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“But the principal relic of faded grandeur was the ample oval of the shield-like stern-piece, intricately carved with the arms of Castile and Leon, medallion about by groups of mythological or symbolical devices; uppermost and central of which was a dark satyr in a mask, holding his foot on the prostrate neck of a writhing figure, likewise masked” (1513-14). 

I think the most important aspect that is alluded to in this excerpt are the masks. Disguises in “Benito Cereno” keep Captain Delano in a constant state of shifting perceptions, which drives the plot forwards. Additionally, the disguises complicates the various ideas or arguments being made on race in the story.  

An initial interpretation of the masked satyr is Babo, who is presented as a loyal servant to Captain Cereno. Babo is always at his side and many times is the subject of gratitude and thanks by Cereno. Throughout Delano’s time on board San Dominick, the character that Babo plays distracts from his true power over the entire ship. It is clear in the declarations and testimonies at the end that he was the mastermind of the rebellion, which can be reflected by the satyr’s foot on the neck of the other figure (possibly Benito Cereno who is also “masked” and is acting within the system of slavery) on the stern-piece. However, it has to be addressed then what the satyr means. Satyrs are mythological creatures that look like humans but have horse/goat features (legs/lower-half, ears, horns, etc), which then present Babo’s true self as animalistic or unreal or “other”, presenting a racist ideology. The rebellion’s significance then is simplified to a socially Darwinistic line of thought. Instead of stemming from moral or ethical issues, the rebellion is the result of distinct racial differences.

Continuing this initial interpretation, Benito Cereno could be the victim in this scene. Benito Cereno disguises himself as a sickly, passive, and distant captain, when in fact, this disposition is due to the threat on his life. The mask (his weakness) acts in driving away suspicion as to the true power dynamic, where in reality he is not captain but hostage. Also, the victim of the satyr’s aggression can be generalized to the practice of slavery (Benito Cereno was facilitating the transport of the slaves aboard, contributing to the global system of slavery). 

Yet, this interpretation can be analyzed in many different ways. I think another possibility would to think of it the other way around and in the framework of each parties’ outcome. Who benefited even after all the destruction? Who is depicted in what light? It seems that the argument could be made that the Europeans/Americans are the satyr. Or it could be interesting to think Captain Delano individually, and what his role could be in the scene? Could the system of slavery be the satyr? There is any number of interpretations, and often they cannot be strictly confined to the excerpt above, but it does provoke a number of questions on what is trying to be said of race in this story.

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“Benito Cereno” explores complex themes such as slavery, deception, and the moral ambiguity of human nature. Set against the backdrop of a slave revolt on a Spanish ship, the story unfolds through the eyes of Amasa Delano, an American captain who encounters the distressed vessel, the San Dominick. While reading, I was intrigued by the gradual revelation of the true nature of Captain Benito Cereno’s relationship with Babo, his African slave. It is important to note that Melville wrote the story in 1855, 6 years before the inception of the Civil War, and was therefore inspired by the question of race present at the time. 

The story also delves into the complexities of power dynamics and the morality of slavery. Delano’s initial condescension towards Cereno reflects the racial and cultural biases of the time. Throughout his 12-hour visit on the ship, he establishes a pattern of failing to interpret how the other’s behaviors and power could be problematic. Considering his own professional shipboard abilities, Delano lacks respect for the black men’s commanding presence and also jumps to conclusions about Cereno’s ability to captain a ship effectively. As the story progresses, it becomes clear that the roles of “master” and “slave” are not as straightforward as they seem. Babo’s cunning manipulation challenges the conventional power structures, forcing readers to confront the ethical implications of slavery and the dehumanization it entails.

Finally–also as seen in “Bartleby, the Scrivener”–Melville ends the story ambiguously, leaving room for interpretation and prompting readers to question their own biases and assumptions. The open-ended resolution, invites contemplation on the consequences of the events and the broader societal implications.

-Siena Rose

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In Benito Cereno, Captain Delano is immediately unsettled by the social hierarchies that seem to have dissolved on board Don Benito’s ship. He notices that “evidently reduced from scarcity of water and provisions; while long continued suffering seemed to have brought out the less goodnatured qualities of the Negroes, besides, at the same time, impairing the Spaniard’s authority over them.” This physical and structural deterioration of Benito is mirrored by the physical decay of the ship itself which Captain Delano surveys at length. He further philosophizes that “In armies, navies, cities, or families- in nature herself- nothing more relaxes good order than misery.” I think a ship is particularly apt scene to analyze the social hierarchies that emerge and dissolve when everybody is facing the same uncontrollable “misery” caused by outside forces. 

While surveying the physical deterioration of the ship itself, it seems ironic that one of Captain Delano’s initial observations is a pedestal with the words “Seguid vuestro jefe” (follow your leader) “rudely painted” along the side. On a ship that has clearly lost the formal constraints of a hierarchy between the “leader” and his people, it seems ironic that the supposed “followers” would advertise the very norms they dissolved. Although, it seems that despite the lack of formal constraints, Benito still find himself in the company of the loyal servant Babo. 

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I found myself increasingly interested in Bartleby’s character, and trying to figure him out, but I never really did. I think it is interesting how so much of this story is spent reflecting on the narrator, in this limited point of view. The reader ends up with so much perspective on him, but not much on any of Bartleby’s internal dialogue. Certainly the wall, Bartleby’s preferred location to work, is his way of separating himself from the other employees, and symbolizes his isolation and alienation from society. But I found myself wondering what exactly the wall symbolizes here- why a wall? Why not a cubicle or a window? It certain seems like the most pertinent symbol for a dead stop or dead end, and the blankness of it must be symbolic as well. The one phrase we do hear from Bartleby repeatedly is, “I would prefer not to”. This is an interesting example of a kind of passive resistance, which is definitely him defying what is expected of him (both socially and professionally) and precedes his acts of resistance to this oppressive system, but also seems to reflect an aire of defeat and even an odd politeness. The comparison of the narrator to Bartleby was a striking duality, and it was surprising and fascinating to me how much the narrator did try to circle back towards a place of empathizing or understanding the way that systems had been oppressive and caused Bartleby to struggle, even despite his frustration. The contrasting personalities of Turkey and Nippers was also an interesting layer. It definitely emphasized to me the message that human behavior can be unpredictable, and the effects of a strenuous work environment like this one on individuals can certainly vary.

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I noticed similarities between the narrator in Melville’s  “Bartleby, the Scrivener” and the narrator in “William Wilson. A Tale”. To begin with, I was struck with the decision of the narrator in “Bartleby, the Scrivener” to never disclose his name. In the first paragraphs, the narrator gives a description of himself but instead of a formal introduction vaguely begins with, “I am a rather elderly man” (Melville, 1469). It seems intentional that the narrator leaves his name out of the story as he feels shame for the eventual death of Bartleby. Similarly, in “William Wilson. A Tale” the narrator explicitly conceals his true identity for fear that the page be “sullied with [his] name” (Poe, 642). In both instances, it appears that to convey the shame the narrators feel, (or shame they want their audience to think they feel) their names are purposefully kept from the account.  

Furthermore, in “Bartleby, the Scrivener” , the narrator is constantly contradicting himself. At the forefront of the story, in discussing the forced abrogation of his office, the narrator establishes, “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” (Melville, 1470). Throughout the entirety of the account, the narrator is constantly disproving this claim. For instance, he becomes almost immediately outraged when Bartleby refuses to examine a paper with him. Similarly, while William Wilson attempts to convey accountability for his “unspeakable misery, and unpardonable crime” he tries to find excuses for his behavior (Poe, 642). He cites his parents’ failed job at raising him as the cause for his personality deficits. Both narrators struggle with taking full accountability for their actions. In contradicting themselves, they display that their accounts are somewhat unreliable. 

Lastly, I was intrigued with how similar the titles of the two short stories are. Both titles convey that the narrative will be an account of someone else and not the narrator. However, in actuality, in speaking respectively about Bartleby and William Willson, the reader learns more about the inner conscience of the narrator. The title seems to show the lack of awareness that the narrators have. They choose to title the story after the person they claim to be discussing when in reality they give an account of their own experiences.

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No, I do not understand Bartleby, nor am I trying to. Although, I am not left without that same sense of curiosity about the scrivener’s past. The closest I can come to bring about the shape of the scrivener’s motive is that he has none. I see certain traits of Diogenes’ cynicism in the story, not only through the way of Bartleby but also the internal struggles of the narrator as he contemplates on the most ethical or moral course of action. I think it’s one of the story’s main theme: No matter how morally solid you think you are, at some point there is going to be some outlier that will test your limits and push you to a point of hypocrisy, the same way the narrator gave up on the idea of staying and taking care of Bartleby.

Diogenes’ philosophy, which includes rejection of societal conventions, indifference to the pursuit of material wealth, only caring for the bare necessities for existence, and a sort of distrust in humanity–or more specifically, society, to practice “correct” ethics. However, the idea behind Diogenes’ philosophy is to attain some sort of enlightenment by living a virtuous life, and this is where I see it parting with Bartleby. I don’t think Bartleby has an idea of salvation in mind, and to me he seems more unintentionally self-destructive, as if he is held back by something.

The best I can describe Bartleby is that he is like a ghost of someone who had died, and that someone perhaps had a significant other that they left behind, and so he chooses to stay still in the same place that he left his lover, watching helplessly yet is unwilling or unable to leave, letting everything around him evolve and change as time passes, while he is stuck in the moment.

The Name

Regarding the name ‘Bartleby’ – I looked into the origins of the name and found almost nothing – nothing but this: it is perhaps a variant of the name Bartholomew of Aramaic origin: “bar” means “son of’ and the rest means “the furrows” or “Talmai”. I’m not well-versed in biblical stories or figures so if anyone can derive some meaning from this detail, please share… if you’d prefer to, that is.

Loading Likes... While reading this story, I was struck by the recurring references to food. Upon initial introduction, the nicknames Turkey and Ginger Nut stood out as obvious references, and even Nippers is characterized with his indigestion. While Ginger Nut roots in his consistent task of collecting cakes for the office, I found that Turkey’s nickname was curious as it seemed to evoke his overall grubbiness and haughty personality.
The narrator regards Turkey with disdain at moments, saying, “I had much ado to keep him from being a reproach to me. His clothes were apt to look oily and smell of eating houses” (Melville 1473). While Turkey remains set in his ways, the narrator takes issue with his habits, bothered by “his moistening a ginger-cake between his lips, and clapping it on to a mortgage for a seal. I came within an ace of dismissing him then” (1474). Such potent food imagery connotes a type of greediness and obnoxiousness that forms the image of the narrator’s workers prior to Bartleby. Amid the chaos of the food habits and changing moods of his workers, the narrator finds a moment of reprieve in Bartleby as a less forward and enigmatic addition to his day.
In fact, instead of physical food, the narrator remarks that instead, Bartleby acted “as if long famishing for something to copy, he seemed to gorge himself on my documents. There was no pause for digestion” (1475). Such food-focused language reinforces a pleasant shift from the grossness of actual consumption to Bartleby’s dedication to his work compared to the others. However, as the narrator continues to interact with Bartleby and discover more about his more than reluctant nature, the food references wane. While the narrator remarks that he had never seen Bartleby actually eat, Bartleby becomes more and more distinct and inhuman compared to the rest of the workers.
Ultimately, the lack of hunger or drive represented by Bartleby’s reluctance to get dinner, as distinguished by the grub-man in prison, presents Bartleby’s stationary and immoble character. Never as greedy or intense as the other workers, perhaps the comparison to food presents how Bartleby lacked the capacity to work on Wall-Street while he instead just wanted to survive and get by. His desire to remain stationary by the end distinguishes him from the cut-throat nature of the other copiers, who were quick to call him bizarre and encourage the narrator to cut him as dead weight.
Even the narrator acknowledges that Bartleby “lives without dining” (1494), reaffirming the notion that Bartleby lacked the tendency to indulge himself more than just exist as a passive and enigmatic presence in the narrator’s office.

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In The Scarlet Letter,  Roger Chillingworth declares on page 467, “there are few things– whether in the outward world, or, to a certain depth, in the invisible sphere of thought,– few things hidden from the man, who devotes himself earnestly and unreservedly to the solution of a mystery.” This idea, that with enough time and effort we can know anything is something that many readers and narrators identify with. The narrator of “The Man of the Crowd” shares this mentality, beginning his narrative by establishing himself as an expert at reading the people in the street. Likewise, the narrator of “Bartleby, the Scrivener” starts by demonstrating his skill of understanding his employees, carefully characterizing Turkey, Nippers, and  Ginger Nut. All three stories begin with  someone asserting that mysteries are solvable and people are readable. 

From there, two different routes are taken. In The Scarlet Letter, Chillingworth  is right. Over time, the puzzle yields to his schemes and the mystery is uncovered. But in the case of the two narrators, the man and Bartleby prove to be inscrutable, complete enigmas no matter how long the narrator studies them. In the latter case, the reader and the narrator are left with nothing but guesses as to the true motivations and character of the men that confound them.

All three of these texts present the reader with questions, and draw them in by building anticipation of the answer.  In Poe and Melville’s works, the secrets are never revealed, and the reader is left questioning. In Hawthorne’s work, the main mystery is solved by the end, but many questions remain. These stories take advantage of the reader’s curiosity, partnered with a similarly curious narrator, to draw the reader in and keep them engaged. They show that it can occasionally be said of  a mystery that er lasst sich nicht lesen. They force readers to grapple with questions that will never be answered. However many times we read and reread these stories, we will never know what haunted the man or Bartleby, why Hester returned to Salem, or what happened to Pearl. All we have are guesses.

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The progression of Melville’s Bartleby, the Scrivener depends on the nameless narrator’s willingness to keep the titular Bartleby employed despite his escalating incidents of “passive resistance” (1478). The narrator frequently cites his own compassion as the reason he allows Bartleby to continue to work for him, such as when he worries that a different employer might lead to Bartleby being “rudely treated, and perhaps driven forth miserably to starve” (1478), or when he laments that Bartleby’s taken to living in the office and feels for them as they are both “sons of Adam” (1481). These instances are bookended by visits to Trinity Church, lending them a particularly Christian flavor. The narrator goes to the church regularly, and in his faith he finds some degree of humanity to extend time and again to his increasingly strange employee.

When the narrator becomes revolted with Bartleby after deciding that the “scrivener [is] the victim of innate and incurable disorder” (1482), his faith lapses. He outright states that the “things [he] had seen disqualified him from church-going” (1482) as he continues on with the intention of excising the scrivener from his office. The more frustrated he grows, the more disconnected the narrative gets from the repeated inclusion of his Christianity and the tolerance the faith would expect him to practice.

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While reading Melville’s “Bartleby the Scrivener,” I was drawn to consistent themes of human behavior and society, specifically with the character Bartleby. Bartleby is not explicitly portrayed as insane, but rather as an enigmatic figure. His behavior is characterized by passive resistance, which includes his common response, “I would prefer not to,” when the narrator–the lawyer–asks him to complete a task for him. At the end of the story, the lawyer ends the story with one clue he was ever able to discover about Bartleby: his past employment at the Dead Letter Office. The Lawyer wonders whether it was this job (being depressing), that drove Bartleby to his strange madness. These uncertainties beg the following question: is Bartleby actually mentally deranged, or does he just embrace individualism?

Bartleby’s actions can be interpreted in various ways. On one hand, he can represent a symbol of passive resistance against a dehumanizing work environment. In this case, his behavior would act as form of protest against societal expectations. While he may not conform to social norms, it’s not necessarily an indication of insanity. Instead, his actions challenge the norms and conventions of the time. On the other hand, Bartleby’s previous work experience at the Dead Letter Office (as the narrator had described to be a traumatic work environment) may have caused Bartleby to sink into madness.

Ultimately, because either interpretation is not identified in Melville’s work, I don’t feel particularly strong about either argument. However, I really enjoy the ambiguity Melville has introduced here, as it allows for different interpretations about the text depending solely on the reader’s perspective.

-Siena Rose

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It was a bit of a change of mindset to read these stories right after analyzing the images of The Scarlet Letter. I thought these two stories from Meville sat as a surprising contrast to the Puritan ideals and values that Hawthorne used in his imagery and themes of his novel. In comparing and contrasting the two stories of Melville, it becomes clear that the narrator associates indulgence as a positive aspect of life and (literally and metaphorically) runs away from images of purity and denial of luxury. 

In “Paradise of Bachelors,” the narrator immediately finds themselves in the lap of luxury and comfort as they see men indulging in an endless parade of “glorious dinners,” snuff, Champagne and other vices. Instead of being offended by the endless supply of luxuries, the narrator repeats a sense of “comfort,” and they reflect that “it was the very perfection of quiet absorption of good living, good drinking, good feeling and good talk (1501).” In fact, it’s entirely ironic that the narrator claims that it is a “quiet absorption” when in the very next paragraph, the host plays the bugle. Whereas in the Scarlet Letter, indulgence of vices is seen as sin and related to hell, the narrator here goes so far as to declare the scene as a sign of “Paradise” (like Heaven). 

In the “Tartarus of Maids,” the narrator quickly shifts their perspective and immediately begins to describe their version of Tartarus (hell) even thought the images closely align with a Puritan vision of life. The narrator focuses on images of women focusing on hard work without any sort of adornments. Additionally, the scene is focused on “white” to describe everything which the Scarlet Letter would have seen as heavenly and pure. Instead, the narrator is clearly unsettled and declares the scene a “Tartarus of Maids!” 

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There is a paragraph on page 1482 of Bartleby, the Schivener that gets at the question of how far humans’ pity for another human being will extend. The narrator posits that “up to a certain point the thought or sight of misery enlists our best affections; but in certain special cases, beyond that point it does not.” He goes on to define that shifting point as “when at last it is perceived that such pity cannot lead to effectual succor.” This indicates that in general, we have empathy and care for people who are struggling, but once we feel as though we have lost control of the situation or can’t figure out some way to rectify it, we start to care less. 

This idea is shown through the narrator’s behavior throughout the story. He gets increasingly fed up with Bartleby refusing to complete any tasks, and as this sentiment grows so does his pity. He feels as though because Bartleby is obviously struggling with something, he can give Bartleby a pass. He continues to reach out in different ways (asking if he wants to help look over documents, insisting he look over documents, asking him to do other errands that may work better for him, etc.). This goes on until he realizes he cannot control or help Bartleby, and this is when he officially moves out and leaves Bartleby as someone else’s responsibility. While he still has some sympathy for the man, it is clear that his pity is not successful at helping Bartleby, and when this becomes clear, he quits. Despite the fact that he goes back to try to help him later on, the times at which he is most interested in helping Bartleby is towards the beginning when he still believes he can help or “fix” him. 

This reminds me of how society has treated mental health problems in the past. Everyone is willing to say they support people struggling with mental health until it becomes clear that there isn’t one easy fix for their depression or anxiety or eating disorder, etc. That is when people become frustrated, lash out, and refuse to continue “enabling.” This connects back to the narrators original point that pity runs out when it is not an “effectual succor,” which, when analyzing through the lens of mental health, I believe to be an accurate view of human nature. 

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In the story “Paradise of Bachelors and Tartarus of Maids” there is a strong contrast between the world of bachelors and the world of maids. The world of bachelors is described as a world of riches and education. The bachelors have many witty anecdotes to tell, talking about “Saracenic scenery” and “a funny case in law” (1500). At the bachelors’ dinner they have many fine dishes, such as “a saddle of mutton, a fat turkey, a chicken-pie, and endless other savory things” (1499). This is an enormous contrast to the Tartarus of Maids, which is described as a grim factory, where the women are largely unhappy. Melville describes the factory by saying that “machinery- that vaunted slave of humanity – here stood menially served by human beings, who served mutely and cringingly as the slave serves the Sultan” (1506). This suggests the dehumanization of the maids that work in the factory. 

I think that this story can be read as a metaphor for wealth inequality in the 19th century. In one part of the story you have the wealthy, educated men, and in the other, you have the lower classes who are fueling the Industrial Revolution. These two classes are normally very separate, as they live in different areas and have different social circles. But by placing them in the story side by side, Melville suggests that these two groups are actually connected. For example, the bachelors wouldn’t have any paper for books or letters without the work of the maids in the factory. Thus, Melville encourages us to think about how the prosperity of one class and the poverty of another might be interconnected. 

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From the title onward, Melville juxtaposes unmarried men and unmarried women in “Paradise of Bachelors and Tartarus of Maids.” The structure of the story alone places these men and women in different physical spaces, both on the page and in locale. While the “paradise” of the bachelors is urban and luxurious, the hell that the women occupy is wild. The men reside in London, which would have been perceived as sophisticated and intellectual, while the women live in the mountains in New England. This comparison fits in with the concern about American identity and intellectualism in the nineteenth century. 

What I find most interesting about this story is that the narrator shares some opinions that are fairly progressive in terms of feminism. On page 1510 he says “[d]oes that thin cobweb there…does that never tear or break? It is marvelous fragile, and yet this machine it passes through is so mighty.” I cannot help but read this as a metaphor for women living in the nineteenth century. On the same page, the narrator responds to the women in the factory being called girls and asks “[w]hy is it, Sir, that in most factories, female operatives, of whatever age, are indiscriminately called girls, never women?” In this question, the narrator is pointing out the belittling manner in which the women are treated. Additionally, Melville makes what I believe is a clear statement on marriage by sending unmarried women to “hell” and unmarried men to “heaven,” highlighting the potentially oppressive nature of marriage for women. 

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Upon reading Melville’s “The Paradise of Bachelors and the Tartarus of Maids,” I naturally noticed the direct contrasts between the two accounts: “Paradise (Heaven)” vs. “Tartarus (Hell);” “Bachelors” vs. “Maids;” London versus New England; etc. 

Upon first glance, the titles of the collaborative short stories suggest that England represents a paradise, or heaven, whereas America represents hell. This conclusion is further supported by the potentially symbolic physical dwellings described in each account: The bachelors of paradise dine in an “apartment…well up toward heaven” (1498), which stands in stark juxtaposition to the “great, purple, hopper-shaped…hollow…called the Devil’s Dungeon” (1502) that contains the maids’ paper mill. Following this line of reason, the bachelors indulge in lavish meals, an abundance of alcohol, splendid stories of their pasts, and embrace the narrator with “warm hearts and warmer welcomes” (1497). This appears to be a rather heavenly existence! On the other hand, the maids working at the paper mill greet the narrator “pale with work, and blue with cold; an eye supernatural with unrelated misery” (1505). They spend their days inhaling toxic fumes and monotonously feeding machines that they come to resemble themselves. The reader certainly recognizes this as hellish.

However, a reflection on the two dwellings reveals that the Bachelors of Paradise live in an ivory tower of ignorance, isolated from the rest of the world. The narrator goes so far as to speculate that “pain” and “trouble…seemed preposterous to their bachelor imaginations” (1501). Despite the light tone and apparent admiration of the narrator regarding the Paradise of Bachelors, Melville certainly seems to be sending a critical message of their sluggish, hedonistic lifestyle. The Maids of Tartarus, while in vastly different physical circumstances, are similarly isolated from the rest of the world, unaware of any existence beyond the mechanical dreariness of their own. While they are constantly hard at work, the maids are stagnant, just as the bachelors, in that they mindlessly repeat the same task in perpetuity. The narrator himself marks similarities between the Paradise of Bachelors and the Tartarus of Maids, the latter recognized as “the very counterpart of the Paradise of Bachelors, but snowed upon, and frost-painted to a sephulcre” (1504). 

The term “sephulcre,” however, suggests a depleted relationship between the Paradise of Bachelors and the Tartarus of Maids, and, therefore, between England and America. Representative of this relationship might be Cupid, the character in the Tartarus of Maids. Of course, the name “Cupid” alludes to some sort of traditional love story, as does the juxtaposition of “Bachelor” and “Maid.” However, the Cupid within the story is a rather ignorant character himself who acts “impudently.” When the narrator incredulously wonders how the maids work in a tight space full of “poisonous particles” without coughing, Cupid merely replies, “Oh, they are used to it.” If Cupid represents the link between the bachelors and maids and England and America, then it is evidently weak. The old-fashioned, detached English bachelors have lost any bond or communication with the young, industrialized American maids. In fact, these bachelors’ Paradise seems to make the maids’ lives reminiscent of Tartarus, or hell. I wonder if Melville’s metaphor of “bachelor” and “maiden” actually alludes to a broader commentary on the frigid, stagnant relationship between old England and young America.