by Thomas Hardy
Inside and round about that old woman's "shop" window, with itstwenty-four little panes set in lead-work, the glass of some ofthem oxidized with age, so that you could hardly see the poor pennyarticles exhibited within, and forming part of a stock which a strongman could have carried, Jude had his outer being for some longtideless time. But his dreams were as gigantic as his surroundingswere small.
Through the solid barrier of cold cretaceous upland to the northwardhe was always beholding a gorgeous city--the fancied place he hadlikened to the new Jerusalem, though there was perhaps more of thepainter's imagination and less of the diamond merchant's in hisdreams thereof than in those of the Apocalyptic writer. And the cityacquired a tangibility, a permanence, a hold on his life, mainly fromthe one nucleus of fact that the man for whose knowledge and purposeshe had so much reverence was actually living there; not only so, butliving among the more thoughtful and mentally shining ones therein.
In sad wet seasons, though he knew it must rain at Christminster too,he could hardly believe that it rained so drearily there. Wheneverhe could get away from the confines of the hamlet for an hour or two,which was not often, he would steal off to the Brown House on thehill and strain his eyes persistently; sometimes to be rewarded bythe sight of a dome or spire, at other times by a little smoke, whichin his estimate had some of the mysticism of incense.
Then the day came when it suddenly occurred to him that if heascended to the point of view after dark, or possibly went a mile ortwo further, he would see the night lights of the city. It would benecessary to come back alone, but even that consideration did notdeter him, for he could throw a little manliness into his mood, nodoubt.
The project was duly executed. It was not late when he arrived atthe place of outlook, only just after dusk, but a black north-eastsky, accompanied by a wind from the same quarter, made the occasiondark enough. He was rewarded; but what he saw was not the lamps inrows, as he had half expected. No individual light was visible, onlya halo or glow-fog over-arching the place against the black heavensbehind it, making the light and the city seem distant but a mile orso.
He set himself to wonder on the exact point in the glow where theschoolmaster might be--he who never communicated with anybody atMarygreen now; who was as if dead to them here. In the glow heseemed to see Phillotson promenading at ease, like one of the formsin Nebuchadnezzar's furnace.
He had heard that breezes travelled at the rate of ten miles an hour,and the fact now came into his mind. He parted his lips as he facedthe north-east, and drew in the wind as if it were a sweet liquor.
"You," he said, addressing the breeze caressingly "were inChristminster city between one and two hours ago, floating along thestreets, pulling round the weather-cocks, touching Mr. Phillotson'sface, being breathed by him; and now you are here, breathed byme--you, the very same."
Suddenly there came along this wind something towards him--a messagefrom the place--from some soul residing there, it seemed. Surely itwas the sound of bells, the voice of the city, faint and musical,calling to him, "We are happy here!"
He had become entirely lost to his bodily situation during thismental leap, and only got back to it by a rough recalling. A fewyards below the brow of the hill on which he paused a team of horsesmade its appearance, having reached the place by dint of half anhour's serpentine progress from the bottom of the immense declivity.They had a load of coals behind them--a fuel that could only be gotinto the upland by this particular route. They were accompanied by acarter, a second man, and a boy, who now kicked a large stone behindone of the wheels, and allowed the panting animals to have a longrest, while those in charge took a flagon off the load and indulgedin a drink round.
They were elderly men, and had genial voices. Jude addressed them,inquiring if they had come from Christminster.
"Heaven forbid, with this load!" said they.
"The place I mean is that one yonder." He was getting soromantically attached to Christminster that, like a young loveralluding to his mistress, he felt bashful at mentioning its nameagain. He pointed to the light in the sky--hardly perceptible totheir older eyes.
"Yes. There do seem a spot a bit brighter in the nor'-east thanelsewhere, though I shouldn't ha' noticed it myself, and no doubt itmed be Christminster."
Here a little book of tales which Jude had tucked up under his arm,having brought them to read on his way hither before it grew dark,slipped and fell into the road. The carter eyed him while he pickedit up and straightened the leaves.
"Ah, young man," he observed, "you'd have to get your head screwed ont'other way before you could read what they read there."
"Why?" asked the boy.
"Oh, they never look at anything that folks like we can understand,"the carter continued, by way of passing the time. "On'y foreigntongues used in the days of the Tower of Babel, when no two familiesspoke alike. They read that sort of thing as fast as a night-hawkwill whir. 'Tis all learning there--nothing but learning, exceptreligion. And that's learning too, for I never could understand it.Yes, 'tis a serious-minded place. Not but there's wenches in thestreets o' nights... You know, I suppose, that they raise pa'sonsthere like radishes in a bed? And though it do take--how many years,Bob?--five years to turn a lirruping hobble-de-hoy chap into a solemnpreaching man with no corrupt passions, they'll do it, if it can bedone, and polish un off like the workmen they be, and turn un out wi'a long face, and a long black coat and waistcoat, and a religiouscollar and hat, same as they used to wear in the Scriptures, so thathis own mother wouldn't know un sometimes.... There, 'tis theirbusiness, like anybody else's."
"But how should you know"
"Now don't you interrupt, my boy. Never interrupt your senyers.Move the fore hoss aside, Bobby; here's som'at coming... You mustmind that I be a-talking of the college life. 'Em lives on a loftylevel; there's no gainsaying it, though I myself med not think muchof 'em. As we be here in our bodies on this high ground, so be theyin their minds--noble-minded men enough, no doubt--some on 'em--ableto earn hundreds by thinking out loud. And some on 'em be strongyoung fellows that can earn a'most as much in silver cups. As formusic, there's beautiful music everywhere in Christminster. You medbe religious, or you med not, but you can't help striking in yourhomely note with the rest. And there's a street in the place--themain street--that ha'n't another like it in the world. I shouldthink I did know a little about Christminster!"
By this time the horses had recovered breath and bent to theircollars again. Jude, throwing a last adoring look at the distanthalo, turned and walked beside his remarkably well-informed friend,who had no objection to telling him as they moved on more yet ofthe city--its towers and halls and churches. The waggon turnedinto a cross-road, whereupon Jude thanked the carter warmly for hisinformation, and said he only wished he could talk half as well aboutChristminster as he.
"Well, 'tis oonly what has come in my way," said the carterunboastfully. "I've never been there, no more than you; but I'vepicked up the knowledge here and there, and you be welcome to it.A-getting about the world as I do, and mixing with all classes ofsociety, one can't help hearing of things. A friend o' mine, thatused to clane the boots at the Crozier Hotel in Christminster when hewas in his prime, why, I knowed un as well as my own brother in hislater years."
Jude continued his walk homeward alone, pondering so deeply thathe forgot to feel timid. He suddenly grew older. It had been theyearning of his heart to find something to anchor on, to clingto--for some place which he could call admirable. Should he findthat place in this city if he could get there? Would it be a spot inwhich, without fear of farmers, or hindrance, or ridicule, he couldwatch and wait, and set himself to some mighty undertaking like themen of old of whom he had heard? As the halo had been to his eyeswhen gazing at it a quarter of an hour earlier, so was the spotmentally to him as he pursued his dark way.
"It is a city of light," he said to himself.
"The tree of knowledge grows there," he added a few steps further o
n.
"It is a place that teachers of men spring from and go to."
"It is what you may call a castle, manned by scholarship andreligion."
After this figure he was silent a long while, till he added:
"It would just suit me."
