- description
- # Narrator's Arrangement with the Grub-man
## Overview
This segment, titled "Narrator's Arrangement with the Grub-man," is a portion of the short story "[Bartleby, The Scrivener](arke:01KG8AJ8SS2R5YVRHT1BCDZZNP)" by Herman Melville. It spans lines 1436 to 1496 of the original text and was extracted from the file "[bartleby_the_scrivener.txt](arke:01KG89J1CRGPEZ66W67EZPAMPE)". This segment details a specific interaction between the narrator and a prison employee responsible for providing food.
## Context
This segment is part of the larger narrative of "[Bartleby, The Scrivener](arke:01KG8AJ8SS2R5YVRHT1BCDZZNP)," a short story within the "[Melville Complete Works](arke:01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW)" collection. It follows the narrator's visit to the Tombs, where he attempts to make arrangements for Bartleby's well-being. The preceding segment is "[Narrator's Visit to the Tombs and Interaction with Bartleby](arke:01KG8AJQ3D33H06YKM790GHKYE)," and the subsequent segment is "[Subsequent Search for Bartleby](arke:01KG8AJQ3DQ6AC7MPS2ZCD6KGQ)."
## Contents
In this segment, the narrator encounters a "grub-man" who offers to provide food for prisoners for a fee. The narrator hires the grub-man, named Mr. Cutlets, to ensure Bartleby receives good meals and is treated politely. However, Bartleby, in his characteristic manner, refuses the offered dinner, stating it would disagree with him and that he is "unused to dinners." The grub-man expresses surprise at Bartleby's odd behavior, prompting the narrator to sadly remark that Bartleby might be "deranged." The grub-man then reminisces about a "gentleman forger" named Monroe Edwards who died at Sing-Sing, before the narrator departs, promising to see the grub-man again.
- description_generated_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:09.243Z
- description_model
- gemini-2.5-flash-lite
- description_title
- Narrator's Arrangement with the Grub-man
- end_line
- 1496
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:47:37.562Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 1436
- text
- As I entered the corridor again, a broad meat-like man, in an apron,
accosted me, and jerking his thumb over his shoulder said—“Is that your
friend?”
“Yes.”
“Does he want to starve? If he does, let him live on the prison fare,
that’s all.”
“Who are you?” asked I, not knowing what to make of such an
unofficially speaking person in such a place.
“I am the grub-man. Such gentlemen as have friends here, hire me to
provide them with something good to eat.”
“Is this so?” said I, turning to the turnkey.
He said it was.
“Well then,” said I, slipping some silver into the grub-man’s hands
(for so they called him). “I want you to give particular attention to
my friend there; let him have the best dinner you can get. And you must
be as polite to him as possible.”
“Introduce me, will you?” said the grub-man, looking at me with an
expression which seemed to say he was all impatience for an opportunity
to give a specimen of his breeding.
Thinking it would prove of benefit to the scrivener, I acquiesced; and
asking the grub-man his name, went up with him to Bartleby.
“Bartleby, this is Mr. Cutlets; you will find him very useful to you.”
“Your sarvant, sir, your sarvant,” said the grub-man, making a low
salutation behind his apron. “Hope you find it pleasant here,
sir;—spacious grounds—cool apartments, sir—hope you’ll stay with us
some time—try to make it agreeable. May Mrs. Cutlets and I have the
pleasure of your company to dinner, sir, in Mrs. Cutlets’ private
room?”
“I prefer not to dine to-day,” said Bartleby, turning away. “It would
disagree with me; I am unused to dinners.” So saying he slowly moved to
the other side of the inclosure, and took up a position fronting the
dead-wall.
“How’s this?” said the grub-man, addressing me with a stare of
astonishment. “He’s odd, aint he?”
“I think he is a little deranged,” said I, sadly.
“Deranged? deranged is it? Well now, upon my word, I thought that
friend of yourn was a gentleman forger; they are always pale and
genteel-like, them forgers. I can’t pity’em—can’t help it, sir. Did you
know Monroe Edwards?” he added touchingly, and paused. Then, laying his
hand pityingly on my shoulder, sighed, “he died of consumption at
Sing-Sing. So you weren’t acquainted with Monroe?”
“No, I was never socially acquainted with any forgers. But I cannot
stop longer. Look to my friend yonder. You will not lose by it. I will
see you again.”
- title
- Narrator's Arrangement with the Grub-man