Adam Bede

  Chapter XIX

  Adam on a Working Day

  NOTWITHSTANDING Mr. Craig's prophecy, the dark-blue cloud disperseditself without having produced the threatened consequences. "Theweather"--as he observed the next morning--"the weather, you see, 'sa ticklish thing, an' a fool 'ull hit on't sometimes when a wise manmisses; that's why the almanecks get so much credit. It's one o' themchancy things as fools thrive on."

  This unreasonable behaviour of the weather, however, could displease noone else in Hayslope besides Mr. Craig. All hands were to be out inthe meadows this morning as soon as the dew had risen; the wives anddaughters did double work in every farmhouse, that the maids might givetheir help in tossing the hay; and when Adam was marching along thelanes, with his basket of tools over his shoulder, he caught the soundof jocose talk and ringing laughter from behind the hedges. The jocosetalk of hay-makers is best at a distance; like those clumsy bells roundthe cows' necks, it has rather a coarse sound when it comes close,and may even grate on your ears painfully; but heard from far off, itmingles very prettily with the other joyous sounds of nature. Men'smuscles move better when their souls are making merry music, thoughtheir merriment is of a poor blundering sort, not at all like themerriment of birds.

  And perhaps there is no time in a summer's day more cheering than whenthe warmth of the sun is just beginning to triumph over the freshnessof the morning--when there is just a lingering hint of early coolnessto keep off languor under the delicious influence of warmth. The reasonAdam was walking along the lanes at this time was because his work forthe rest of the day lay at a country-house about three miles off, whichwas being put in repair for the son of a neighbouring squire; and hehad been busy since early morning with the packing of panels, doors,and chimney-pieces, in a waggon which was now gone on before him, whileJonathan Burge himself had ridden to the spot on horseback, to await itsarrival and direct the workmen.

  This little walk was a rest to Adam, and he was unconsciously underthe charm of the moment. It was summer morning in his heart, and he sawHetty in the sunshine--a sunshine without glare, with slanting raysthat tremble between the delicate shadows of the leaves. He thought,yesterday when he put out his hand to her as they came out of church,that there was a touch of melancholy kindness in her face, such as hehad not seen before, and he took it as a sign that she had some sympathywith his family trouble. Poor fellow! That touch of melancholy came fromquite another source, but how was he to know? We look at the one littlewoman's face we love as we look at the face of our mother earth, and seeall sorts of answers to our own yearnings. It was impossible for Adamnot to feel that what had happened in the last week had brought theprospect of marriage nearer to him. Hitherto he had felt keenly thedanger that some other man might step in and get possession of Hetty'sheart and hand, while he himself was still in a position that made himshrink from asking her to accept him. Even if he had had a strong hopethat she was fond of him--and his hope was far from being strong--hehad been too heavily burdened with other claims to provide a home forhimself and Hetty--a home such as he could expect her to be content withafter the comfort and plenty of the Farm. Like all strong natures, Adamhad confidence in his ability to achieve something in the future; hefelt sure he should some day, if he lived, be able to maintain a familyand make a good broad path for himself; but he had too cool a head notto estimate to the full the obstacles that were to be overcome. And thetime would be so long! And there was Hetty, like a bright-cheeked applehanging over the orchard wall, within sight of everybody, and everybodymust long for her! To be sure, if she loved him very much, she would becontent to wait for him: but DID she love him? His hopes had never risenso high that he had dared to ask her. He was clear-sighted enough to beaware that her uncle and aunt would have looked kindly on his suit, andindeed, without this encouragement he would never have persevered ingoing to the Farm; but it was impossible to come to any but fluctuatingconclusions about Hetty's feelings. She was like a kitten, and had thesame distractingly pretty looks, that meant nothing, for everybody thatcame near her.

  But now he could not help saying to himself that the heaviest part ofhis burden was removed, and that even before the end of another yearhis circumstances might be brought into a shape that would allow him tothink of marrying. It would always be a hard struggle with his mother,he knew: she would be jealous of any wife he might choose, and she hadset her mind especially against Hetty--perhaps for no other reason thanthat she suspected Hetty to be the woman he HAD chosen. It would neverdo, he feared, for his mother to live in the same house with him whenhe was married; and yet how hard she would think it if he asked her toleave him! Yes, there was a great deal of pain to be gone through withhis mother, but it was a case in which he must make her feel that hiswill was strong--it would be better for her in the end. For himself,he would have liked that they should all live together till Seth wasmarried, and they might have built a bit themselves to the old house,and made more room. He did not like "to part wi' th' lad": they hadhardly every been separated for more than a day since they were born.

  But Adam had no sooner caught his imagination leaping forward in thisway--making arrangements for an uncertain future--than he checkedhimself. "A pretty building I'm making, without either bricks ortimber. I'm up i' the garret a'ready, and haven't so much as dug thefoundation." Whenever Adam was strongly convinced of any proposition, ittook the form of a principle in his mind: it was knowledge to be actedon, as much as the knowledge that damp will cause rust. Perhaps here laythe secret of the hardness he had accused himself of: he had toolittle fellow-feeling with the weakness that errs in spite of foreseenconsequences. Without this fellow-feeling, how are we to get enoughpatience and charity towards our stumbling, falling companions in thelong and changeful journey? And there is but one way in which a strongdetermined soul can learn it--by getting his heart-strings boundround the weak and erring, so that he must share not only the outwardconsequence of their error, but their inward suffering. That is a longand hard lesson, and Adam had at present only learned the alphabet of itin his father's sudden death, which, by annihilating in an instant allthat had stimulated his indignation, had sent a sudden rush of thoughtand memory over what had claimed his pity and tenderness.

  But it was Adam's strength, not its correlative hardness, thatinfluenced his meditations this morning. He had long made up his mindthat it would be wrong as well as foolish for him to marry a bloomingyoung girl, so long as he had no other prospect than that of growingpoverty with a growing family. And his savings had been so constantlydrawn upon (besides the terrible sweep of paying for Seth's substitutein the militia) that he had not enough money beforehand to furnish evena small cottage, and keep something in reserve against a rainy day. Hehad good hope that he should be "firmer on his legs" by and by; but hecould not be satisfied with a vague confidence in his arm and brain; hemust have definite plans, and set about them at once. The partnershipwith Jonathan Burge was not to be thought of at present--there werethings implicitly tacked to it that he could not accept; but Adamthought that he and Seth might carry on a little business for themselvesin addition to their journeyman's work, by buying a small stock ofsuperior wood and making articles of household furniture, for which Adamhad no end of contrivances. Seth might gain more by working at separatejobs under Adam's direction than by his journeyman's work, and Adam,in his overhours, could do all the "nice" work that required peculiarskill. The money gained in this way, with the good wages he receivedas foreman, would soon enable them to get beforehand with the world,so sparingly as they would all live now. No sooner had this littleplan shaped itself in his mind than he began to be busy with exactcalculations about the wood to be bought and the particular article offurniture that should be undertaken first--a kitchen cupboard of hisown contrivance, with such an ingenious arrangement of sliding-doors andbolts, such convenient nooks for stowing household provender, and sucha symmetrical result to the eye, that every good housewife would bein raptures with it, and fall through all the gradations of melan
cholylonging till her husband promised to buy it for her. Adam pictured tohimself Mrs. Poyser examining it with her keen eye and trying in vain tofind out a deficiency; and, of course, close to Mrs. Poyser stood Hetty,and Adam was again beguiled from calculations and contrivances intodreams and hopes. Yes, he would go and see her this evening--it was solong since he had been at the Hall Farm. He would have liked to goto the night-school, to see why Bartle Massey had not been at churchyesterday, for he feared his old friend was ill; but, unless he couldmanage both visits, this last must be put off till to-morrow--the desireto be near Hetty and to speak to her again was too strong.

  As he made up his mind to this, he was coming very near to the end ofhis walk, within the sound of the hammers at work on the refitting ofthe old house. The sound of tools to a clever workman who loves his workis like the tentative sounds of the orchestra to the violinist whohas to bear his part in the overture: the strong fibres begin theiraccustomed thrill, and what was a moment before joy, vexation, orambition, begins its change into energy. All passion becomes strengthwhen it has an outlet from the narrow limits of our personal lot in thelabour of our right arm, the cunning of our right hand, or the still,creative activity of our thought. Look at Adam through the rest of theday, as he stands on the scaffolding with the two-feet ruler inhis hand, whistling low while he considers how a difficulty about afloor-joist or a window-frame is to be overcome; or as he pushes one ofthe younger workmen aside and takes his place in upheaving a weight oftimber, saying, "Let alone, lad! Thee'st got too much gristle i' thybones yet"; or as he fixes his keen black eyes on the motions of aworkman on the other side of the room and warns him that his distancesare not right. Look at this broad-shouldered man with the bare musculararms, and the thick, firm, black hair tossed about like troddenmeadow-grass whenever he takes off his paper cap, and with the strongbarytone voice bursting every now and then into loud and solemnpsalm-tunes, as if seeking an outlet for superfluous strength, yetpresently checking himself, apparently crossed by some thought whichjars with the singing. Perhaps, if you had not been already inthe secret, you might not have guessed what sad memories what warmaffection, what tender fluttering hopes, had their home in this athleticbody with the broken finger-nails--in this rough man, who knew no betterlyrics than he could find in the Old and New Version and an occasionalhymn; who knew the smallest possible amount of profane history; and forwhom the motion and shape of the earth, the course of the sun, and thechanges of the seasons lay in the region of mystery just made visible byfragmentary knowledge. It had cost Adam a great deal of trouble andwork in overhours to know what he knew over and above the secrets of hishandicraft, and that acquaintance with mechanics and figures, and thenature of the materials he worked with, which was made easy to him byinborn inherited faculty--to get the mastery of his pen, and write aplain hand, to spell without any other mistakes than must in fairness beattributed to the unreasonable character of orthography rather than toany deficiency in the speller, and, moreover, to learn his musical notesand part-singing. Besides all this, he had read his Bible, includingthe apocryphal books; Poor Richard's Almanac, Taylor's Holy Living andDying, The Pilgrim's Progress, with Bunyan's Life and Holy War, a greatdeal of Bailey's Dictionary, Valentine and Orson, and part of a Historyof Babylon, which Bartle Massey had lent him. He might have had manymore books from Bartle Massey, but he had no time for reading "thecommin print," as Lisbeth called it, so busy as he was with figures inall the leisure moments which he did not fill up with extra carpentry.

  Adam, you perceive, was by no means a marvellous man, nor, properlyspeaking, a genius, yet I will not pretend that his was an ordinarycharacter among workmen; and it would not be at all a safe conclusionthat the next best man you may happen to see with a basket of tools overhis shoulder and a paper cap on his head has the strong conscience andthe strong sense, the blended susceptibility and self-command, of ourfriend Adam. He was not an average man. Yet such men as he are rearedhere and there in every generation of our peasant artisans--with aninheritance of affections nurtured by a simple family life of commonneed and common industry, and an inheritance of faculties trainedin skilful courageous labour: they make their way upwards, rarely asgeniuses, most commonly as painstaking honest men, with the skill andconscience to do well the tasks that lie before them. Their lives haveno discernible echo beyond the neighbourhood where they dwelt, but youare almost sure to find there some good piece of road, some building,some application of mineral produce, some improvement in farmingpractice, some reform of parish abuses, with which their names areassociated by one or two generations after them. Their employers werethe richer for them, the work of their hands has worn well, and the workof their brains has guided well the hands of other men. They went aboutin their youth in flannel or paper caps, in coats black with coal-dustor streaked with lime and red paint; in old age their white hairs areseen in a place of honour at church and at market, and they tell theirwell-dressed sons and daughters, seated round the bright hearth onwinter evenings, how pleased they were when they first earned theirtwopence a-day. Others there are who die poor and never put off theworkman's coat on weekdays. They have not had the art of getting rich,but they are men of trust, and when they die before the work is all outof them, it is as if some main screw had got loose in a machine; themaster who employed them says, "Where shall I find their like?"