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
05set of men, of whom, as yet, nothing, that
I know of, has ever been written—I mean, the
law-copyists, or scriveners.1 I have known very
many of them, professionally and privately,
and, if I pleased, could relate diverse histories,
10at 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, the strangest I ever saw, or heard of.
15While, 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
20one 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,
25which 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
30some such description is indispensable to an
adequate understanding of the chief character
about to be presented. Imprimis:2 I am a man
who, from his youth upwards, has been filled
with a profound conviction that the easiest
35way 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
40who never addresses a jury, or in any way draws
down public applause; but, in the cool tranquillity
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
45eminently safe man. The late John Jacob Astor,3
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
50fact, 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
55to 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
60in Chancery,4 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
65must 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; inas-
much as I had counted upon a life-lease of the
70profits, 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 skylight shaft, 75penetrating 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 80contrast, 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 spyglass to bring out its lurking beauties, but, for the benefit of 85all near-sighted spectators, was pushed up to within ten feet of my window panes. Owing 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 90 little resembled a huge square cistern.
