Adam Bede , livre ebook

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335 pages

English

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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

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Publié par	Pub One Info
Date de parution	27 septembre 2010
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9782819922247
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0100€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Book One
Chapter I
The Workshop
With a single drop of ink for a mirror, the Egyptian sorcererundertakes to reveal to any chance comer far–reaching visions ofthe past. This is what I undertake to do for you, reader. With thisdrop of ink at the end of my pen, I will show you the roomyworkshop of Mr. Jonathan Burge, carpenter and builder, in thevillage of Hayslope, as it appeared on the eighteenth of June, inthe year of our Lord 1799.
The afternoon sun was warm on the five workmen there, busy upondoors and window–frames and wainscoting. A scent of pine–wood froma tentlike pile of planks outside the open door mingled itself withthe scent of the elder–bushes which were spreading their summersnow close to the open window opposite; the slanting sunbeams shonethrough the transparent shavings that flew before the steady plane,and lit up the fine grain of the oak panelling which stood proppedagainst the wall. On a heap of those soft shavings a rough, greyshepherd dog had made himself a pleasant bed, and was lying withhis nose between his fore–paws, occasionally wrinkling his brows tocast a glance at the tallest of the five workmen, who was carving ashield in the centre of a wooden mantelpiece. It was to thisworkman that the strong barytone belonged which was heard above thesound 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 moreconcentrated attention, and the sonorous voice subsided into a lowwhistle; 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 broadchest 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 drewhimself up to take a more distant survey of his work, he had theair of a soldier standing at ease. The sleeve rolled up above theelbow showed an arm that was likely to win the prize for feats ofstrength; yet the long supple hand, with its broad finger–tips,looked ready for works of skill. In his tall stalwartness Adam Bedewas a Saxon, and justified his name; but the jet–black hair, madethe more noticeable by its contrast with the light paper cap, andthe keen glance of the dark eyes that shone from under stronglymarked, prominent and mobile eyebrows, indicated a mixture ofCeltic blood. The face was large and roughly hewn, and when inrepose had no other beauty than such as belongs to an expression ofgood–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 samehue of hair and complexion; but the strength of the family likenessseems only to render more conspicuous the remarkable difference ofexpression both in form and face. Seth's broad shoulders have aslight stoop; his eyes are grey; his eyebrows have less prominenceand more repose than his brother's; and his glance, instead ofbeing keen, is confiding and benign. He has thrown off his papercap, and you see that his hair is not thick and straight, likeAdam's, but thin and wavy, allowing you to discern the exactcontour of a coronal arch that predominates very decidedly over thebrow.
The idle tramps always felt sure they could get a copper fromSeth; they scarcely ever spoke to Adam.
The concert of the tools and Adam's voice was at last broken bySeth, who, lifting the door at which he had been working intently,placed it against the wall, and said, "There! I've finished my doorto–day, anyhow."
The workmen all looked up; Jim Salt, a burly, red–haired manknown as Sandy Jim, paused from his planing, and Adam said to Seth,with a sharp glance of surprise, "What! Dost think thee'st finishedthe door?"
"Aye, sure," said Seth, with answering surprise; "what'sawanting to't?"
A loud roar of laughter from the other three workmen made Sethlook round confusedly. Adam did not join in the laughter, but therewas a slight smile on his face as he said, in a gentler tone thanbefore, "Why, thee'st forgot the panels."
The laughter burst out afresh as Seth clapped his hands to hishead, and coloured over brow and crown.
"Hoorray!" shouted a small lithe fellow called Wiry Ben, runningforward and seizing the door. "We'll hang up th' door at fur end o'th' shop an' write on't 'Seth Bede, the Methody, his work.' Here,Jim, lend's hould o' th' red pot."
"Nonsense!" said Adam. "Let it alone, Ben Cranage. You'll mayhapbe making such a slip yourself some day; you'll laugh o' th' otherside o' your mouth then."
"Catch me at it, Adam. It'll be a good while afore my head'sfull o' th' Methodies," said Ben.
"Nay, but it's often full o' drink, and that's worse."
Ben, however, had now got the "red pot" in his hand, and wasabout to begin writing his inscription, making, by way ofpreliminary, an imaginary S in the air.
"Let it alone, will you?" Adam called out, laying down histools, striding up to Ben, and seizing his right shoulder. "Let italone, or I'll shake the soul out o' your body."
Ben shook in Adam's iron grasp, but, like a plucky small man ashe was, he didn't mean to give in. With his left hand he snatchedthe brush from his powerless right, and made a movement as if hewould perform the feat of writing with his left. In a moment Adamturned him round, seized his other shoulder, and, pushing himalong, pinned him against the wall. But now Seth spoke.
"Let be, Addy, let be. Ben will be joking. Why, he's i' theright to laugh at me—I canna help laughing at myself."
"I shan't loose him till he promises to let the door alone,"said Adam.
"Come, Ben, lad," said Seth, in a persuasive tone, "don't let'shave a quarrel about it. You know Adam will have his way. You may'swell try to turn a waggon in a narrow lane. Say you'll leave thedoor alone, and make an end on't."
"I binna frighted at Adam," said Ben, "but I donna mind sayin'as I'll let 't alone at your askin', Seth."
"Come, that's wise of you, Ben," said Adam, laughing andrelaxing his grasp.
They all returned to their work now; but Wiry Ben, having hadthe worst in the bodily contest, was bent on retrieving thathumiliation by a success in sarcasm.
"Which was ye thinkin' on, Seth," he began—"the pretty parson'sface or her sarmunt, when ye forgot the panels?"
"Come and hear her, Ben," said Seth, good–humouredly; "she'sgoing to preach on the Green to–night; happen ye'd get something tothink on yourself then, instead o' those wicked songs you're sofond on. Ye might get religion, and that 'ud be the best day'searnings y' ever made."
"All i' good time for that, Seth; I'll think about that when I'ma–goin' to settle i' life; bachelors doesn't want such heavyearnin's. Happen I shall do the coortin' an' the religion bothtogether, as YE do, Seth; but ye wouldna ha' me get converted an'chop in atween ye an' the pretty preacher, an' carry her aff?"
"No fear o' that, Ben; she's neither for you nor for me to win,I doubt. Only you come and hear her, and you won't speak lightly onher again."
"Well, I'm half a mind t' ha' a look at her to–night, if thereisn't good company at th' Holly Bush. What'll she take for hertext? Happen ye can tell me, Seth, if so be as I shouldna come upi' time for't. Will't be—what come ye out for to see? A prophetess?Yea, I say unto you, and more than a prophetess—a uncommon prettyyoung woman."
"Come, Ben," said Adam, rather sternly, "you let the words o'the Bible alone; you're going too far now."
"What! Are YE a–turnin' roun', Adam? I thought ye war dead againth' women preachin', a while agoo?"
"Nay, I'm not turnin' noway. I said nought about the womenpreachin'. I said, You let the Bible alone: you've got a jest–book,han't you, as you're rare and proud on? Keep your dirty fingers tothat."
"Why, y' are gettin' as big a saint as Seth. Y' are goin' to th'preachin' to–night, I should think. Ye'll do finely t' lead thesingin'. But I don' know what Parson Irwine 'ull say at his gran'favright Adam Bede a–turnin' Methody."
"Never do you bother yourself about me, Ben. I'm not a–going toturn Methodist any more nor you are—though it's like enough you'llturn to something worse. Mester Irwine's got more sense nor tomeddle wi' people's doing as they like in religion. That's betweenthemselves and God, as he's said to me many a time."
"Aye, aye; but he's none so fond o' your dissenters, for allthat."
"Maybe; I'm none so fond o' Josh Tod's thick ale, but I don'thinder you from making a fool o' yourself wi't."
There was a laugh at this thrust of Adam's, but Seth said, veryseriously. "Nay, nay, Addy, thee mustna say as anybody's religion'slike thick ale. Thee dostna believe but what the dissenters and theMethodists have got the root o' the matter as well as the churchfolks."
"Nay, Seth, lad; I'm not for laughing at no man's religion. Let'em follow their consciences, that's all. Only I think it 'ud bebetter if their consciences 'ud let 'em stay quiet i' thechurch—there's a deal to be learnt there. And there's such a thingas being oversperitial; we must have something beside Gospel i'this world. Look at the canals, an' th' aqueduc's, an' th' coal–pitengines, and Arkwright's mills there at Cromford; a man must learnsummat beside Gospel to make them things, I reckon. But t' hearsome o' them preachers, you'd think as a man must be doing nothingall's life but shutting's eyes and looking what's agoing on insidehim. I know a man must have the love o' God in his soul, and theBible's God's word. But what does the Bible say? Why, it says asGod put his sperrit into the workman as built the tabernacle, tomake him do all the carved work and things as wanted a nice hand.And this is my way o' looking at it: there's the sperrit o' God inall things and all times—weekday as well as Sunday—and i' the greatworks and inventions, and i' the figuring and the mechanics. AndGod helps us with our headpieces and our hands as well as with ourso