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The
lineaments
which
will
get
embodied
in
ideals
based
upon
this
new
recognition
will
probably
be
akin
to
those
of
Yeobright
.
The
observer
’
s
eye
was
arrested
,
not
by
his
face
as
a
picture
,
but
by
his
face
as
a
page
;
not
by
what
it
was
,
but
by
what
it
recorded
.
His
features
were
attractive
in
the
light
of
symbols
,
as
sounds
intrinsically
common
become
attractive
in
language
,
and
as
shapes
intrinsically
simple
become
interesting
in
writing
.
He
had
been
a
lad
of
whom
something
was
expected
.
Beyond
this
all
had
been
chaos
.
That
he
would
be
successful
in
an
original
way
,
or
that
he
would
go
to
the
dogs
in
an
original
way
,
seemed
equally
probable
.
The
only
absolute
certainty
about
him
was
that
he
would
not
stand
still
in
the
circumstances
amid
which
he
was
born
.
Hence
,
when
his
name
was
casually
mentioned
by
neighbouring
yeomen
,
the
listener
said
,
“
Ah
,
Clym
Yeobright
—
what
is
he
doing
now
?
”
When
the
instinctive
question
about
a
person
is
,
What
is
he
doing
?
it
is
felt
that
he
will
be
found
to
be
,
like
most
of
us
,
doing
nothing
in
particular
.
There
is
an
indefinite
sense
that
he
must
be
invading
some
region
of
singularity
,
good
or
bad
.
The
devout
hope
is
that
he
is
doing
well
.
The
secret
faith
is
that
he
is
making
a
mess
of
it
.
Half
a
dozen
comfortable
market
-
men
,
who
were
habitual
callers
at
the
Quiet
Woman
as
they
passed
by
in
their
carts
,
were
partial
to
the
topic
.
In
fact
,
though
they
were
not
Egdon
men
,
they
could
hardly
avoid
it
while
they
sucked
their
long
clay
tubes
and
regarded
the
heath
through
the
window
.
Clym
had
been
so
inwoven
with
the
heath
in
his
boyhood
that
hardly
anybody
could
look
upon
it
without
thinking
of
him
.
So
the
subject
recurred
:
if
he
were
making
a
fortune
and
a
name
,
so
much
the
better
for
him
;
if
he
were
making
a
tragical
figure
in
the
world
,
so
much
the
better
for
a
narrative
.
The
fact
was
that
Yeobright
’
s
fame
had
spread
to
an
awkward
extent
before
he
left
home
.
“
It
is
bad
when
your
fame
outruns
your
means
,
”
said
the
Spanish
Jesuit
Gracian
.
At
the
age
of
six
he
had
asked
a
Scripture
riddle
:
“
Who
was
the
first
man
known
to
wear
breeches
?
”
and
applause
had
resounded
from
the
very
verge
of
the
heath
.
At
seven
he
painted
the
Battle
of
Waterloo
with
tiger
-
lily
pollen
and
black
-
currant
juice
,
in
the
absence
of
water
-
colours
.
By
the
time
he
reached
twelve
he
had
in
this
manner
been
heard
of
as
artist
and
scholar
for
at
least
two
miles
round
.
An
individual
whose
fame
spreads
three
or
four
thousand
yards
in
the
time
taken
by
the
fame
of
others
similarly
situated
to
travel
six
or
eight
hundred
,
must
of
necessity
have
something
in
him
.
Possibly
Clym
’
s
fame
,
like
Homer
’
s
,
owed
something
to
the
accidents
of
his
situation
;
nevertheless
famous
he
was
.
He
grew
up
and
was
helped
out
in
life
.
That
waggery
of
fate
which
started
Clive
as
a
writing
clerk
,
Gay
as
a
linen
-
draper
,
Keats
as
a
surgeon
,
and
a
thousand
others
in
a
thousand
other
odd
ways
,
banished
the
wild
and
ascetic
heath
lad
to
a
trade
whose
sole
concern
was
with
the
especial
symbols
of
self
-
indulgence
and
vainglory
.
The
details
of
this
choice
of
a
business
for
him
it
is
not
necessary
to
give
.
At
the
death
of
his
father
a
neighbouring
gentleman
had
kindly
undertaken
to
give
the
boy
a
start
,
and
this
assumed
the
form
of
sending
him
to
Budmouth
.
Yeobright
did
not
wish
to
go
there
,
but
it
was
the
only
feasible
opening
.
Thence
he
went
to
London
;
and
thence
,
shortly
after
,
to
Paris
,
where
he
had
remained
till
now
.
Something
being
expected
of
him
,
he
had
not
been
at
home
many
days
before
a
great
curiosity
as
to
why
he
stayed
on
so
long
began
to
arise
in
the
heath
.
The
natural
term
of
a
holiday
had
passed
,
yet
he
still
remained
.
On
the
Sunday
morning
following
the
week
of
Thomasin
’
s
marriage
a
discussion
on
this
subject
was
in
progress
at
a
hair
-
cutting
before
Fairway
’
s
house
.
Here
the
local
barbering
was
always
done
at
this
hour
on
this
day
,
to
be
followed
by
the
great
Sunday
wash
of
the
inhabitants
at
noon
,
which
in
its
turn
was
followed
by
the
great
Sunday
dressing
an
hour
later
.
On
Egdon
Heath
Sunday
proper
did
not
begin
till
dinner
-
time
,
and
even
then
it
was
a
somewhat
battered
specimen
of
the
day
.
These
Sunday
-
morning
hair
-
cuttings
were
performed
by
Fairway
;
the
victim
sitting
on
a
chopping
-
block
in
front
of
the
house
,
without
a
coat
,
and
the
neighbours
gossiping
around
,
idly
observing
the
locks
of
hair
as
they
rose
upon
the
wind
after
the
snip
,
and
flew
away
out
of
sight
to
the
four
quarters
of
the
heavens
.
Summer
and
winter
the
scene
was
the
same
,
unless
the
wind
were
more
than
usually
blusterous
,
when
the
stool
was
shifted
a
few
feet
round
the
corner
.
To
complain
of
cold
in
sitting
out
of
doors
,
hatless
and
coatless
,
while
Fairway
told
true
stories
between
the
cuts
of
the
scissors
,
would
have
been
to
pronounce
yourself
no
man
at
once
.
To
flinch
,
exclaim
,
or
move
a
muscle
of
the
face
at
the
small
stabs
under
the
ear
received
from
those
instruments
,
or
at
scarifications
of
the
neck
by
the
comb
,
would
have
been
thought
a
gross
breach
of
good
manners
,
considering
that
Fairway
did
it
all
for
nothing
.
A
bleeding
about
the
poll
on
Sunday
afternoons
was
amply
accounted
for
by
the
explanation
.
“
I
have
had
my
hair
cut
,
you
know
.
”
