Young Goodman Brown and Battle Royal - A Critical Comparison
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The definitive source for composition and introduction to literature courses With an emphasis on critical thinking and argument, Literature for Composition offers superior coverage of reading, writing, and arguing about literature along with an anthology organized around eight thought-provoking themes. What is Critical Thinking about Literature? A Crash Course 3.
The Destructors and the Young Goodman Brown Comparison Essay
The Writer as Reader 4. The Reader as Writer 5. Close Reading: Paraphrase, Summary, and Explication 7. Analysis: Inquiry, Interpretation and Argument 8. Comparison and Synthesis Reading and Writing about Essays Reading and Writing about Stories Reading and Writing about Graphic Fiction Reading and Writing about Plays Reading and Writing about Poems IV. The World Around Us Technology and Human Identity Love and Hate, Men and Women Innocence and Experience American Dreams and Nightmares Law and Disorder Much as he had accomplished, she could not but observe that his most splendid successes were almost invariably failures, if compared with the ideal at which he aimed.
His brightest diamonds were the merest pebbles, and felt to be so by himself, in comparison with the inestimable gems which lay hidden beyond his reach. The volume, rich with achievements that had won renown for its author, was yet as melancholy a record as ever mortal hand had penned.
It was the sad confession and continual exemplification of the shortcomings of the composite man, the spirit burdened with clay and working in matter, and of the despair that assails the higher nature at finding itself so miserably thwarted by the earthly part. Perhaps every man of genius in whatever sphere might recognize the image of his own experience in Aylmer's journal.
So deeply did these reflections affect Georgiana that she laid her face upon the open volume and burst into tears. In this situation she was found by her husband. Take heed lest it prove as detrimental to you. I shall deem myself hardly unworthy of it.
MOSSES FROM AN OLD MANSE AND OTHER STORIES
But come, I have sought you for the luxury of your voice. Sing to me, dearest. So she poured out the liquid music of her voice to quench the thirst of his spirit. He then took his leave with a boyish exuberance of gayety, assuring her that her seclusion would endure but a little longer, and that the result was already certain.
Scarcely had he departed when Georgiana felt irresistibly impelled to follow him.
She had forgotten to inform Aylmer of a symptom which for two or three hours past had begun to excite her attention. It was a sensation in the fatal birthmark, not painful, but which induced a restlessness throughout her system. Hastening after her husband, she intruded for the first time into the laboratory. The first thing that struck her eye was the furnace, that hot and feverish worker, with the intense glow of its fire, which by the quantities of soot clustered above it seemed to have been burning for ages.
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There was a distilling apparatus in full operation. Around the room were retorts, tubes, cylinders, crucibles, and other apparatus of chemical research. An electrical machine stood ready for immediate use.
The atmosphere felt oppressively close, and was tainted with gaseous odors which had been tormented forth by the processes of science. The severe and homely simplicity of the apartment, with its naked walls and brick pavement, looked strange, accustomed as Georgiana had become to the fantastic elegance of her boudoir. But what chiefly, indeed almost solely, drew her attention, was the aspect of Aylmer himself. He was pale as death, anxious and absorbed, and hung over the furnace as if it depended upon his utmost watchfulness whether the liquid which it was distilling should be the draught of immortal happiness or misery.
How different from the sanguine and joyous mien that he had assumed for Georgiana's encouragement! Aylmer raised his eyes hastily, and at first reddened, then grew paler than ever, on beholding Georgiana. He rushed towards her and seized her arm with a gripe that left the print of his fingers upon it. Have you no trust in your husband? It is not well done. Go, prying woman, go! You mistrust your wife; you have concealed the anxiety with which you watch the development of this experiment.
Think not so unworthily of me, my husband. Tell me all the risk we run, and fear not that I shall shrink; for my share in it is far less than your own. Nothing shall be concealed. Know, then, that this crimson hand, superficial as it seems, has clutched its grasp into your being with a strength of which I had no previous conception.
I have already administered agents powerful enough to do aught except to change your entire physical system. Only one thing remains to be tried. If that fail us we are ruined. There is but one danger—that this horrible stigma shall be left upon my cheek! In a little while all will be tested. He conducted her back and took leave of her with a solemn tenderness which spoke far more than his words how much was now at stake.
After his departure Georgiana became rapt in musings. She considered the character of Aylmer, and did it completer justice than at any previous moment. Her heart exulted, while it trembled, at his honorable love—so pure and lofty that it would accept nothing less than perfection nor miserably make itself contented with an earthlier nature than he had dreamed of.
She felt how much more precious was such a sentiment than that meaner kind which would have borne with the imperfection for her sake, and have been guilty of treason to holy love by degrading its perfect idea to the level of the actual; and with her whole spirit she prayed that, for a single moment, she might satisfy his highest and deepest conception. Longer than one moment she well knew it could not be; for his spirit was ever on the march, ever ascending, and each instant required something that was beyond the scope of the instant before. The sound of her husband's footsteps aroused her.
He bore a crystal goblet containing a liquor colorless as water, but bright enough to be the draught of immortality. Aylmer was pale; but it seemed rather the consequence of a highly-wrought state of mind and tension of spirit than of fear or doubt. Life is but a sad possession to those who have attained precisely the degree of moral advancement at which I stand.
Were I weaker and blinder it might be happiness. Were I stronger, it might be endured hopefully. But, being what I find myself, methinks I am of all mortals the most fit to die. The draught cannot fail. Behold its effect upon this plant. On the window seat there stood a geranium diseased with yellow blotches, which had overspread all its leaves.
Aylmer poured a small quantity of the liquid upon the soil in which it grew.
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In a little time, when the roots of the plant had taken up the moisture, the unsightly blotches began to be extinguished in a living verdure. Thy sensible frame, too, shall soon be all perfect. It allays a feverish thirst that had parched me for many days. Now, dearest, let me sleep.
Essay on Nathaniel Hawthorne. Research Paper on Young Goodman Brown's Faith
My earthly senses are closing over my spirit like the leaves around the heart of a rose at sunset. She spoke the last words with a gentle reluctance, as if it required almost more energy than she could command to pronounce the faint and lingering syllables. Scarcely had they loitered through her lips ere she was lost in slumber.
Aylmer sat by her side, watching her aspect with the emotions proper to a man the whole value of whose existence was involved in the process now to be tested. Mingled with this mood, however, was the philosophic investigation characteristic of the man of science. Not the minutest symptom escaped him.
A heightened flush of the cheek, a slight irregularity of breath, a quiver of the eyelid, a hardly perceptible tremor through the frame,—such were the details which, as the moments passed, he wrote down in his folio volume.