Je ne préférerais pas (I would prefer not to)

In 1853, Herman Melville published the short story “Bartleby, The Scrivener: A Story of Wall-Street.” While of course Melville is most famous for Moby-Dick, this particular short story still finds its way occasionally into the literature references of pop culture. I first encountered this tale when I was a 20 year-old college sophomore taking my first Comparative Literature course and remember, quite distinctly, being completely fascinated by the simple, yet bizarrely compelling, story of Bartleby. The story takes place in a small legal office, where Bartleby has come to work copying ledgers and performing various other small tasks. He begins his work quite successfully and efficiently. One day, however, he decides that he would prefer not to do any more work. He is not confrontational; he does not quit his job. When asked to do something, he simply replies, “I’d prefer not to.” This passive rebellion infuriates the attorney, who tries every approach imaginable – from compassionate reasoning to physical removal – to get Bartleby to do something. In the end, the attorney is forced to re-locate his offices just to start anew away from Bartleby. The story is compelling in that Bartleby is so understated yet so successful in breaking all conventions of the employer-employee relationship.

The character Bartleby is not unlike the wall lizards with which we work. This past fall, conducting the experiment with Brooke, this story was brought to mind frequently. Our job was to prompt lizards into doing things that, on the surface, were seemingly simple tasks: to run, to flip over, to find a comfortable body temperature and stay there. Yet somehow our Podarcis friends channeled the spirit of Bartleby and showed us in their own way, simply, that they’d prefer not to.

Out of both infuriation and respect for our little wall lizards, today’s post includes a series of quotations from Melville’s story with accompanying photos to illustrate their Bartleby-esque behaviour.

“Imagine my surprise, nay, my consternation, when without moving from his privacy, Bartleby in a singularly mind, firm voice, replied, “I would prefer not to.”

Clearly, he would prefer not to.

“I looked at him steadfastly. His face was leanly composed; his gray eye dimly calm. Not a wrinkle of agitation rippled him.”

Look closely. He looks almost proud at the knot he was able to tie in the thermocouple cable.

“You are decided, then, not to comply with my request—a request made according to common usage and common sense.”

He briefly gave me to understand that on this point my judgment was sound. Yes: his decision was irreversible.

This one doesn’t even require a caption.

It was rather weak in me I confess, but his manner on this occasion nettled me. Not only did there seem to lurk in it a certain calm disdain, but his perverseness seemed ungrateful, considering the undeniable good usage and indulgence he had received from me.

OK, so maybe the lizards’ resistance wasn’t always entirely passive.

“The time has come; you must quit this place; I am sorry for you; here is money; but you must go.”

“I would prefer not,” he replied, with his back still towards me.

Even at the close of his participation in the experiments, this lizard just refused to go free. Instead, he instead tied himself up in Brooke’s hair.

Ah Bartleby! Ah humanity! [Ah lizards!]