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a world…wide name for yourself in the nick…nack trade—now； that’s the truth o’t。”
“I’ll tell you；” said Yeobright。 with unexpected earnestness。 “I am not sorry to have the opportunity。 I’ve e home because； all things considered； I can be a trifle less useless here than anywhere else。 But I have only lately found this out。 When I first got away from home I thought this place was not worth troubling about。 I thought our life here was contemptible。 To oil your boots instead of blacking them； to dust your coat with a switch instead of a brush—was there ever anything more ridiculous？ I said。”
“So ‘tis； so ‘tis！”
“No； no—you are wrong； it isn’t。”
“Beg your pardon； we thought that was your maning？”
“Well； as my views changed my course became very depressing。 I found that I was trying to be like people who had hardly anything in mon with myself。 I was endeavouring to put off one sort of life for another sort of life； which was not better than the life I had known before。 It was simply different。”
“True； a sight different；” said Fairway。
“Yes； Paris must be a taking place；” said Humphrey。
“Grand shop…winders； trumpets； and drums； and here be we
out of doors in all winds and weathers—“
“But you mistake me；” pleaded Clym。 “All this was very depressing。 But not so depressing as something I next perceived—that my business was the idlest； vainest； most effeminate business that ever a man could be put to。 That decided me—I would give it up and try to follow some rational occupation among the people I knew best； and to whom I could be of most use。 I have e home； and this is how I mean to carry out my plan。 I shall keep a school as near to Egdon as possible； so as to be able to walk over here and have a night…school in my mother’s house。 But I must study a little at first； to get properly qualified。 Now； neighbours； I must go。”
And Clym resumed his walk across the heath。
“He’ll never carry it out in the world；” said Fairway。
“In a few weeks he’ll learn to see things otherwise。”
“’Tis good…hearted of the young man；” said another。
“But； for my part； I think he had better mind his business。”
2 … The New Course Causes Disappointment
Yeobright loved his kind。 He had a conviction that the want of most men was knowledge of a sort which brings wisdom rather than affluence。 He wished to raise the class at the expense of individuals rather than individuals at the expense of the class。 What was more； he was ready at once to be the first unit sacrificed。
In passing from the bucolic to the intellectual life the intermediate stages are usually two at least； frequently many more； and one of those stages is almost sure to be worldly advanced。 We can hardly imagine bucolic placidity quickening to intellectual aims without imagining social aims as the transitional phase。 Yeobright’s local peculiarity was that in striving at high thinking he still cleaved to plain living—nay； wild and meagre living in many respects； and brotherliness with clowns。
He was a John the Baptist who took ennoblement rather than repentance for his text。 Mentally he was in a provincial future； that is； he was in many points abreast with the central town thinkers of his date。 Much of this development he may have owed to his studious life in Paris； where he had bee acquainted with ethical systems popular at the time。
In consequence of this relatively advanced position； Yeobright might have been called unfortunate。 The rural world was not ripe for him。 A man should be only partially before his time—to be pletely to the vanward in aspirations is fatal to fame。 Had Philip’s warlike son been intellectually so far ahead as to have attempted civilization without bloodshed； he would have been twice the godlike hero that he seemed； but nobody would have heard of an Alexander。
In the interests of renown the forwardness should lie chiefly in the capacity to handle things。 Successful propagandists have succeeded because the doctrine they bring into form is that which their listeners have for some time felt without being able to shape。 A man who advocates aesthetic effort and deprecates social effort is only likely to be understood by a class to which social effort has bee a stale matter。 To argue upon the possibility of culture before luxury to the bucolic world may be to argue truly； but it is an attempt to disturb a sequence to which humanity has been long accustomed。 Yeobright preaching to the Egdon eremites that they might rise to a serene prehensiveness without going through the process of enriching themselves was not unlike arguing to ancient Chaldeans that in ascending from earth to the pure empyrean it was not necessary to pass first into the intervening heaven of ether。
Was Yeobright’s mind well…proportioned？ No。 A well proportioned mind is one which shows no particular bias； one of which we may safely say that it will never cause its owner to be confined as a madman； tortured as a heretic； or crucified as a blasphemer。 Also； on the other hand； that it will never cause him to be applauded as a prophet； revered as a priest； or exalted as a king。 Its usual blessings are happiness and mediocrity。 It produces the poetry of Rogers； the paintings of West； the statecraft of North； the spiritual guidance of Tomline； enabling its possessors to find their way to wealth； to wind up well； to step with dignity off the stage； to die fortably in their beds； and to get the decent monument which； in many cases； they deserve。 It never would have allowed Yeobright to do such a ridiculous thing as throw up his business to benefit his fellow…creatures。
He walked along towards home without attending to paths。 If anyone knew the heath well it was Clym。 He was permeated with its scenes； with its substance； and with its odours。 He might be said to be its product。 His eyes had first opened thereon； with its appearance all the first images ； of his memory were mingled； his estimate of life had been coloured by it： his toys had been the flint knives and arrow…heads which he found there； wondering why stones should “grow” to such odd shapes； his flowers； the purple bells and yellow furze： his animal kingdom； the snakes and croppers； his society； its human haunters。 Take all the varying hates felt by Eustacia Vye towards the heath； and translate them into loves； and you have the heart of Clym。 He gazed upon the wide prospect as he walked； and was glad。
To many persons this Egdon was a place which had slipped out of its century generations ago； to intrude as an uncouth object into this。 It was an obsolete thing； and few cared to study it。 How could this be otherwise in the days of square fields； plashed hedges； and meadows watered on a plan so rectangular that on a fine day they looked like silver gridirons？ The farmer； in his ride； who could smile at artificial grasses； look with solicitude at the ing corn； and sigh with sadness at the fly…eaten turnips； bestowed upon the distant upland of heath nothing better than a frown。 But as for Yeobright； when he looked from the heights on his way he could not help indulging in a barbarous satisfaction at observing that； in some of the attempts at reclamation from the waste； tillage； after holding on for a year or two； had receded again in despair； the ferns and furze…tufts stubbornly reasserting themselves。
He descended into the valley； and soon reached his home at Blooms…End。 His mother was snipping dead leaves from the window…plants。 She looked up at him as if she did not understand the meaning of his long stay with her； her face had worn that look for several days。 He could perceive that the curiosity which had been shown by the hair…cutting group amounted in his mother to concern。 But she had asked no question with her lips； even when the arrival of his trunk suggested that he was not going to leave her soon。 Her silence besought an explanation of him more loudly than words。
“I am not going back to Paris again； Mother；” he said。
“At least； in my old capacity。 I have given up the business。”
Mrs。 Yeobright turned in pained surprise。 “I thought something was amiss； because of the boxes。 I wonder you did not tell me sooner。”
“I ought to have done it。 But I have been in doubt whether you would be pleased with my plan。 I was not quite clear on a few points myself。 I am going to take an entirely new course。”
“I am astonished； Clym。 How can you want to do better than you’ve been doing？”
“Very easily。 But I shall not do better in the way you mean； I suppose it will be called doing worse。 But I hate that business of mine； and I want to do some worthy thing before I die。 As a schoolmaster I think to do it—a school…master to the poor and ignorant； to teach them what nobody else will。”
“After all the trouble that has been taken to give you a start； and when there is nothing to do but to keep straight on towards affluence； you say you will be a poor man’s schoolmaster。 Your fancies will be your ruin； Clym。”
Mrs。 Yeobright spoke calmly； but the force of feeling behind the words was but too apparent to one who knew her as well as her son did。 He did not answer。 There was in his face that hopelessness of being understood which es when the objector is constitutionally beyond the reach of a logic that； even under favouring conditions； is almost too coarse a vehicle for the subtlety of the argument。
No more was said on the subject till the end of dinner。 His mother then began； as if there had been no interval since the morning。 “It disturbs me； Clym； to find that you have e home with such thoughts as those。 I hadn’t the least idea that you meant to go backward in the world by your own free choice。 Of course； I have always supposed you were going to push straight on； as other men do—all who deserve the name—when they have been put in a good way of doing well。”
“I cannot help it；” said Clym； in a troubled tone。 “Mother； I hate the flashy business。 Talk about men who deserve the name； can any man deserving the name waste his time in that effeminate way； when he sees half the world going to ruin for want of somebody to buckle to and teach them how to breast the misery they are born to？ I get up every morning and see the whole creation groaning and travailing in pain； as St。 Paul says； and yet there am I； trafficking in glittering splendours with wealthy women and titled libertines； and pandering to the meanest vanities—I； who have health and strength enough for anything。 I have been troubled in my mind about it all the year； and the end is that I cannot do it any more。”
“Why can’t you do it as well as others？”
“I don’t know； except that there are many things other people care for which I don’t； and that’s partly why I think I ought to do this。 For one thing； my body does not require much of me。 I cannot enjoy delicacies； good things are wasted upon me。 Well； I ought to turn that defect to advantage； and by being able to do without what other people require I can spend what such things cost upon anybody else。”
Now； Yeobright； having inherited some of these very instincts from the woman before him； could not fail to awaken a reciprocity in her through her feelings； if not by arguments； disguise it as she might for his good。 She spoke with less assurance。 “And yet you might have been a wealthy man if you had only persevered。 Manager to that large diamond establishment—what better can a man wish for？ What a post of trust and respect！ I suppose you will be like your father； like him； you are getting weary of doing well。”
“No；” said her son； “I am not weary of that； though I am weary of what you mean by it。 Mother； what is doing well？”
Mrs。 Yeobright was far too thoughtful a woman to be content with ready definitions； and； like the “What is wisdom？” of Plato’s Socrates； and the “What is truth？” of Pontius Pilate； Yeobright’s burning question received no answer。
The silence was broken by the clash of the garden gate； a tap at the door； and its opening。 Christian Cantle appeared in the room in his Sunday clothes。
It was the custom on Egdon to begin the preface to a story before absolutely entering the house； so as to be well in for the body of the narrative by the time visitor and visited stood face to face。 Christian had been saying to them while the door was leaving its latch； “To think that I； who go from home but once in a while； and hardly then； should have been there this morning！”
“’Tis news you have brought us； then； Christian？” said Mrs。 Yeobright。
“Ay； sure； about a witch； and ye must overlook my time o’ day； for； says I； ‘I must go and tell ‘em； though they won’t have half done dinner。’ I assure ye it made me shake like a driven leaf。 Do ye think any harm will e o’t？”
“Well—what？”
“This morning at church we was all standing up； and the pa’son said； ‘Let us pray。’ ‘Well；’ thinks I； ‘one may as well kneel as stand’； so down I went； and； more than that； all the rest were as willing to oblige the man as I。 We hadn’t been hard at it for more than a minute when a most terrible screech sounded through church； as if somebody had just gied up their heart’s blood。 All the folk jumped up and then we found that Susan Nunsuch had pricked Miss Vye with a long stoc