bartleby and the problem of 'doing good'

Most popular novels, especially those of pre-Modernism, function karmaically; if a certain character is particularly nasty, they will most likely either be cast as the vilan, or meet a spiraling, doom-ridden ending. However, in Bartleby, our main protagonist is plagued from the start with malfortune, in the form of the omniprescent, chillingly apathetic Bartleby. The narrator and protagonist is only fleetingly described as being a "rather elderly man" and one who "has been filled with a profound conviction that the easiest way of life is the best." With this introduction to the story, we are set up, as readers, to expect the traditional lazy man's tale; character is shown the misgivings of his lazy lifestyle, changes, grows, etc. However, Melville takes us on a sharply different route; instead of writing a story about the depths and trials of the narrator's life, he has the narrator reflect outwards, onto the character of Bartleby. Here is presented the main conflict of the story; the difference between doing good and being good. Our narrator, at least at the beginning, is convinced that Bartleby is a soul worth saving, and that by allowing Bartleby to continue to work, our narrator will, as he says " prove a sweet morsel for [his] conscience." Returning to the karmaic principles I mentioned before, the reader might expect that either Bartleby will concede and either leave or quit his odd defiance, or the narrator will crack, flying into a rampage or reverting into himself. However, the two of them continue on in an odd sort of dance, neither of them backing down from their stances, and thus neither of them earning higher moral standing. This is where the idea of "being good" comes into play; throughout the novel, the narrator is portrayed as he who is doing good, as he is allowing Bartleby to remain in his office and, quite frankly, being too polite about it. However, is he, innately, good because of this? Or is it Bartleby, who remains static and completely within himself? This is an interesting narrative tactic; because Bartleby says almost nothing, the reader must base all assumptions on what is told or described of him. With our narrator, what we know of him is based primarily on his own thoughts about himself, and whether or not he is making the right choice. Therefore, Melville has set up two opposites; one who overshares, and one who doesn't relate to the external world at all. It is almost impossible for the narrator to "do good" for Bartleby, when Bartleby is so closed off to all others that neither we, nor the narrator, can access his value code to know how to do good for him. This is why the story does not follow the traditional, cause and effect tradition of others; the two main characters are locked in a stalemate, making it impossible for the story to unravel.

I am still planning on writing my essay about the nature of disability, but I have narrowed the focus so I am solely discussing Hope Leslie and Rappaccini's Daughter, and further, Magawisca and Beatrice. The primary theme I will be examining is "otherness;" how the notions of family, tribe and nation affect how these characters' notions of self and how they project these onto their personal relationships. Both characters have strong, omniprescent relationships with their fathers, and I will examine and compare how and if these are directly related to their supposed "disabilities," and how their relationships with their fathers are very causally and symbolically related to their physical shortcomings. Certainly in Rappacini's Daughter, Beatrice's father has not only created her disability, but is her disability. I found the essay "Allegory and Incest in Rappacini's Daughter" by Oliver Evans very illuminating. I will also examine both characters' notions of "womanhood," and how they are affected or stunted by their disabilities. I have found Judith Fetterly's "My Sister! My Sister! The Rhetoric of ... Hope Leslie" helpful, in that she analyzes very effectively Sedgewick's careful construction of the text, and how womanhood is portrayed therein. I will (perhaps finally) discuss the notion of "freedom" and how, though each respective character is held back by some other factor other than their disability (the garden, her race, etc), their self becomes the true barrier between them and the outside world.

Augustine St.Clare seems to be a relic from the late Victorian era; he is hedonistic to the point of recklessness, eschewing church and the mundane profession of religion for the joy of drink and play. This is, of course, to be expected of someone who takes such great pleasure from material, sensual things. The intricacies of his character come about in his dealings with slaves; or, as he prefers to call them, servants. In his long conversation (or perhaps more fittingly, tirade) with Miss Ophelia, St. Clare asks Ophelia if she "ever [kept] doing wrong after [she'd] repented" (329). This neatly encapsulates a large portion of St. Clare's views on both slavery, religion and, in a manner, living; he recognizes the human need for comfort, even though the acquisition of that comfort may be detrimental to others. Though Marie detests it when he doesn't go to church, he feels better staying at home and enjoying his worldly pleasures, though it makes her upset. Similarly, he keeps "servants" not because he believes what he is doing is right, but because they remind him of the comforts of home and family. St. Clare does not use his slaves in the same way that others in this novel do; his slaves keep a messy kitchen, drive the carriage drunk, and do somersaults for unimpressed guests. However, this is beside the point for him. He is often depicted as looking on at their shenanigans and shortcomings with a sly grin, as if he is a biographer taking notes, or an eager child waiting to sit at the grownups table. His lack of structured religion, his downright disavowal of it, has sharpened his intuitive notion of pleasure. One might say that his voyeuristic tendencies with his slaves seems circusmaster-like, but I believe that he takes joy from them, especially when they are joyful. Of course, it is misguided, as he is unable to separate the joy one should take from a favourite scotch, and the joy one should take from another human being.