I delivered this paper at the 1993 Midwest Modern Language Association Convention.

Geoff H. Johnson

1993 MMLA Conference

July 13, 1993

Melville's New Fallen American Adam

The narrator states fairly early on in Herman Melville's "Bartleby, the Scrivener" that both he and Bartleby are "sons of Adam" (55). The phrase plays on a double entendre, referring to both the Calvinist Biblical Eden and to the view of America as the "new Eden." Many recent critics have traced the biblical aspects of this and other elemen ts of the story, claiming the character of Bartleby as a Christ-figure, and as such carries out the role of a redeemer.1 The story, however, is not Bartleby's, but rather the narrator's. "Bartleby" is simultaneously a biography about a scriven er and an autobiography about an entrepreneur, and Melville uses this narrative to attack the mythology previous autobiographers such as Benjamin Franklin created concerning the archetypal, self-made American man -- the new sons of Adam. For Melville, it was a mythology and persona that no longer applied because it supported a burgeoning class of capitalists, destined in the future to become the "robber barons," who placed a higher value on the utilitarian ethics espoused by Franklin than on humanity. This "Adam" with whom the narrator identifies, becomes at once both the Biblical Adam and R. W. B. Lewis' "American Adam." And through this new-fallen Adam, Melville condemns those character traits most valued by early American autobiographers like Franklin.

"I know of no Character living nor many of them put together, who has so much in his powers as Thyself to promote a greater Spirit of Industry and early Attention to Business, Frugality, and Temperance with American Youth " wrote Abel James in a letter to urge Franklin on with the Autobiography(Franklin 134). This somewhat prophetic letter announces what would eventually become the foundations of Republican value and Republican virtue. And Lewis in his preeminent work The American Adam identifies characteristics of the archetypal literary figure who became the model for the American ethos.

The new habits to be engendered on the new American scene were suggested by the image of a radically new personality, the hero of the new adventure: an individual emancipated from history, happily bereft of ancestry, untouched and undefiled by the usual inheritances of family and race; and individual standing alone, self-reliant and self propelling, ready to confront whatev er awaited him with the aid of his own unique and inherent resources. ...His moral position was prior to experience, and in his very newness he was fundamentally innocent. (Lewis 5)

Relatively early in his life, Franklin rejected his familial bonds and struck out on his own. He writes in part one of his Autobiography:2 "At length a fresh Difference arising between my brother and me, I took upon me to assert my Freedom, presuming that he would not venture to produce new indentures" (70). The remainder of part one details the various adv entures he undertakes, the mistakes he made -- or "errata" as he terms them -- and his ultimate success as a printer in Philadelphia. It is this narrative, and those which followed, which created the uniquely American phenomena Lewis describes as the American Adam. "The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin" is America's primary Epic. ...[I]t is, at least from the point of view of its rhetoric, [American] culture itself" (Dauber 261). With its emphasis upon personal achie vement and individual responsibility, Franklin and those like him forged, in both meanings of the word, a national identity.3

In that sense, Franklin's Autobiography and Melville's "Bartleby" connect in some very important ways. First, they are both fictions. Franklin creates his "persona" throughout the development of his history.

Franklin's achievement, as virtually every critic since has held, was his ability to fictionalize himself so strongly and so memorably. ...It is the fiction of a Franklinian 'persona,' and, in a projection of such a notion of persona temporally along the career of the book, the persona's progress is taken to be from an innocent, more nearly 'real' Franklin, through the maturer character, to the overly wise author who tells the story. (Dauber 281)

The key notion here is that of progressivity, a concept central to Franklin's philosophy. Under the banner of quot;progress" Franklin can rationalize in his fiction the somewhat questionable dealings and covert activities necessary to his establishing himself in business. Without progress, industriousness and d esire have no rational basis. More personally, Franklin also believed strongly in personal improvement, as his project to reach "moral perfection" amply demonstrated. The methodology he adopts to achieve his goal is thoroughly rational and sys tematic. Ultimately, he abandons the project because he reasons that a person of perfect moral character would be the envy of all his friends (156).

As some critics have noted, Melville's narrator may also "develop" in a similar way, becoming a kind of sage, responding to Bartleby's ultimate death as being asleep "with kings and counselors" (73), a kind of wry witticism reminiscent of Poor Richard's Almanac. The reference, however, to Job's ranting at God casts doubt on whether the narrator actually does progress. In decrying his miserable state and the loss of his wealth, Job mistakes the forms of God's love for that love itself. Similarly, at the end of this story readers question whether this narrator does comprehend all that transpired. Only after Bartleby dies, after the impenetrable, unknowable mystery has been driven from productive, rational society does the narrator appear to appreciate its value, if he can comprehend it at all. Bartleby presents the narrator with an ultimate en igma, an impenetrable riddle which cannot be solved and cannot be avoided. And in "Bartleby," from a narrator very concerned with what people think, we never learn the narrator's name. "Ere introducing the scrivener, as he first appeared to me, it is fit I make some mention of myself, my employees, me business, my chambers, and general surroundings," (40) says the narr tor, but neglects to mention his own name. Also, one of the narrator's main concerns throughout the story revolves around successfully operating his business. Without a name, the lawyer has no parentage and no familial ties, and being dependent upon his business insures that he must be self-sufficient, making him a type of Lewis' American Adam.

Like Franklin, however, the narrator values highly prominent social connections which afford him good business prospects. He says of Astor, "I will freely add, that I was not insensible to the late John Jacob Astor's good opinion" (40). Franklin in his Autobiography continually discusses at length the people with who he associates, from boyhood friends to Sir William Keith to the young people of Philadelphia whom come together to form the junto. At one point, when Franklin speaks of the job he and Keimer performed in New Jersey, he writes:

We continu'd there near 3 months, and by that time I could reckon among my acquired friends, Judge Allen, Samuel Bustill, the Secretary of the Province, Isaac Pearson, Joseph Cooper and several of the Smiths, Members of the Assembly, and Isaac Decow the S urveyor General. ... These Friends were afterwards of great Use to me, as I occasionally was to some of them. (113)

The catalogues of prominent people and his making sure to point out how "useful" they proved later in life show a Franklin "not insensible" to others' "good opinion."

And in connecting the narrator to John Jacob Astor, Melville solidifies the connectedness to Franklin. John Denis Haeger in a recent biography of Astor, notes that, at least in the early portrayals of his life,

Astor personified what later became known as the Horatio Alger ideal -- a penniless immigrant fleeing European oppression who seeks and finds his fortune in the New World. ... Moreover, Astor was praised for his social consciousness and nationalistic fervor: he risked his fortune in attempting to establish As toria, built a library for the city, and assisted other immigrants through bequests of the New York City German Society. (15)

Such versions of Astor's life appeared in the 1840s, about ten years before Melville wrote "Bartleby." Astor's life as it's portrayed here nearly duplicates Franklin's experiences in the Autobiography. Both men left artisan fathers to seek new opportunities; both arrived at their respective destinations with their funds nearly depleted, with Franklin arriv ing at Philadelphia having only "a Dutch Dollar and about a shilling in Copper" (75); both men made their fortunes through ingenuity and hard work; and both men were heralded for the public service they rendered for the country.4 In making Asto r the narrator's idol, Melville by extension equates Franklin and the narrator -- they both share a similar ideology.

The narrator and Franklin also share being raised and living in an urban environment. In his youth Franklin's father exposed him to a range of different occupations, but not once does Franklin mention the prospect of becoming a farmer. He dreamed of going to sea only to abandon such ideas when after he had been apprenticed as a printer for several year. "... Franklin was formed by the city, by the conditions of trade and circumstances of daily intercourse with a range of his fellow citizens (Ziff 84). The narrator also exists in the urban environment, more industrialized and larger by Melville's time. To a certain degree, Franklin represents the promise of growing cities and urbanization and the narrator represents the reality urban life had become, with its impersonality and overriding concern with commerce.

It would be remiss in any comparison of Franklin and Melville not to mention chapters 7 and 8 of Israel Potter. Written two years after "Bartleby," Melville places some rather condemnatory dialogue in the mouth of Benjamin Franklin, who becomes a character in the novel. Whenever Franklin speaks, s ome brief truism worthy of those in Poor Richard's Almanac invariably comes out: "An indiscriminate distrust of human nature is the worst consequence of a miserable condition, whether brought about by innocence or guilt " (69); "Gra titude, my friend, cannot be too much towards God, but towards man, it should be limited" (71); "My good friend, never permit yourself to be jocose upon pecuniary matters. Never joke at funerals, or during business transactions" (72); "Bravery in a poor cause, is the height of simplicity" (73). But throughout the course of the two chapters, Melville does make clear a certain ambivalence about Franklin. "This casual private intercourse with Israel, but served to manifest him in his far lesser lights; thrifty, domestic, dietarian, and, it may be, didactically waggish. There was much benevolent irony, innocent mischievousness, in the wise man" (82). By making Franklin appear ridiculous in dialogue but praising him in description, Mel ville venerates the man without condoning the philosophy. Melville admires the Franklin for his intellect and his caring, but cannot endorse the philosophy and methods of advancement made so explicitly clear in the Autobiography.

Perhaps the cornerstone to Franklin's philosophy rests upon the utilitarian notion that everything and everyone should have a function, should be "useful" to their society. That functionality should, in turn, determine in large part a person's value to society, and should extend to everyone, including Franklin himself. "Perhaps the most recurrent word in Frank lin's Autobiography is 'useful.' Franklin deploys it to comment on his habits, or on the outcome of a turn of events, and even to describe his associations with people. This repetition should hardly be surprising in a work intended as a guidebook for posterity" (Schueller 95). The narrator in "Bartleby" echoes this sentiment throughout the text. In describing Turkey and Nippers, two characters with quite idiosyncratic work schedules, the narrator says that "Nippers, like hi s compatriot Turkey, was a very useful man to me" (43). Because they were both functional, albeit at different parts of the day, they were both acceptable. When Bartleby does not accede to being "useful," he moves outside the narrator's philosophical realm. For example, when Bartleby refuses to help read copy, the narrator says, "These are your own copies we are about to examine. It is labor saving to you because one examination will answer for your four papers. It is common usage" (48). The narrator fails to comprehend that which is not useful.

Also important here is the preoccupation both this narrator and Franklin share with eliminating errors, or "errata." In demanding that Bartleby assist in proofreading texts and then becoming extremely agitated when he receives the standard reply of "I prefer not to," the narrator shows a part icular attention to propriety and exactness which he seeks in his life. As the story progresses, the narrator becomes more and more agitated with the "inappropriateness" of Bartleby's behavior. Similarly, Franklin with his overriding concern with rectifying the "errata" of his life also demonstrates a preoccupation with getting the text of his life right. That Franklin saw his life as a text is amply demonstrated by the epitaph he prepared for himself in which he states that following his death he will appear "In a new & more perfect Edition" (44).

A few lines later in Melville's story, after Bartleby again refuses to read copy, the narrator reiterates his point, again mentioning "common usage": "You are decided, then, comply with my request -- a request made according to common usage and common sense" (49). The narrator links rationality and pragmatism together in a way very similar to Franklin in the Autobiography. "So convenient a thing it is to be a reasonable Creature, since it enables one to find or make a Reason for every thing one has a mind to do" (88). Franklin in this self-effacing, humorous rationalization for going off his vegetarian diet, nevertheless, equates pragmatism, rationality and expedience and makes them part of his persona. Because the narrator in "Bartleby" cannot step outside this utilitarian mindset, he can never ultimately accept Bart leby's standard reply, "I prefer not to." Note that "prefer" is a verb of volition and desire rather than logic. For Franklin and the narrator, all desires are rational and logical. Bartleby even acknowledges the rationality of the narrator's argument and still declines to read copy: "He briefly gave me to understand that on that point my judgment was sound. Yes: his decision was irreversible" (49). The narrator can never understand this desire because it does not seem rational.

In his project to attain Moral Perfection, Franklin outlines the thirteen virtues toward which he would mold his character: Temperance, Silence, Order, Resolution, Frugality, Industry, Sincerity, Justice, Moderation, Cleanliness, Tranquility, Chastity , and Humility. "What Franklin is propounding is a set of moral-utilitarian ethics, eminently suitable for a cohesive society devoted to the pursuit of material betterment" (Schueller 96). In a capitalist society which values self-sufficiency , these qualities prove necessary for everyone to negotiate daily existence. Melville exemplifies a number of these characteristics in order to subvert them. The chiefest among these, and the one Franklin most values, is Temperance "as it tends to produce ... Coolness and Clearness of Head" (150), qualities so necessary to rationality. Perhaps the lawyer's single, greatest "flaw" is being too temperate with those around him. John Jacob Astor, the lawyer's hero, certainly would not have endured characters like Turkey and Nippers, let alone tolerated Bartleby's refusal to perform the various required tasks.

Melville also combines the qualities of Order, Tranquility, and Moderation in the narrator in a way completely antithetical to someone like Franklin. Instead of being an ambitious, energetic risk-taker, the narrater enjoys a sedentary lifestyle:

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 mortgag es and title-deeds. All who know me, consider me an eminently safe man. (40)

In this description Melville simultaneously holds the narrator up to the reader's censure and chides those same values presented in Franklin's Autobiography. This passage demonstrates how those qualities so important to virtue in Franklin's vision could be perverted and exaggerated in Melville's. It is as if Melville created a character in Franklin's image, but without a soul. The narrator lacks the qualities so essential to the version of Franklin Melville creates in Israel Potter.

Resolution, Frugality, and Industry all reflect values coming out of the Puritan experience. Franklin incorporates the Calvinist ideas that God rewarded hard work with material gain in this life and Heaven in the next for those listed in the Book of Life. Eventually these ideas became the basis for the Puritan Elect who because of their wealth were guaranteed salvation after death. "Some Puritans, too, had conjoined wealth and virtue by seeing riches as rewards given to the regenerate. Sinne rs, they argued, could not be so favored (Schueller 96). Melville questions the morality of "usefulness," and the linkage between pragmatism and virtue. In Franklin's world, Christian virtue had a rational basis. Certain actions were good or bad or good not because they were forbidden or encouraged, but because these actions were forbidden or encouraged because they were bad or good in their "own Natures" (115). The character of Bartleby forces readers to question whether anyone ca n comprehend the "Nature" of any person or action and whether people ought to assume that God was rational. Virtue, for Melville, was virtue's reward, not some means to barter with God for salvation. As for the narrator in "Bartleby," on several occasions he resolves to confront Bartleby and either force him to work and follow direction or quit the offices. Ironically, the lawyer must quit the offices because he could not do what the landlord must ultimately do, have the constables evict Bartleby. And as mentioned earlier, the versions of Industry inherent in the characters of Turkey and Nippers are at best comical.

Humility also takes on a strange countenance. The narrator oftentimes revels in how stoicly he withstands Bartleby's insubordination. Forgiving Bartleby becomes a kind of moral badge for the narrator to wear, connecting them both to the common bond of humanity. "To befriend Bartleby; to humor him in his strange wilfulness, will cost me little or nothing, while I lay up in my soul what will eventually prove a sweet morsel for my conscience" (50). In trying to commune with Bartleby the narrator somehow ennobles himself, but the fact that he must purch ase his humanity corrupts any sense of genuine caring.

Perhaps the most important of Franklin's values, in terms of Melville's story, is Justice. The story seems to wonder whether there are values which transcend the utilitarian American ethos represented by Franklin and encapsulated by Lewis' American Adam, and what happens when those values come in conflict. For Franklin there would be no conflict. "It [the Autobiography] refers, most importantly, to a pragmatic cultural framework wherein all experiences are evaluated according to their capacity for general social-material well-being" (Schuelle r 96). Franklin defines Justice by saying, "Wrong none, by doing Injuries or omitting the benefits that are your duty" (150). The benefits Franklin speaks of belong to the society, not the individual. Within Franklin's ethos, the individual and society, the private a nd the public, would never come in conflict. Melville subverts these values and sets them against one another, placing Temperance, Order, Resolution, Frugality, Industry, and Tranquility in direct conflict with a Justice which transcends culture to encom pass all of humanity. The result is the stagnation Gillian Brown cites as the ultimate focus of the story. Because Bartleby refuses to work, and because the narrator cannot escape the American ethos defined by Franklin but still strives for a sense of Justice, others must resolve the story, consigning Bartleby to the Tombs and a languid death.

This story forces its readers to ask themselves if the narrator's early naivete and later remorse justifies his lack of self-understanding and moral fortitude. It is questionable whether this narrator ever comprehends the role he played in Bartleby' s death, or whether he recognizes the implications of the way his society dealt with Bartleby. I think his final lamentation "Ah, Bartleby! Ah, humanity!" (74) ironic in that it signifies both the loss of humanity in his society, but more importantly, with when Bartleby dies, so does his humanity.

Works Cited

Brown, Gillian. Domestic Individualism: Imagining the Self in Nineteenth-Century America. Los Angeles, CA: University of California Press, 1990.

Forst, Graham Nicol. "Up Wall Street Towards Broadway: the Narrator's Pilgrimage in Melville's 'Bartleby, the Scrivener." Studies in Short Fiction. 24: 263-270.

Franklin, Benjamin. The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin. Leonard W. Labaree ed. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1964.

Haeger, John Denis. John Jacob Astor: Business and Finance in the Early Republic. Detroit, MI: Wayne State University Press, 1991.

Lewis, R.W.B. The American Adam. Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press, 1955.

Melville, Herman. "Bartleby, the Scrivener." Great Short Works of Herman Melville. New York: Harper & Row, 1969.

________________. Israel Potter. New York: Fordham University Press, 1991.

Mitchell, Thomas R. "Dead Letters and Dead Men: Narrative Purpose in 'Bartleby, the Scrivener.'" Studies in Short Fiction. 27: 329-38.

Schueller, Malani. "Authorial Discourse and Pseudo-Dialogue in Franklin's Autobiography." Early American Literature. 22:94-107

Ziff, Larzer. Writing in the New Nation. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1991.

Notes