Burnham Breaker — Text and Context

The Breaker as a Character

The opening chapter devotes several paragraphs to the physical presence of the coal breaker, describing it as 'many-winged and many-windowed' with 'shaft-towers rise high up toward the clouds and the stars.' This is not mere scene-setting; the breaker is given a life cycle: 'Like human beings, they rise, they flourish, they die and are forgotten.' The narrator insists that former workers 'are proud to have labored there' and 'will speak to you of that time with pleasant memories,' indicating that the building itself holds emotional weight for the community.

This personification of the breaker contrasts with the catalog subject 'Coal mines and mining,' which suggests a focus on the labor process. Instead, the excerpts emphasize the breaker as a landmark and a source of identity. The detailed geography—'just beyond the suburbs of the city as they then were'—anchors the story in a specific, changing landscape. Readers should note how the physical setting is not just a backdrop but a repository of memory and pride.

Legal Maneuvering and Moral Ambiguity

Chapter XIII, 'The Purchase of a Lie,' reveals a courtroom drama that the catalog subjects do not anticipate. Lawyer Sharpman sits 'meditating on his success in the Burnham suit and planning to avert the dangers that still lay in his path.' His scheme involves persuading Ralph that his guardian, Simon Craft, acted with 'purest generosity,' despite evidence to the contrary. Sharpman's internal monologue—'Of what use was it to establish the boy's identity if he could not control the boy's fortune?'—exposes a coldly pragmatic view of justice.

The arrival of a stranger, 'L. Joseph Cheekerton, Philadelphia. "Rhyming Joe,"' introduces a subplot of attempted swindling. The visitor's 'carefully concocted lie' targets 'the sharpest lawyer in Scranton,' suggesting a contest of wits. These elements shift the story from a simple orphan tale to a narrative about legal ethics and the manipulation of truth. The catalog's 'Foundlings -- Juvenile fiction' only hints at the identity dispute; the excerpts show that the legal battle is central.

Moments of Lyricism and Inner Life

Amid the industrial and legal conflicts, the excerpts include a moment of quiet introspection. Ralph hears a hymn: 'O Paradise! O Paradise! Who doth not crave for rest?' The music makes him feel 'all so beautiful! so peaceful! so calm and holy!' and he concludes that 'there was nothing in the whole world now... that he could think to ask for.' This lyrical passage, with its references to 'loyal hearts and true' standing 'ever in the light,' provides a counterpoint to the earlier scenes of ambition and deceit.

The catalog subjects do not prepare readers for this spiritual dimension. The hymn is not merely decorative; it functions as a moment of emotional resolution for Ralph, who seems to find contentment despite his uncertain circumstances. The narrator's description of 'the quiet stars' and 'perfumed air' suggests a Romantic sensibility that values inner peace over external fortune. This section hints that the novel may explore themes of faith and gratitude alongside its plot-driven conflicts.

The excerpts from Burnham Breaker reveal a work that blends industrial realism with legal intrigue and moments of lyrical reflection. Readers should pay attention to how Greene balances the physical world of the coal breaker with the psychological world of his characters, particularly Ralph's evolving understanding of trust and integrity. The catalog subjects accurately identify the setting and the orphan protagonist, but the story's moral complexity and its attention to the nuances of persuasion and belief are equally significant. Approach the novel as a study of how place, law, and personal conviction intersect.

Reading Burnham Breaker — the hymn-singing amid the coal dust, that child so certain of his own story — I found myself drifting to how small creatures keep faith in their place in the world. It made me think of The Adventures of Old Mr. Toad — Themes and Context, where stubbornness is a kind of quiet courage, too.