Yet still there are critics who maintain the lawyer has no set of ethics at all--that everything he does is out of self-interest and is immoral.

One of the critics who feels this way is Thomas Pribek. Pribek calls the lawyer a political appointee of a corrupt political system (191). He says that the lawyer's "commitment to normative social values [is] as corrupt as any deliberate legal or legislative chicanery" (193). And even that "The lawyer's failings as a human being are in part a matter of ... [his] inability to see that Wall Street merely uses people, like Bartleby and himself, as kinds of industrial machines" (Pribek 193, Pribek's emphasis).

This is an interesting criticism of economic values, but I do not think it applies to our particular narrator. Craver and Plante point out how tolerant the lawyer is when it comes to Turkey and Nipper's eccentricities and overlooks them with kindness (133). And Schechter concurs how tolerant he is of people "who may well be the most eccentric and trying group of office workers an employer ever had to contend with" (360). Craver and Plante put it best when they state:

This is no unfeeling Wall Street Tycoon--no 19th Century version of Ivan Boesky or Michael Milken. Craver and Plante explain, "It would be to distort the character of the narrator in 'Bartleby' were one to place him in the company of ... [those] whose lives are based on a cruelty and a hypocrisy seemingly accepted or, at least, unquestioned by an entire society. ... Though one is not being introduced to a Christ-like figure, neither is one meeting a small time Mephistopheles" (133). That's what Pribek thinks (i.e. that the narrator is evil incarnate); but he's wrong, because even assuming that this is what the lawyer is at the beginning of the story, he clearly is not so at the end--he has changed. He's been effected by Bartleby and sees how all humanity is interconnected.

One of the things Pribek is hung up on is the word "safe" which occurs in the second paragraph of the story (Melville 1301). He says that when the narrator calls himself a "safe" man, he's not complimenting himself (Pribek 191). He explains that "in political slang, a 'safe' man is one who ... can be relied on not to disturb the vested interests" (Pribek 192). Also that to "play it safe" means to take the "easiest course of action" (Pribek 194). Nothing to be morally praised, certainly, but he's no instigator of corruption. Also, one must remember this is describing the lawyer before he meets Bartleby. Melville creates him thus to give him latitude to change.

Pribek has some hang-ups about lawyers and assumes all are corrupt and inhuman. Certainly such an attitude is understandable in today's society where we see ambitious and self-congratulatory lawyers on the six o'clock news every night, defending or prosecuting OJ Simpson or some other wealthy and famous defendant, or lawyers running for political office at the expense of the citizens and manipulating the system. But to assume that this lawyer, in Melville's story, is the 19th Century equivalent of F. Lee Bailey or Newt Gingrich is not fair.

I believe Pribek is prejudicial against the narrator, simply by virtue of his profession, and therefor is oblivious to the narrator's great moral strides which he makes over the course of this story. Pribek uses carefully honed rhetorical skills to make one of the most moral characters in literature appear as one of the most morally corrupt. For example, in his criticism, Pribek notes that "he is not a criminal lawyer, yet his professional status and familiarity with the operations of the Tombs indicate his competence with the terms and characters of the criminal world" (194). Of course, this is not so. The narrator is not acquainted with these operations--he has to ask the turnkey about whether the grub-man is indeed legitimate (Melville 1324). Pribek also tries to discredit the lawyer by pointing out that in the past he has defended forgers (194). That is a ridiculous charge. Everybody who knows anything about the American justice system knows that every defendant is entitled to legal defense and to transfer the crime of the accused onto his lawyer is a cheap tactic that proves nothing. That the lawyer has had past associations with criminals should come as no surprise, shock, or revelation--that's what lawyers do: it is the equivalent or arguing a policeman is bad because he was involved in a chasewith a robber. All this rhetoric merely demonstrates Pribek's desperate yearning to prove his improvable point.

Still, the narrator is at a difficult crossroads, as he's confronted by the moral dilemma of Bartleby. Craver and Plante ask how can the lawyer "best discharge his obligations to himself without neglecting those he owed to Bartleby[?]" (134). His best interest and Bartleby's best interest come into conflict. And yet there are times when he puts Bartleby ahead of himself. He allows him to remain in his office when he does no work, with the hope that maybe in the future Bartleby will turn around and start doing something worthwhile again. But Bartleby continues to refuse to do anything and as Craver and Plante ask "how could the narrator be expected to sustain any hope before a man who frankly admits, 'At present I would prefer not to be a little reasonable'?" (135).

This shifts the emphasis of the moral question from the lawyer to Bartleby, a man called by Schechter "unquestionably one of the most infuriating characters in the realm of fiction" (361). It isn't just his rejection of authority, it's his rejection of everything . He rejects life. He is a man with many faults. Craver and Plante point out how rude Bartleby is when he goes so far as to order the narrator out of his own premises one Sunday morning (134). And they also say Bartleby is "both ungrateful and disdainful" (135). They point out his last words to the narrator in the Tombs ("I know you, and want nothing to say to you" [Melville 1324]), as he forgets all the overtures the narrator has made and go on to conclude that "Bartleby, the absolutist, in pursuing his ideal quarry, can no more consider the cost to others than he can the cost to himself" (135). In other words, Bartleby is a man who cares not who he hurts and harms. (In an interesting parallel, Craver and Plante also point out how Bartleby is like Ahab in Moby-Dick , so obsessed with himself that he ignores how it will effect the lives of the others aboard the Pequod [135]). While the narrator goes out of his way to avoid bringing harm to Bartleby, Bartleby, simply by refusing to do anything, is bringing harm to the narrator--he's damaging his reputation as well as draining his resources.

Despite all the harm Bartleby does, it's amazing how many critics stick up for him. Craver and Plante have a strange conclusion to their article, stating that "Every civilized reader admires and even envies the anarchic, unconditional spirit of Bartleby" (136). I, for one, cannot (if I may get personal for a second and give a reader-response). Althoughanarchy may sometimes stir the depths of my soul, his relentless, unmalleable, "unconditional" resolve scares me, as I put strong value on the ability to grow and change. Plus the fact that Bartleby's spirit is extremely disconnected with the world, with his fellow humans, seems to be the opposite of the point of this story (i.e. reaching out to your fellow man). I cannot imagine Melville holding Bartleby up as a hero, as someone he'd want his readers to emulate.

Still, despite all the bad that is in Bartleby, the question of the narrator's self-interest has yet to be resolved. Schechter notes that "there is a distinct element of self-interest in all of the narrator's charitable acts" (360). Critic William Bysshe Stein says this self- interest makes the narrator corrupt and morally sterile, but Schechter counters that taking "himself into consideration does not make him a monster; on the contrary, it simply makes him a human being" (360). Schechter goes on to argue that "the narrator is a far better and more honest man than most" (361). And H. Bruce Franklin calls him "certainly the most charitable character in the story" (Schechter 361).

We need to compare the lawyer to other characters in story-- that's what Melville gives us. Melville does not give us 20th Century standards to judge him by. What the Reaganite Yuppies would say about how much we need to care for our fellow humans is irrelevant. The elements for judgement are in the text. We must compare the narrator's actions to those of the next person who leases the office and finally calls the cops. That's what just about any normal 19th Century person would do. Craver and Plante point out that "when others are faced with the problem of how to handle [Bartleby], they display considerably less patience, endurance, and compassion" (134). The point is is that our narrator is above calling the cops. He has the sense that he's responsible for Bartleby. He doesn't just hand his problem over to the authorities whom he knows would handle it much more harshly.

The problem arises when religion enters into the story and followers of Christ are "commanded" to transcend the earthly and to offer the other cheek to be hit (Schechter 363). But Schechter says these religious commandments "are impossible for the vast majority of human beings to obey" (363). He goes on to say, "Short of being a saint--short, indeed, of making a 'complete, unconditional sacrifice of himself in behalf of' Bartleby--[the narrator] does everything he can reasonably be expected to do" (363). What more can he do? Yet still he fails; still he's condemned, because "he simply cannot summon forth the kind of utterly selfless love which Christ's teachings demand" (Schechter 364). So in that sense, the story is viewed as a criticism or failure of Christian ethics. This may be partly because Supercritics Cleanth Brooks and Robert Penn Warren refer to the theme of this story as "the unfeasibility of the Christian ethic as radically interpreted" (Schechter 359). Brooks and Warren carry a lot of weight and power that few dare to question. Everyone just blindly accepts the fact that because Bartleby dies, the lawyer is a failure.

But the question none of these critics address, directly, is what more specifically could the lawyer have done? Beyond inviting Bartleby to his own home, what more does the Christian demand of a person in that situation? That he physically pick Bartleby up, prop him over his shoulder, and take him home, against his will? No one argues that that is what Christian ethics call for. No critic directly asks that question. Only Henry A. Murray directly defends the lawyers actions by stating that "for a hundred years, no critic, so far as I know, has come out with a definite statement as to what [the narrator] should have done" (Mitchell 330). He complains that it is "an insoluble problem" (Mitchell 330). You can't help a man who refuses to be helped.

This brings us to the idea that Bartleby is a test by God to see how the lawyer reacts (Schechter 364). (Remember, Melville quotes the book of Job at the end of the story ["With kings and counsellors" (Melville 1325)]--another story of a man being tested by God.) But if Bartleby is a test, he is a test of "nothing less than an ability to go on turning the other cheek forever" (Schechter 365). Forever? When does one stop being tested? Some may argue that one is never stopped being tested--that every day we are being tested. The question then becomes at what point does one give up the futile struggle? Our narrator holds on longer than anyone else in this story. As Schechter says, "Ultimately, however, simple self-preservation compels him to stop butting his head against the dead wall of Bartleby's unresponding personality and flee" (365). Schechter says that by doing this, "he alienates himself from the most fundamental tenets of his religion" and claims that, as H. Bruce Franklin says, "by the end of the story ... the narrator has been 'weighed and found wanting'" (365). But how can that be? If anything is wanting, and if his actions really contradict the Christian ethic, than it is the Christian ethic that is wanting for being impractical.

And I would hold that the narrator, by his overtures, by his invitation into his own home, by even attempting to buy Bartleby better food in the prison, the narrator has achieved the Christian ideal. He looks out for his fellow man. He knows he is bound up with everyone. That all are sons of Adam. What more could he have done? Because, as Mitchell points out,

Melville, Herman. "Bartleby, the Scrivener: A Story of Wall

Mitchell, Thomas R. "Dead Letters and Dead Men: Narrative Purpose

Pribek, Thomas. "The 'Safe' Man of Wall Street: Characterizing

Schechter, Harold. "Bartleby the Chronometer" Studies in Short

back