Book One

 
  Chapter I The Workshop

    With a single drop
           of ink
         for a mirror,
           the Egyptian sorcerer
            undertakes to reveal
                to any chance comer far-reaching
                               visions
                       of the past.

    This is
         what I undertake
              to do for you,
           reader.

    With this drop of ink
           at the end
               of my pen,
           I will
              show you the roomy workshop
                   of Mr. Jonathan Burge,
         carpenter and builder,
           in the village of Hayslope,
         as it
            appeared on the eighteenth
                   of June,
           in the year
               of our Lord 1799.

    The afternoon sun was
         warm on
               the five workmen there,
           busy upon doors
               and window-frames and wainscoting.

    A scent of pine-wood
           from a tentlike pile
               of planks
           outside the open door
          mingled itself
               with the scent
                   of the elder-bushes
          which were
              spreading their summer
                   snow close
                       to the open window opposite;
        the slanting sunbeams
              shone through the transparent shavings
             that flew
               before the steady plane,
           and lit up the fine
               grain of the oak panelling
              which stood
                  propped against the wall.

    On a heap of
           those soft shavings a rough,
         grey shepherd dog
            had made
                   himself a pleasant bed,
         and was
              lying with his nose
                   between his fore-paws,
           occasionally wrinkling his brows
              to cast a glance
                   at the tallest
                       of the five workmen,
         who was
              carving a shield
                   in the centre
                       of a wooden mantelpiece.

    It was to this workman
         that the strong barytone belonged
              which was
                  heard above the sound
                       of plane
                     and hammer singing
          --

    Awake,
           my soul,
         and with
               the sun Thy daily stage
             of duty run;
        Shake off dull sloth
           ...

    Here some measurement
        was to be taken
          which required more
              concentrated attention,
           and the sonorous voice
            subsided into a low whistle;
        but it presently
            broke out again with
                  renewed vigour
          --

    Let all thy converse
          be sincere,
           Thy conscience
               as the noonday clear.

    Such a voice
        could only
              come from a broad chest,
           and the broad chest
            belonged to a large-boned,
         muscular man nearly
               six feet high,
           with a back so flat
               and a head so well
              poised that
             when he
                drew himself up
                      to take
                           a more distant survey
                         of his work,
         he had the air
               of a soldier
              standing at ease.

    The sleeve
          rolled up above the elbow
               showed an arm
         that was likely
              to win the prize
                   for feats of strength;
        yet the long supple hand,
           with its broad finger-tips,
         looked ready
               for works of skill.

    In his tall
         stalwartness
            Adam Bede
        was a Saxon,
           and justified his name;
        but the jet-black hair,
           made the more noticeable
               by its contrast
                   with the light
               paper cap,
         and the keen glance
               of the dark eyes
             that shone from
                   under strongly marked,
           prominent and mobile eyebrows,
         indicated a mixture
               of Celtic blood.

    The face
        was large and roughly hewn,
           and when in repose
            had no other beauty than
             such as
                belongs to an expression
                       of good-humoured honest intelligence.

    It is clear
           at a glance
         that the next workman
            is Adam's brother.

    He is nearly as tall;
        he has the same type
               of features,
           the same hue of hair
               and complexion;
        but the strength
               of the family likeness
            seems only
                  to render more conspicuous
                       the remarkable difference
                     of expression
                       both in form and face.

    Seth's broad shoulders
          have a slight stoop;
        his eyes are grey;
           his eyebrows
              have less prominence
                   and more repose
                 than his brother's;
        and his glance,
           instead of being keen,
         is confiding and benign.