{"id":10356,"date":"2011-04-06T00:00:00","date_gmt":"2011-04-06T04:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/localhost\/thenewatlantis.com\/publications\/ethan-brand"},"modified":"2020-09-26T14:05:56","modified_gmt":"2020-09-26T18:05:56","slug":"ethan-brand","status":"publish","type":"article","link":"https:\/\/www.thenewatlantis.com\/publications\/ethan-brand","title":{"rendered":"Ethan Brand"},"content":{"rendered":"<style type=\"text\/css\"> .gutenberg-content table td:nth-child(2n) { background-color: white; padding-left: 30px; } .gutenberg-content table td { vertical-align: top; padding: 7px 0 20px 0; } .gutenberg-content table tr { border-width: 0; } .gutenberg-content table { font-size: inherit; line-height: inherit; border-width: 0; }<\/style>\n\n<div class=\"lazyblock-epigraph-1kzs0G wp-block-lazyblock-epigraph\"><div class=\"block-tna-editors-note md:mx-6 lg:mx-16 py-8 px-10 mb-6 bg-almost-white\">\r\n        <div class=\"font-bold text-lg text-center mb-2\">\r\n        Editor\u2019s Note      <\/div>\r\n    \t<div class=\"text-lg leading-relaxed\">\r\n\t  <p><a href=\"http:\/\/www.thenewatlantis.com\/collections\/nathaniel-hawthorne-and-the-spirit-of-science\"><img decoding=\"async\" loading=\"lazy\" class=\"aligncenter wp-image-14335 size-thumbnail\" src=\"http:\/\/www.thenewatlantis.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/07\/Hawthorne-Series-Banner-cropped-for-web-banner-640x256.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"640\" height=\"256\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.thenewatlantis.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/07\/Hawthorne-Series-Banner-cropped-for-web-banner-640x256.png 640w, https:\/\/www.thenewatlantis.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/07\/Hawthorne-Series-Banner-cropped-for-web-banner-1280x511.png 1280w, https:\/\/www.thenewatlantis.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/07\/Hawthorne-Series-Banner-cropped-for-web-banner-1536x614.png 1536w, https:\/\/www.thenewatlantis.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/07\/Hawthorne-Series-Banner-cropped-for-web-banner-600x240.png 600w, https:\/\/www.thenewatlantis.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/07\/Hawthorne-Series-Banner-cropped-for-web-banner.png 1920w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 640px) 100vw, 640px\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p>\u00a0<\/p>\n<p>This critical edition of Nathaniel Hawthorne\u2019s short story is accompanied by the essay \u201c<a href=\"https:\/\/www.thenewatlantis.com\/publications\/from-hearth-fires-to-hell-fires\">From Hearth-Fires to Hell-Fires<\/a>\u201d by Diana Schaub.<\/p>\t<\/div>\r\n\t<\/div><\/div>\n\n<table style=\"width: 100%;\" cellspacing=\"0\" cellpadding=\"0\" border=\"0\">\n<tbody>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p class=\"has-drop-cap\"><span>B<\/span>artram the lime-burner, a rough, heavy-looking man, begrimed with charcoal, sat watching his kiln, at nightfall, while his little son played at building houses with the scattered fragments of marble, when, on the hill-side below them, they heard a roar of laughter, not mirthful, but slow, and even solemn, like a wind shaking the boughs of the forest.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref1\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn1\">1*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cFather, what is that?\u201d asked the little boy, leaving his play, and pressing betwixt his father\u2019s knees.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>2<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cO, some drunken man, I suppose,\u201d answered the lime-burner; \u201csome merry fellow from the bar-room in the village, who dared not laugh loud enough within doors, lest he should blow the roof of the house off. So here he is, shaking his jolly sides at the foot of Graylock.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref3\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn3\">3*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cBut, father,\u201d said the child, more sensitive than the obtuse, middle-aged clown, \u201che does not laugh like a man that is glad. So the noise frightens me!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref4\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn4\">4*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cDon\u2019t be a fool, child!\u201d cried his father, gruffly. \u201cYou will never make a man, I do believe; there is too much of your mother in you. I have known the rustling of a leaf startle you. Hark! Here comes the merry fellow, now. You shall see that there is no harm in him.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>5<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>Bartram and his little son, while they were talking thus, sat watching the same lime-kiln that had been the scene of Ethan Brand\u2019s solitary and meditative life, before he began his search for the Unpardonable Sin. Many years, as we have seen, had now elapsed, since that portentous night when the Idea was first developed. The kiln, however, on the mountain-side, stood unimpaired, and was in nothing changed since he had thrown his dark thoughts into the intense glow of its furnace, and melted them, as it were, into the one thought that took possession of his life. It was a rude, round, tower-like structure, about twenty feet high, heavily built of rough stones, and with a hillock of earth heaped about the larger part of its circumference; so that the blocks and fragments of marble might be drawn by cart-loads, and thrown in at the top. There was an opening at the bottom of the tower, like an oven-mouth, but large enough to admit a man in a stooping posture, and provided with a massive iron door. With the smoke and jets of flame issuing from the chinks and crevices of this door, which seemed to give admittance into the hill-side, it resembled nothing so much as the private entrance to the infernal regions, which the shepherds of the Delectable Mountains were accustomed to show to pilgrims.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref6\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn6\">6*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>There are many such lime-kilns in that tract of country, for the purpose of burning the white marble which composes a large part of the substance of the hills. Some of them, built years ago, and long deserted, with weeds growing in the vacant round of the interior, which is open to the sky, and grass and wild-flowers rooting themselves into the chinks of the stones, look already like relics of antiquity, and may yet be overspread with the lichens of centuries to come. Others, where the lime-burner still feeds his daily and night-long fire, afford points of interest to the wanderer among the hills, who seats himself on a log of wood or a fragment of marble, to hold a chat with the solitary man. It is a lonesome, and, when the character is inclined to thought, may be an intensely thoughtful occupation; as it proved in the case of Ethan Brand, who had mused to such strange purpose, in days gone by, while the fire in this very kiln was burning.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>7<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>The man who now watched the fire was of a different order, and troubled himself with no thoughts save the very few that were requisite to his business. At frequent intervals, he flung back the clashing weight of the iron door, and, turning his face from the insufferable glare, thrust in huge logs of oak, or stirred the immense brands with a long pole. Within the furnace were seen the curling and riotous flames, and the burning marble, almost molten with the intensity of heat; while without, the reflection of the fire quivered on the dark intricacy of the surrounding forest, and showed in the foreground a bright and ruddy little picture of the hut, the spring beside its door, the athletic and coal-begrimed figure of the lime-burner, and the half-frightened child, shrinking into the protection of his father\u2019s shadow. And when again the iron door was closed, then re\u00e4ppeared the tender light of the half-full moon, which vainly strove to trace out the indistinct shapes of the neighboring mountains; and, in the upper sky, there was a flitting congregation of clouds, still faintly tinged with the rosy sunset, though thus far down into the valley the sunshine had vanished long and long ago.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>8<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>The little boy now crept still closer to his father, as footsteps were heard ascending the hill-side, and a human form thrust aside the bushes that clustered beneath the trees.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>9<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cHalloo! who is it?\u201d cried the lime-burner, vexed at his son\u2019s timidity, yet half infected by it. \u201cCome forward, and show yourself, like a man, or I\u2019ll fling this chunk of marble at your head!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>10<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cYou offer me a rough welcome,\u201d said a gloomy voice, as the unknown man drew nigh. \u201cYet I neither claim nor desire a kinder one, even at my own fireside.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref11\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn11\">11*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>To obtain a distincter view, Bartram threw open the iron door of the kiln, whence immediately issued a gush of fierce light, that smote full upon the stranger\u2019s face and figure. To a careless eye there appeared nothing very remarkable in his aspect, which was that of a man in a coarse, brown, country-made suit of clothes, tall and thin, with the staff and heavy shoes of a wayfarer. As he advanced, he fixed his eyes \u2014 which were very bright \u2014 intently upon the brightness of the furnace, as if he beheld, or expected to behold, some object worthy of note within it.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref12\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn12\">12*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cGood-evening, stranger,\u201d said the lime-burner; \u201cwhence come you, so late in the day?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>13<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cI come from my search,\u201d answered the wayfarer; \u201cfor, at last, it is finished.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>14<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cDrunk! \u2014 or crazy!\u201d muttered Bartram to himself. \u201cI shall have trouble with the fellow. The sooner I drive him away, the better.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>15<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>The little boy, all in a tremble, whispered to his father, and begged him to shut the door of the kiln, so that there might not be so much light; for that there was something in the man\u2019s face which he was afraid to look at, yet could not look away from. And, indeed, even the lime-burner\u2019s dull and torpid sense began to be impressed by an indescribable something in that thin, rugged, thoughtful visage, with the grizzled hair hanging wildly about it, and those deeply-sunken eyes, which gleamed like fires within the entrance of a mysterious cavern. But, as he closed the door, the stranger turned towards him, and spoke in a quiet, familiar way, that made Bartram feel as if he were a sane and sensible man, after all.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref16\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn16\">16*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cYour task draws to an end, I see,\u201d said he. \u201cThis marble has already been burning three days. A few hours more will convert the stone to lime.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>17<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cWhy, who are you?\u201d exclaimed the lime-burner. \u201cYou seem as well acquainted with my business as I am myself.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>18<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cAnd well I may be,\u201d said the stranger; \u201cfor I followed the same craft many a long year, and here, too, on this very spot. But you are a new comer in these parts. Did you never hear of Ethan Brand?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>19<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cThe man that went in search of the Unpardonable Sin?\u201d asked Bartram, with a laugh.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>20<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cThe same,\u201d answered the stranger. \u201cHe has found what he sought, and therefore he comes back again.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>21<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cWhat! then you are Ethan Brand himself?\u201d cried the lime-burner, in amazement. \u201cI am a new comer here, as you say, and they call it eighteen years since you left the foot of Graylock. But, I can tell you, the good folks still talk about Ethan Brand, in the village yonder, and what a strange errand took him away from his lime-kiln. Well, and so you have found the Unpardonable Sin?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>22<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cEven so!\u201d said the stranger, calmly.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>23<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cIf the question is a fair one,\u201d proceeded Bartram, \u201cwhere might it be?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>24<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>Ethan Brand laid his finger on his own heart.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>25<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cHere!\u201d replied he.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>26<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>And then, without mirth in his countenance, but as if moved by an involuntary recognition of the infinite absurdity of seeking throughout the world for what was the closest of all things to himself, and looking into every heart, save his own, for what was hidden in no other breast, he broke into a laugh of scorn. It was the same slow, heavy laugh, that had almost appalled the lime-burner when it heralded the wayfarer\u2019s approach.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref27\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn27\">27*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>The solitary mountain-side was made dismal by it. Laughter, when out of place, mistimed, or bursting forth from a disordered state of feeling, may be the most terrible modulation of the human voice. The laughter of one asleep, even if it be a little child, \u2014 the madman\u2019s laugh, \u2014 the wild, screaming laugh of a born idiot, \u2014 are sounds that we sometimes tremble to hear, and would always willingly forget. Poets have imagined no utterance of fiends or hobgoblins so fearfully appropriate as a laugh. And even the obtuse lime-burner felt his nerves shaken, as this strange man looked inward at his own heart, and burst into laughter that rolled away into the night, and was indistinctly reverberated among the hills.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>28<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cJoe,\u201d said he to his little son, \u201cscamper down to the tavern in the village, and tell the jolly fellows there that Ethan Brand has come back, and that he has found the Unpardonable Sin!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>29<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>The boy darted away on his errand, to which Ethan Brand made no objection, nor seemed hardly to notice it. He sat on a log of wood, looking steadfastly at the iron door of the kiln. When the child was out of sight, and his swift and light footsteps ceased to be heard treading first on the fallen leaves and then on the rocky mountain-path, the lime-burner began to regret his departure. He felt that the little fellow\u2019s presence had been a barrier between his guest and himself, and that he must now deal, heart to heart, with a man who, on his own confession, had committed the one only crime for which Heaven could afford no mercy. That crime, in its indistinct blackness, seemed to overshadow him. The lime-burner\u2019s own sins rose up within him, and made his memory riotous with a throng of evil shapes that asserted their kindred with the Master Sin, whatever it might be, which it was within the scope of man\u2019s corrupted nature to conceive and cherish. They were all of one family; they went to and fro between his breast and Ethan Brand\u2019s, and carried dark greetings from one to the other.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>30<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>Then Bartram remembered the stories which had grown traditionary in reference to this strange man, who had come upon him like a shadow of the night, and was making himself at home in his old place, after so long absence that the dead people, dead and buried for years, would have had more right to be at home, in any familiar spot, than he. Ethan Brand, it was said, had conversed with Satan himself in the lurid blaze of this very kiln. The legend had been matter of mirth heretofore, but looked grisly now. According to this tale, before Ethan Brand departed on his search, he had been accustomed to evoke a fiend from the hot furnace of the lime-kiln, night after night, in order to confer with him about the Unpardonable Sin; the man and the fiend each laboring to frame the image of some mode of guilt which could neither be atoned for nor forgiven. And, with the first gleam of light upon the mountain-top, the fiend crept in at the iron door, there to abide the intensest element of fire, until again summoned forth to share in the dreadful task of extending man\u2019s possible guilt beyond the scope of Heaven\u2019s else infinite mercy.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref31\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn31\">31*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>While the lime-burner was struggling with the horror of these thoughts, Ethan Brand rose from the log, and flung open the door of the kiln. The action was in such accordance with the idea in Bartram\u2019s mind, that he almost expected to see the Evil One issue forth, red-hot from the raging furnace.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>32<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cHold! hold!\u201d cried he, with a tremulous attempt to laugh; for he was ashamed of his fears, although they overmastered him. \u201cDon\u2019t, for mercy\u2019s sake, bring out your devil now!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref33\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn33\">33*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cMan!\u201d sternly replied Ethan Brand, \u201cwhat need have I of the devil? I have left him behind me, on my track. It is with such half-way sinners as you that he busies himself. Fear not, because I open the door. I do but act by old custom, and am going to trim your fire, like a lime-burner, as I was once.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>34<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>He stirred the vast coals, thrust in more wood, and bent forward to gaze into the hollow prison-house of the fire, regardless of the fierce glow that reddened upon his face. The lime-burner sat watching him, and half suspected his strange guest of a purpose, if not to evoke a fiend, at least to plunge bodily into the flames, and thus vanish from the sight of man. Ethan Brand, however, drew quietly back, and closed the door of the kiln.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref35\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn35\">35*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cI have looked,\u201d said he, \u201cinto many a human heart that was seven times hotter with sinful passions than yonder furnace is with fire. But I found not there what I sought. No, not the Unpardonable Sin!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>36<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cWhat is the Unpardonable Sin?\u201d asked the lime-burner; and then he shrank further from his companion, trembling lest his question should be answered.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>37<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cIt is a sin that grew within my own breast,\u201d replied Ethan Brand, standing erect, with a pride that distinguishes all enthusiasts of his stamp. \u201cA sin that grew nowhere else! The sin of an intellect that triumphed over the sense of brotherhood with man and reverence for God, and sacrificed everything to its own mighty claims! The only sin that deserves a recompense of immortal agony! Freely, were it to do again, would I incur the guilt. Unshrinkingly I accept the retribution!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref38\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn38\">38*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cThe man\u2019s head is turned,\u201d muttered the lime-burner to himself. \u201cHe may be a sinner, like the rest of us, \u2014 nothing more likely, \u2014 but, I\u2019ll be sworn, he is a madman too.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>39<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>Nevertheless he felt uncomfortable at his situation, alone with Ethan Brand on the wild mountain-side, and was right glad to hear the rough murmur of tongues, and the footsteps of what seemed a pretty numerous party, stumbling over the stones and rustling through the underbrush. Soon appeared the whole lazy regiment that was wont to infest the village tavern, comprehending three or four individuals who had drunk flip beside the bar-room fire through all the winters, and smoked their pipes beneath the stoop through all the summers, since Ethan Brand\u2019s departure. Laughing boisterously, and mingling all their voices together in unceremonious talk, they now burst into the moonshine and narrow streaks of fire-light that illuminated the open space before the lime-kiln. Bartram set the door ajar again, flooding the spot with light, that the whole company might get a fair view of Ethan Brand, and he of them.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref40\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn40\">40*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>There, among other old acquaintances, was a once ubiquitous man, now almost extinct, but whom we were formerly sure to encounter at the hotel of every thriving village throughout the country. It was the stage-agent. The present specimen of the genus was a wilted and smoke-dried man, wrinkled and red-nosed, in a smartly-cut, brown, bob-tailed coat, with brass buttons, who, for a length of time unknown, had kept his desk and corner in the bar-room, and was still puffing what seemed to be the same cigar that he had lighted twenty years before. He had great fame as a dry joker, though, perhaps, less on account of any intrinsic humor than from a certain flavour of brandy-toddy and tobacco-smoke, which impregnated all his ideas and expressions, as well as his person. Another well-remembered though strangely-altered face was that of Lawyer Giles, as people still called him in courtesy; an elderly ragamuffin, in his soiled shirt-sleeves and tow-cloth trousers. This poor fellow had been an attorney, in what he called his better days, a sharp practitioner, and in great vogue among the village litigants; but flip, and sling, and toddy, and cocktails, imbibed at all hours, morning, noon and night, had caused him to slide from intellectual to various kinds and degrees of bodily labor, till at last, to adopt his own phrase, he slid into a soap-vat. In other words, Giles was now a soap-boiler, in a small way. He had come to be but the fragment of a human being, a part of one foot having been chopped off by an axe, and an entire hand torn away by the devilish grip of a steam-engine. Yet, though the corporeal hand was gone, a spiritual member remained; for, stretching forth the stump, Giles steadfastly averred that he felt an invisible thumb and fingers with as vivid a sensation as before the real ones were amputated. A maimed and miserable wretch he was; but one, nevertheless, whom the world could not trample on, and had no right to scorn, either in this or any previous stage of his misfortunes, since he had still kept up the courage and spirit of a man, asked nothing in charity, and with his one hand \u2014 and that the left one \u2014 fought a stern battle against want and hostile circumstances.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref41\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn41\">41*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>Among the throng, too, came another personage, who, with certain points of similarity to Lawyer Giles, had many more of difference. It was the village doctor; a man of some fifty years, whom, at an earlier period of his life, we introduced as paying a professional visit to Ethan Brand during the latter\u2019s supposed insanity. He was now a purple-visaged, rude, and brutal, yet half-gentlemanly figure, with something wild, ruined, and desperate in his talk, and in all the details of his gesture and manners. Brandy possessed this man like an evil spirit, and made him as surly and savage as a wild beast, and as miserable as a lost soul; but there was supposed to be in him such wonderful skill, such native gifts of healing, beyond any which medical science could impart, that society caught hold of him, and would not let him sink out of its reach. So, swaying to and fro upon his horse, and grumbling thick accents at the bedside, he visited all the sick chambers for miles about among the mountain towns, and sometimes raised a dying man, as it were, by miracle, or quite as often, no doubt, sent his patient to a grave that was dug many a year too soon. The doctor had an everlasting pipe in his mouth, and, as somebody said, in allusion to his habit of swearing, it was always alight with hell-fire.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref42\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn42\">42*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>These three worthies pressed forward, and greeted Ethan Brand each after his own fashion, earnestly inviting him to partake of the contents of a certain black bottle, in which, as they averred, he would find something far better worth seeking for than the Unpardonable Sin. No mind, which has wrought itself by intense and solitary meditation into a high state of enthusiasm, can endure the kind of contact with low and vulgar modes of thought and feeling to which Ethan Brand was now subjected. It made him doubt \u2014 and, strange to say, it was a painful doubt \u2014 whether he had indeed found the Unpardonable Sin, and found it within himself. The whole question on which he had exhausted life, and more than life, looked like a delusion.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref43\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn43\">43*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cLeave me,\u201d he said bitterly, \u201cye brute beasts, that have made yourselves so, shrivelling up your souls with fiery liquors! I have done with you. Years and years ago, I groped into your hearts, and found nothing there for my purpose. Get ye gone!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>44<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cWhy, you uncivil scoundrel,\u201d cried the fierce doctor, \u201cis that the way you respond to the kindness of your best friends? Then let me tell you the truth. You have no more found the Unpardonable Sin than yonder boy Joe has. You are but a crazy fellow, \u2014 I told you so twenty years ago, \u2014 neither better nor worse than a crazy fellow, and the fit companion of old Humphrey, here!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>45<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>He pointed to an old man, shabbily dressed, with long white hair, thin visage, and unsteady eyes. For some years past this aged person had been wandering about among the hills, inquiring of all travellers whom he met for his daughter. The girl, it seemed, had gone off with a company of circus-performers; and occasionally tidings of her came to the village, and fine stories were told of her glittering appearance as she rode on horseback in the ring, or performed marvellous feats on the tight-rope.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>46<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>The white-haired father now approached Ethan Brand, and gazed unsteadily into his face.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>47<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cThey tell me you have been all over the earth,\u201d said he, wringing his hands with earnestness. \u201cYou must have seen my daughter, for she makes a grand figure in the world, and everybody goes to see her. Did she send any word to her old father, or say when she was coming back?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>48<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>Ethan Brand\u2019s eye quailed beneath the old man\u2019s. That daughter, from whom he so earnestly desired a word of greeting, was the Esther of our tale, the very girl whom, with such cold and remorseless purpose, Ethan Brand had made the subject of a psychological experiment, and wasted, absorbed, and perhaps annihilated her soul, in the process.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref49\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn49\">49*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cYes,\u201d murmured he, turning away from the hoary wanderer; \u201cit is no delusion. There is an Unpardonable Sin!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref50\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn50\">50*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>While these things were passing, a merry scene was going forward in the area of cheerful light, beside the spring and before the door of the hut. A number of the youth of the village, young men and girls, had hurried up the hill-side, impelled by curiosity to see Ethan Brand, the hero of so many a legend familiar to their childhood. Finding nothing, however, very remarkable in his aspect, \u2014 nothing but a sun-burnt wayfarer, in plain garb and dusty shoes, who sat looking into the fire, as if he fancied pictures among the coals, \u2014 these young people speedily grew tired of observing him. As it happened, there was other amusement at hand. An old German Jew, travelling with a diorama on his back, was passing down the mountain-road towards the village just as the party turned aside from it, and, in hopes of eking out the profits of the day, the showman had kept them company to the lime-kiln.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref51\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn51\">51*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cCome, old Dutchman,\u201d cried one of the young men, \u201clet us see your pictures, if you can swear they are worth looking at!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref52\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn52\">52*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cO, yes, Captain,\u201d answered the Jew, \u2014 whether as a matter of courtesy or craft, he styled everybody Captain, \u2014 \u201cI shall show you, indeed, some very superb pictures!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>53<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>So, placing his box in a proper position, he invited the young men and girls to look through the glass orifices of the machine, and proceeded to exhibit a series of the most outrageous scratchings and daubings, as specimens of the fine arts, that ever an itinerant showman had the face to impose upon his circle of spectators. The pictures were worn out, moreover, tattered, full of cracks and wrinkles, dingy with tobacco-smoke, and otherwise in a most pitiable condition. Some purported to be cities, public edifices, and ruined castles in Europe; others represented Napoleon\u2019s battles and Nelson\u2019s sea-fights; and in the midst of these would be seen a gigantic, brown, hairy hand, \u2014 which might have been mistaken for the Hand of Destiny, though, in truth, it was only the showman\u2019s, \u2014 pointing its forefinger to various scenes of the conflict, while its owner gave historical illustrations. When, with much merriment at its abominable deficiency of merit, the exhibition was concluded, the German bade little Joe put his head into the box. Viewed through the magnifying glasses, the boy\u2019s round, rosy visage assumed the strangest imaginable aspect of an immense Titanic child, the mouth grinning broadly, and the eyes and every other feature overflowing with fun at the joke. Suddenly, however, that merry face turned pale, and its expression changed to horror, for this easily impressed and excitable child had become sensible that the eye of Ethan Brand was fixed upon him through the glass.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref54\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn54\">54*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cYou make the little man to be afraid, Captain,\u201d said the German Jew, turning up the dark and strong outline of his visage, from his stooping posture. \u201cBut look again, and, by chance, I shall cause you to see somewhat that is very fine, upon my word!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref55\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn55\">55*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>Ethan Brand gazed into the box for an instant, and then starting back, looked fixedly at the German. What had he seen? Nothing, apparently; for a curious youth, who had peeped in almost at the same moment, beheld only a vacant space of canvas.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>56<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cI remember you now,\u201d muttered Ethan Brand to the showman.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>57<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cAh, Captain,\u201d whispered the Jew of Nuremburg, with a dark smile, \u201cI find it to be a heavy matter in my show-box, \u2014 this Unpardonable Sin! By my faith, Captain, it has wearied my shoulders, this long day, to carry it over the mountain.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref58\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn58\">58*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cPeace,\u201d answered Ethan Brand, sternly, \u201cor get thee into the furnace yonder!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>59<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>The Jew\u2019s exhibition had scarcely concluded, when a great, elderly dog, \u2014 who seemed to be his own master, as no person in the company laid claim to him, \u2014 saw fit to render himself the object of public notice. Hitherto, he had shown himself a very quiet, well-disposed old dog, going round from one to another, and, by way of being sociable, offering his rough head to be patted by any kindly hand that would take so much trouble. But now, all of a sudden, this grave and venerable quadruped, of his own mere motion, and without the slightest suggestion from anybody else, began to run round after his tail, which, to heighten the absurdity of the proceeding, was a great deal shorter than it should have been. Never was seen such headlong eagerness in pursuit of an object that could not possibly be attained; never was heard such a tremendous outbreak of growling, snarling, barking, and snapping, \u2014 as if one end of the ridiculous brute\u2019s body were at deadly and most unforgivable enmity with the other. Faster and faster, round about went the cur; and faster and still faster fled the unapproachable brevity of his tail; and louder and fiercer grew his yells of rage and animosity; until, utterly exhausted, and as far from the goal as ever, the foolish old dog ceased his performance as suddenly as he had begun it. The next moment he was as mild, quiet, sensible, and respectable in his deportment, as when he first scraped acquaintance with the company.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref60\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn60\">60*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>As may be supposed, the exhibition was greeted with universal laughter, clapping of hands, and shouts of encore, to which the canine performer responded by wagging all that there was to wag of his tail, but appeared totally unable to repeat his very successful effort to amuse the spectators.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>61<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>Meanwhile, Ethan Brand had resumed his seat on the log, and moved, it might be, by a perception of some remote analogy between his own case and that of this self-pursuing cur, he broke into the awful laugh, which, more than any other token, expressed the condition of his inward being. From that moment, the merriment of the party was at an end; they stood aghast, dreading lest the inauspicious sound should be reverberated around the horizon, and that mountain would thunder it to mountain, and so the horror be prolonged upon their ears. Then, whispering one to another that it was late, \u2014 that the moon was almost down, \u2014 that the August night was growing chill, \u2014 they hurried homewards, leaving the lime-burner and little Joe to deal as they might with their unwelcome guest. Save for these three human beings, the open space on the hill-side was a solitude, set in a vast gloom of forest. Beyond that darksome verge, the fire-light glimmered on the stately trunks and almost black foliage of pines, intermixed with the lighter verdure of sapling oaks, maples, and poplars, while here and there lay the gigantic corpses of dead trees, decaying on the leaf-strewn soil. And it seemed to little Joe \u2014 a timorous and imaginative child \u2014 that the silent forest was holding its breath, until some fearful thing should happen.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref62\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn62\">62*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>Ethan Brand thrust more wood into the fire, and closed the door of the kiln; then looking over his shoulder at the lime-burner and his son, he bade, rather than advised, them to retire to rest.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref63\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn63\">63*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cFor myself, I cannot sleep,\u201d said he. \u201cI have matters that it concerns me to meditate upon. I will watch the fire, as I used to do in the old time.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>64<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cAnd call the devil out of the furnace to keep you company, I suppose,\u201d muttered Bartram, who had been making intimate acquaintance with the black bottle above-mentioned. \u201cBut watch, if you like, and call as many devils as you like! For my part, I shall be all the better for a snooze. Come, Joe!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>65<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>As the boy followed his father into the hut, he looked back at the wayfarer, and the tears came into his eyes, for his tender spirit had an intuition of the bleak and terrible loneliness in which this man had enveloped himself.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>66<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>When they had gone, Ethan Brand sat listening to the crackling of the kindled wood, and looking at the little spirts of fire that issued through the chinks of the door. These trifles, however, once so familiar, had but the slightest hold of his attention, while deep within his mind he was reviewing the gradual but marvellous change that had been wrought upon him by the search to which he had devoted himself. He remembered how the night dew had fallen upon him, \u2014 how the dark forest had whispered to him, \u2014 how the stars had gleamed upon him, \u2014 a simple and loving man, watching his fire in the years gone by, and ever musing as it burned. He remembered with what tenderness, with what love and sympathy for mankind, and what pity for human guilt and woe, he had first begun to contemplate those ideas which afterwards became the inspiration of his life; with what reverence he had then looked into the heart of man, viewing it as a temple originally divine, and, however desecrated, still to be held sacred by a brother; with what awful fear he had deprecated the success of his pursuit, and prayed that the Unpardonable Sin might never be revealed to him. Then ensued that vast intellectual development, which, in its progress, disturbed the counterpoise between his mind and heart. The Idea that possessed his life had operated as a means of education; it had gone on cultivating his powers to the highest point of which they were susceptible; it had raised him from the level of an unlettered laborer to stand on a star-lit eminence, whither the philosophers of the earth, laden with the lore of universities, might vainly strive to clamber after him. So much for the intellect! But where was the heart? That, indeed, had withered \u2014 had contracted \u2014 had hardened \u2014 had perished! It had ceased to partake of the universal throb. He had lost his hold of the magnetic chain of humanity. He was no longer a brother-man, opening the chambers or the dungeons of our common nature by the key of holy sympathy, which gave him a right to share in all its secrets; he was now a cold observer, looking on mankind as the subject of his experiment, and, at length, converting man and woman to be his puppets, and pulling the wires that moved them to such degrees of crime as were demanded for his study.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref67\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn67\">67*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>Thus Ethan Brand became a fiend. He began to be so from the moment that his moral nature had ceased to keep the pace of improvement with his intellect. And now, as his highest effort and inevitable development, \u2014 as the bright and gorgeous flower, and rich, delicious fruit of his life\u2019s labor, \u2014 he had produced the Unpardonable Sin!<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>68<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cWhat more have I to seek? What more to achieve?\u201d said Ethan Brand to himself. \u201cMy task is done, and well done!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>69<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>Starting from the log with a certain alacrity in his gait, and ascending the hillock of earth that was raised against the stone circumference of the lime-kiln, he thus reached the top of the structure. It was a space of perhaps ten feet across, from edge to edge, presenting a view of the upper surface of the immense mass of broken marble with which the kiln was heaped. All these innumerable blocks and fragments of marble were red-hot and vividly on fire, sending up great spouts of blue flame, which quivered aloft and danced madly, as within a magic circle, and sank and rose again, with continual and multitudinous activity. As the lonely man bent forward over this terrible body of fire, the blasting heat smote up against his person with a breath that, it might be supposed, would have scorched and shrivelled him up in a moment.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref70\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn70\">70*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>Ethan Brand stood erect, and raised his arms on high. The blue flames played upon his face, and imparted the wild and ghastly light which alone could have suited its expression; it was that of a fiend on the verge of plunging into his gulf of intensest torment.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>71<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cO Mother Earth,\u201d cried he, \u201cwho art no more my Mother, and into whose bosom this frame shall never be resolved! O mankind, whose brotherhood I have cast off, and trampled thy great heart beneath my feet! O stars of heaven, that shone on me of old, as if to light me onward and upward! \u2014 farewell all, and forever. Come, deadly element of Fire, \u2014 henceforth my familiar friend! Embrace me, as I do thee!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref72\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn72\">72*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>That night the sound of a fearful peal of laughter rolled heavily through the sleep of the lime-burner and his little son; dim shapes of horror and anguish haunted their dreams, and seemed still present in the rude hovel, when they opened their eyes to the daylight.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>73<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cUp, boy, up!\u201d cried the lime-burner, staring about him. \u201cThank Heaven, the night is gone, at last; and rather than pass such another, I would watch my lime-kiln, wide awake, for a twelvemonth. This Ethan Brand, with his humbug of an Unpardonable Sin, has done me no such mighty favor, in taking my place!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref74\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn74\">74*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>He issued from the hut, followed by little Joe, who kept fast hold of his father\u2019s hand. The early sunshine was already pouring its gold upon the mountain-tops; and though the valleys were still in shadow, they smiled cheerfully in the promise of the bright day that was hastening onward. The village, completely shut in by hills, which swelled away gently about it, looked as if it had rested peacefully in the hollow of the great hand of Providence. Every dwelling was distinctly visible; the little spires of the two churches pointed upwards, and caught a fore-glimmering of brightness from the sun-gilt skies upon their gilded weather-cocks. The tavern was astir, and the figure of the old, smoke-dried stage-agent, cigar in mouth, was seen beneath the stoop. Old Graylock was glorified with a golden cloud upon his head. Scattered likewise over the breasts of the surrounding mountains, there were heaps of hoary mist, in fantastic shapes, some of them far down into the valley, others high up towards the summits, and still others, of the same family of mist or cloud, hovering in the gold radiance of the upper atmosphere. Stepping from one to another of the clouds that rested on the hills, and thence to the loftier brotherhood that sailed in air, it seemed almost as if a mortal man might thus ascend into the heavenly regions. Earth was so mingled with sky that it was a day-dream to look at it.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref75\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn75\">75*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>To supply that charm of the familiar and homely, which Nature so readily adopts into a scene like this, the stage-coach was rattling down the mountain-road, and the driver sounded his horn, while echo caught up the notes, and intertwined them into a rich and varied and elaborate harmony, of which the original performer could lay claim to little share. The great hills played a concert among themselves, each contributing a strain of airy sweetness.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref76\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn76\">76*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>Little Joe\u2019s face brightened at once.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>77<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cDear father,\u201d cried he, skipping cheerily to and fro, \u201cthat strange man is gone, and the sky and the mountains all seem glad of it!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>78<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cYes,\u201d growled the lime-burner, with an oath, \u201cbut he has let the fire go down, and no thanks to him if five hundred bushels of lime are not spoiled. If I catch the fellow hereabouts again, I shall feel like tossing him into the furnace!\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>79<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>With his long pole in his hand, he ascended to the top of the kiln. After a moment\u2019s pause, he called to his son.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>80<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cCome up here, Joe!\u201d said he.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>81<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>So little Joe ran up the hillock, and stood by his father\u2019s side. The marble was all burnt into perfect, snow-white lime. But on its surface, in the midst of the circle, \u2014 snow-white too, and thoroughly converted into lime, \u2014 lay a human skeleton, in the attitude of a person who, after long toil, lies down to long repose. Within the ribs \u2014 strange to say \u2014 was the shape of a human heart.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref82\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn82\">82*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>\u201cWas the fellow\u2019s heart made of marble?\u201d cried Bartram, in some perplexity at this phenomenon. \u201cAt any rate, it is burnt into what looks like special good lime; and, taking all the bones together, my kiln is half a bushel the richer for him.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p>83<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<tr>\n<td>\n<p>So saying, the rude lime-burner lifted his pole, and, letting it fall upon the skeleton, the relics of Ethan Brand were crumbled into fragments.<\/p>\n<\/td>\n<td width=\"10\">&nbsp;<\/td>\n<td width=\"5%\" valign=\"top\" align=\"left\">\n<p><a name=\"ftnref84\"><\/a><strong><a href=\"#ftn84\">84*<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/tbody>\n<\/table>\n\n<div class=\"lazyblock-section-break-ILNx9 wp-block-lazyblock-section-break\"><div class=\"block-tna-section-break mt-12 pt-2 mb-6\">\r\n  <div class=\"mb-12 pb-2 flex justify-center\">\r\n    <svg class=\"fill-current\" height=\"1\" width=\"91\" viewBox=\"0 0 91 1\">\r\n      <path d=\"M91 .5L62.706 1H28.447L0 .5 28.447 0h34.259L91 .5z\"\/>\r\n    <\/svg>\r\n  <\/div>\r\n\t<h5 class=\"leading-none font-callunasans font-bold text-center text-almost-black text-lg\">\r\n\t\t\t<\/h5>\r\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n<h2 class=\"has-text-align-center\">Notes<\/h2>\n\n\n\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn1\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref1\">[paragraph 1]<\/a><\/strong> <b>\u201cEthan Brand\u201d<\/b> was originally published in the <em>Boston Weekly Museum<\/em> in January 1850. It was collected in <em>The Snow Image and Other Twice-Told Tales<\/em>, upon the first edition of which (1852) this text is based. The story\u2019s subtitle, \u201cA Chapter from an Abortive Romance,\u201d which was first used in <em>The Snow Image<\/em>, seems to imply that \u201cEthan Brand\u201d was just one chapter from a novel Hawthorne never finished. Some critics agree, and point to clues in the text that hint at a larger work. But Gregory R. Wegner convincingly argues that the story stands alone \u2014 that it is not part of a novel, but one item in a collection of \u201cOld Time Legends, Together with Sketches, Experimental and Ideal\u201d that Hawthorne was planning. (See Wegner\u2019s essay \u201cHawthorne\u2019s \u2018Ethan Brand\u2019 and the Structure of the Literary Sketch,\u201d <em>Journal of Narrative Technique<\/em>, volume 17, number 1, pp. 57-66.)<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>lime-burner<\/b> \u2013 Lime is used to make construction materials (like cement and mortar) and household materials (like some kinds of glass and porcelain). It is obtained by burning limestone in a special kiln (oven). A lime burner is a person who tends such a lime-kiln.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>mirthful<\/b> \u2013 joyful; merry; full of mirth, the emotion usually following a jest<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn3\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref3\">[paragraph 3]<\/a><\/strong> <b>Graylock<\/b> \u2013 Mount Graylock (today spelled \u201cGreylock\u201d), located in the Berkshires region of Massachusetts, is the highest point in the state. While vacationing in the area in 1838, Hawthorne described in his notebooks many of the elements that, more than a decade later, he would incorporate in this story, including the stage-agent, Lawyer Giles, the doctor, the old man searching for his daughter, the old German Jew, and the dog that chases its own tail. In <em>A Wonder-Book for Girls and Boys<\/em> (1852), Hawthorne suggested that the \u201cgigantic shape of Graylock\u201d might have inspired his friend Herman Melville\u2019s \u201cgigantic conception\u201d of the white whale, Moby-Dick; Melville could see the mountain looming from the window of his farmhouse.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn4\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref4\">[paragraph 4]<\/a><\/strong> <b>clown<\/b> \u2013 a rustic; a man without refinement or culture<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn6\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref6\">[paragraph 6]<\/a><\/strong> <b>portentous<\/b> \u2013 foreboding, ominous<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>rude<\/b> \u2013 poorly formed, primitive<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>give admittance<\/b> \u2013 provide entrance, form an entrance<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>Delectable Mountains<\/b> \u2013 A region found in the Christian allegorical novel <em>The Pilgrim\u2019s Progress<\/em> (1678), by John Bunyan. A door in the side of these mountains is an entryway to Hell.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn11\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref11\">[paragraph 11]<\/a><\/strong> <b>nigh<\/b> \u2013 near<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn12\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref12\">[paragraph 12]<\/a><\/strong> <b>smote<\/b> \u2013 beat; struck<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>aspect<\/b> \u2013 one\u2019s overall look, bearing, or appearance<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn16\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref16\">[paragraph 16]<\/a><\/strong> <b>torpid<\/b> \u2013 slow, stupefied<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn27\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref27\">[paragraph 27]<\/a><\/strong> <b>countenance<\/b> \u2013 facial appearance or expression<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn31\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref31\">[paragraph 31]<\/a><\/strong> <b>traditionary<\/b> \u2013 traditional<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>evoke a fiend<\/b> \u2013 conjure up a demon<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>frame the image of<\/b> \u2013 articulate, describe; understand; give form to; conceive of<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn33\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref33\">[paragraph 33]<\/a><\/strong> <b>tremulous<\/b> \u2013 trembling; nervous, unconfident<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn35\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref35\">[paragraph 35]<\/a><\/strong> <b>purpose<\/b> \u2013 intention<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn38\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref38\">[paragraph 38]<\/a><\/strong> <b>stamp<\/b> \u2013 character, kind<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>recompense<\/b> \u2013 repayment; retribution for wrongdoing<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn40\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref40\">[paragraph 40]<\/a><\/strong> <b>the whole lazy regiment that was wont to infest the village tavern<\/b> \u2013 That is, the group of men who tended to spend their time in the tavern. Ethan Brand\u2019s encounter with these men bears some striking parallels to Proverbs 26. (See Ely Stock, \u201cThe Biblical Context of \u2018Ethan Brand,\u2019\u201d <em>American Literature<\/em>, volume 37, number 2, p. 130.)<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>flip<\/b> \u2013 a drink made with beer, liquor, and sugar, heated with an iron<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn41\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref41\">[paragraph 41]<\/a><\/strong> <b>ubiquitous<\/b> \u2013 present everywhere<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>stage-agent<\/b> \u2013 the manager of a stop (or stage) on a stagecoach<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>specimen of the genus<\/b> \u2013 A genus is a kind or class of things; a specimen is a member of some class. Since rail travel was by 1850 replacing the horse-drawn stagecoach in much of the eastern United States, stage-agents are described as a \u201cgenus\u201d that is \u201calmost extinct,\u201d and the particular stage-agent in the story is a \u201cspecimen\u201d of that genus.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>dry joker<\/b> \u2013 one who tells jokes that are dry (told without the air of humor)<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>brandy-toddy<\/b> \u2013 a drink made with brandy, hot water, and sugar<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>ragamuffin<\/b> \u2013 a man of ragged and disreputable appearance<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>tow-cloth<\/b> \u2013 a coarse cloth made of broken flax or hemp fiber<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>sling<\/b> \u2013 a mixed drink made with any of various liquors, water, and sugar<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>slid into a soap-vat<\/b> \u2013 began the lowly work of making soap<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>averred<\/b> \u2013 affirmed, declared<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn42\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref42\">[paragraph 42]<\/a><\/strong> <b>grumbling thick accents<\/b> \u2013 that is, speaking in a distinctive manner<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn43\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref43\">[paragraph 43]<\/a><\/strong> <b>worthies<\/b> \u2013 esteemed persons<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn49\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref49\">[paragraph 49]<\/a><\/strong> <b>quailed<\/b> \u2013 wavered, shrank in fear<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>Esther<\/b> \u2013 From the Book of Esther in the Old Testament, Esther was the Jewish wife of the Persian king Ahasuerus. She convinced the king to refrain from a plan to slaughter all of the Jews in his empire.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn50\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref50\">[paragraph 50]<\/a><\/strong> <b>hoary<\/b> \u2013 grey-haired with age<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn51\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref51\">[paragraph 51]<\/a><\/strong> <b>old German Jew<\/b> \u2013 Some critics associate this character with the medieval legend of the Wandering Jew, who rejected the divinity of Jesus at the time of the Crucifixion and therefore was cursed to walk the earth without rest until Jesus\u2019 return in the Second Coming. In some later versions of the story of the Wandering Jew, he has been given a name similar to Ahasuerus, the Persian king from the Book of Esther (see the note with paragraph 49, above). Some critics instead associate Hawthorne\u2019s \u201cold German Jew\u201d with the devil. This is especially suggested by the comment that Ethan Brand \u201chad conversed with Satan himself\u201d (in paragraph 31) and that he later tells the Jew \u201cI remember you now\u201d (in paragraph 57). (For a fuller discussion, see Jerry A. Herndon and Sidney P. Moss, \u201cThe Identity and Significance of the German Jewish Showman in Hawthorne\u2019s \u2018Ethan Brand,\u2019\u201d <em>College English<\/em>, volume 23, number 5, pp. 362-363.)<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>diorama<\/b> \u2013 Unlike the small models that students might construct for school projects today, this nineteenth-century kind of diorama was a box into which pictures could be inserted. Users could view the pictures through a hole or holes with glass lenses.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn52\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref52\">[paragraph 52]<\/a><\/strong> <b>Dutchman<\/b> \u2013 Referring to the \u201cold German Jew.\u201d Germans in the United States were often called \u201cDutch,\u201d a term related to <em>Deutsch<\/em>, the word Germans use for themselves.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn54\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref54\">[paragraph 54]<\/a><\/strong> <b>orifices<\/b> \u2013 holes<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>daubings<\/b> \u2013 crude, amateurish paintings or pictures<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>face<\/b> \u2013 effrontery, impudence<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>Nelson\u2019s sea-fights<\/b> \u2013 Horatio Nelson (1758-1805) was a British admiral who defeated the French in the Battle of the Nile in 1798, ending Napoleon\u2019s attempt to conquer Egypt, and crushed French and Spanish naval forces at Trafalgar in 1805, where he was mortally wounded.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>Hand of Destiny<\/b> \u2013 the guidance of God, the Devil, or some other transcendental force that directs history and events<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>illustrations<\/b> \u2013 explanations, stories<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>Titanic<\/b> \u2013 giant-like in size and strength<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn55\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref55\">[paragraph 55]<\/a><\/strong> <b>turning up<\/b> \u2013 bringing into view<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>somewhat<\/b> \u2013 something<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn58\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref58\">[paragraph 58]<\/a><\/strong> <b>Nuremburg<\/b> \u2013 the German city of Nuremberg (which Hawthorne apparently misspelled)<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn60\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref60\">[paragraph 60]<\/a><\/strong> <b>quadruped<\/b> \u2013 a four-footed animal<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>cur<\/b> \u2013 a low-bred dog<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>deportment<\/b> \u2013 composure<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>scraped acquaintance<\/b> \u2013 formed an acquaintance by careful effort and insinuation<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn62\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref62\">[paragraph 62]<\/a><\/strong> <b>darksome<\/b> \u2013 dark and somber<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>verge<\/b> \u2013 an enclosing boundary<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>verdure<\/b> \u2013 the lush greenness of flourishing vegetation<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>timorous<\/b> \u2013 timid, fearful<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn63\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref63\">[paragraph 63]<\/a><\/strong> <b>bade<\/b> \u2013 decreed, ordered<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn67\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref67\">[paragraph 67]<\/a><\/strong> <b>deprecated<\/b> \u2013 prayed against, prayed for deliverance from<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>counterpoise<\/b> \u2013 equilibrium<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>susceptible<\/b> \u2013 capable<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>unlettered<\/b> \u2013 uneducated<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>star-lit eminence<\/b> \u2013 a location so high and prominent that the very stars brighten it; Some editions of the text mistakenly say \u201cstar-light\u201d or \u201cstar-like.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn70\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref70\">[paragraph 70]<\/a><\/strong> <b>alacrity<\/b> \u2013 eagerness, cheerful willingness<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>hillock<\/b> \u2013 a small hill<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><b>multitudinous<\/b> \u2013 manifold; having many forms or features<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn72\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref72\">[paragraph 72]<\/a><\/strong> <b>resolved<\/b> \u2013 dissolved<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn74\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref74\">[paragraph 74]<\/a><\/strong> <b>humbug<\/b> \u2013 sham, hoax<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn75\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref75\">[paragraph 75]<\/a><\/strong> <b>weather-cock<\/b> \u2013 a weathervane in the form of a rooster<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn76\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref76\">[paragraph 76]<\/a><\/strong> <b>echo<\/b> \u2013 Echo was a nymph in ancient Greek and Roman mythology. Her punishment for talkativeness was that she could only repeat the last thing that others said and not initiate speech on her own.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn82\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref82\">[paragraph 82]<\/a><\/strong> <b>attitude<\/b> \u2013 posture of the body; posture of the mind<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span class=\"note\"><strong><a name=\"ftn84\"><\/a><a href=\"#ftnref84\">[paragraph 84]<\/a><\/strong> <b>rude<\/b> \u2013 uncouth, lacking graces and refinement<\/span><\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Bartram the lime-burner, a rough, heavy-looking man, begrimed with charcoal, sat watching his kiln, at nightfall, while his little son played at building houses with the scattered fragments of marble, when, on the hill-side below them, they heard a roar of laughter, not mirthful, but slow, and even solemn, like a wind shaking the boughs of the forest. &nbsp; 1* \u201cFather, what is that?\u201d asked the little boy, leaving his play, and pressing betwixt his father\u2019s knees. &nbsp; 2 \u201cO, some drunken man, I suppose,\u201d answered the lime-burner; \u201csome merry fellow from the bar-room in the village, who dared not&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":14349,"template":"","article_type":[15],"noteworthy_people":[],"topics":[2266,5032],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thenewatlantis.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/article\/10356"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thenewatlantis.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/article"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thenewatlantis.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/article"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thenewatlantis.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.thenewatlantis.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/article\/10356\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thenewatlantis.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/14349"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thenewatlantis.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=10356"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"article_type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thenewatlantis.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/article_type?post=10356"},{"taxonomy":"noteworthy_people","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thenewatlantis.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/noteworthy_people?post=10356"},{"taxonomy":"topics","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thenewatlantis.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/topics?post=10356"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}