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and satisfaction that had no relation to any other being。 His life
had reduced itself to the functions of weaving and hoarding；
without any contemplation of an end towards which the functions
tended。 The same sort of process has perhaps been undergone by
wiser men； when they have been cut off from faith and love—only；
instead of a loom and a heap of guineas； they have had some
erudite research； some ingenious project； or some well…knit theory。
Strangely； Marner’s face and figure shrank and bent themselves
into a constant mechanical relation to the objects of his life； so that
he produced the same sort of impression as a handle or a crooked
tube； which has no meaning standing apart。 The prominent eyes
that used to look trusting and dreamy； now looked as if they had
been made to see only one kind of thing that was very small； like
tiny grain； for which they hunted everywhere： and he was so
withered and yellow that； though he was not yet forty； the children
always called him “Old Master Marner”。
Yet even in this stage of withering a little incident happened；
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which showed that the sap of affection was not all gone。 It was one
of his daily tasks to fetch his water from a well a couple of fields
off； and for this purpose； ever since he came to Raveloe； he had
had a brown earthenware pot； which he held as his most precious
utensil among the very few conveniences he had granted himself。
It had been his companion for twelve years； always standing on
the same spot； always lending its handle to him in the early
morning； so that its form had an expression for him of willing
helpfulness； and the impress of its handle on his palm gave a
satisfaction mingled with that of having the fresh clear water。 One
day； as he was returning from the well； he stumbled against the
step of the stile； and his brown pot； falling with force against the
stones that overarched the ditch below him； was broken in three
pieces。 Silas picked up the pieces and carried them home with
grief in his heart。 The brown pot could never be of use to him any
more； but he stuck the bits together and propped the ruin in its old
place for a memorial。
This is the history of Silas Marner； until the fifteenth year after
he came to Raveloe。 The livelong day he sat in his loom； his ear
filled with its monotony； his eyes bent close down on the slow
growth of sameness in the brownish web； his muscles moving with
such even repetition that their pause seemed almost as much a
constraint as the holding of his breath。 But at night came his
revelry： at night he closed his shutters； and made fast his doors；
and drew forth his gold。 Long ago the heap of coins had become
too large for the iron pot to hold them； and he had made for them
two thick leather bags； which wasted no room in their resting…
place； but lent themselves flexibly to every corner。 How the
guineas shone as they came pouring out of the dark leather
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Silas Marner 30
mouths！ The silver bore no large proportion in amount to the gold；
because the long pieces of linen which formed his chief work were
always partly paid for in gold； and out of the silver he supplied his
own bodily wants； choosing always the shillings and sixpences to
spend in this way。 He loved the guineas best； but he would not
change the silver—the crowns and half…crowns that were his own
earnings； begotten by his labour； he loved them all。 He spread
them out in heaps and bathed his hands in them； then he counted
them and set them up in regular piles； and felt their rounded
outline between his thumb and fingers； and thought fondly of the
guineas that were only half earned by the work in his loom； as if
they had been unborn children—thought of the guineas that were
coming slowly through the coming years； through all his life；
which spread far away before him； the end quite hidden by
countless days of weaving。 No wonder his thoughts were still with
his loom and his money when he made his journeys through the
fields and the lanes to fetch and carry home his work； so that his
steps never wandered to the hedge…banks and the lane…side in
search of the once familiar herbs。 These too belonged to the past；
from which his life had shrunk away； like a rivulet that has sunk
far down from the grassy fringe of its old breadth into a little
shivering thread； that cuts a groove for itself in the barren sand。
But about the Christmas of that fifteenth year； a second great
change came over Marner’s life； and his history became blent in a
singular manner with the life of his neighbours。
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Silas Marner 31
Chapter 3
he greatest man in Raveloe was Squire Cass； who lived in
the large red house with the handsome flight of stone
T
steps in front and the high stables behind it； nearly
opposite the church。 He was only one among several landed
parishioners； but he alone was honoured with the title of Squire；
for though Mr。 Osgood’s family was also understood to be of
timeless origin—the Raveloe imagination having never ventured
back to that fearful blank when there were no Osgoods—still； he
merely owned the farm he occupied； whereas Squire Cass had a
tenant or two； who complained of the game to him quite as if he
had been a lord。
It was still that glorious wartime which was felt to be a peculiar
favour of Providence towards the landed interest； and the fall of
prices had not yet come to carry the race of small squires and
yeomen down that road to ruin for which extravagant habits and
bad husbandry were plentifully anointing their wheels。 I am
speaking now in relation to Raveloe and the parishes that
resembled it； for our old…fashioned country life had many different
aspects； as all life must have when it is spread over a various
surface； and breathed on variously by multitudinous currents；
from the winds of heaven to the thoughts of men； which are
forever moving and crossing each other with incalculable results。
Raveloe lay low among the bushy trees and the rutted lanes； aloof
from the currents of industrial energy and Puritan earnestness：
the rich ate and drank freely； accepting gout and apoplexy as
things that ran mysteriously in respectable families； and the poor
thought that the rich were entirely in the right of it to lead a jolly
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Silas Marner 32
life； besides； their feasting caused a multiplication of orts； which
were the heirlooms of the poor。 Betty Jay scented the boiling of
Squire Cass’s hams； but her longing was arrested by the unctuous
liquor in which they were boiled； and when the seasons brought
round the great merry…makings； they were regarded on all hands
as a fine thing for the poor。 For the Raveloe feasts were like the
rounds of beef and the barrels of ale—they were on a large scale；
and lasted a good while； especially in the winter…time。 After ladies
had packed up their best gowns and topknots in bandboxes； and
had incurred the risk of fording streams on pillions with the
precious bur