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cess ive o ffers o f h elp in o bta inin g new empl oyment. The las t has about
it a sort o f gro tesquely des pera te humor : to go "as a companion to
Eu rope, to enterta in some young gentl eman with your cO:1Versa tion–
how would that suit you ?" Upon Bartleby's refusal-his fin al "I like to
be sta ti onar y. But 1 am no t parti cul ar " points toward an infinity o f
offers and refu sals-the lawyer reach es the outermos t limits o f his
osc illa ti on between engagement and flight. H e loses "all pa–
tien ce ... for th e first time in a ll my exaspera ting connection with
him " and fli es " into a pass ion . . .. Despa iring of a ll furth er efforts, I
was precipita tely leavin g him when a fin a l thought occurred
to
me.. . ." The lawyer, "in the kindes t tone I could assume," in–
vites Bartleby "not to my office, but my dwelling," to live there
"until we can conclude upon some convenient arrangement for you a t
our leisure" - surely, th a t is, forever. The lawyer accepts the burden of
Bartl eby no t onl y indef initely, but with his whol e life: no t only in hi s
o ffi ce-where he had used a screen to " isola te Bartl eby from my sight"
whil e "privacy and society were conj o in ed" -but in his dwelling,
where such a screen has no place. Indeed , this is the onl y occas ion on
which we hear o f the lawyer as a pri va te person-as one who dwe lls in
a home as well as one who practi ces law in chambers, a ttends church ,
visits a jail , moves about the stree ts and environs of New York . This
fl ee ting passage hints a t the lawyer's priva te, more fully human
existence- and simultaneously has him offer this full er humanity to
Bar tl eby.
Refused , the lawyer has no more words, but rushes away. H av ing
done all poss ible, he " now strove to be entirely carefree and quiescent. "
He drives "a bout the upper part of the town through the suburbs , in
my rockaway; crossed over to Jersey City and Ho boken , and pa id
fu g iti ve vi sits to Manh a ttanville and Astori a" - an oscilla ting flight
around the sta ti onary Bartl eby, to whom , even in fli ght, h e remains
bound . Return ing, he learns tha t h is former landlord has had the
po lice take Bartl eby to the T ombs, and finds Bartl eby in the innermos t
of the prison 's " inclosed grass-pla tted yards," staring towards a "dead–
wa ll ," as he had don e endl ess ly in th e offi ce. In a movement the force of
whi ch is amplifi ed by its minimal but definite character , Bartleby
passes suddenly from inscrutabl e refusa l and silence to a single act of
accusa tion and reproach: "I know you , and I want no thing
to
say to
you .. .. I know where I am. " The lawyer arranges for Bartleby to be
well fed (tho ugh he of course refuses food ); returning la ter-no reason
is g iven-he find s Bartl eby dead before the prison wall. H e closes
Bar tl eby's eyes -the common ges ture a t dea th , but here endowed with
