Why does Bartleby exist, besides the fact that Herman Melville wrote him in in his short story, “Bartleby, the Scrivener”? The Narrator and his office crew could have gone on functioning properly without his existence. Who was this mild-tempered, annoyingly nonchalant copyist? Why did he live at the office, why didn’t he have a home of his own? Why, in the end, did he whither away like a leaf in winter? After the Narrator and his office crew moved, why did Bartleby stay in the old office, like a ghost? Why did he stare at nothing but walls? And what kind of name is Bartleby–or Turkey, or Nippers, or Ginger Nut, for that matter.

Theory: Bartleby was an untold story that, after a period, had to say goodbye forever.
That being said, the Narrator, a writer of sorts, told Bartleby’s story as he knew it, in an attempt to put it to rest. Essentially, Melville, in individualistic expression, needed to write this story as a eulogy attributing to all of his stories that were written but never to be read (or so he thought.) (That’s also why it’s in the Norton Anthology.)

Hard to believe? Well, it wouldn’t be the first unrealistic aspect of this story. Behold, a character who rarely eats, does none but one task and does it from “day-light to candle light,” stares at walls when he’s not copying, and refuses to leave the building even after his former employer and all the furniture leave the office (301).

Unstated in the theory earlier is the fact that Bartleby is part of the Narrator in the same way Turkey, Nippers, and Ginger Nut are. Age wise, if Bartleby is the Narrator’s aged counterpart with “dull and glazed” eyes, then Ginger Nut is the spicy, youthful lawyer’s apprentice who gets little to nothing out of his apprenticeship (311). Temperament wise, before noon, if Nippers is the Narrator’s tranquillity, then Turkey is the one to “glow in the face, overturn his inkstand, and become generally obstreperous” (314). Therefore, Bartleby, before dying, becomes a ghost, a shell in the office he once resided, his only home, before dying without ever divulging his full story. Bartleby has hit the proverbial wall, one he must stare down until he dies.

In conclusion, by the end of “Bartleby,” readers mourn for more than a sick character who died alone–they mourn for his story untold and any others that burn in the “Dead Letter Office,” the depository for undeliverable mail (321).