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Bob obeyed； and Solomon walked in； fiddling as he walked； for
he would on no account break off in the middle of a tune。
“Here； Solomon；” said the Squire； with loud patronage。 “Round
here； my man。 Ah； I knew it was ‘The flaxen…headed ploughboy’：
there’s no finer tune。”
Solomon Macey； a small hale old man； with an abundant crop of
long white hair reaching nearly to his shoulders； advanced to the
indicated spot； bowing reverently while he fiddled； as much as to
say that he respected the company though he respected the
keynote more。 As soon as he had repeated the tune and lowered
his fiddle； he bowed again to the Squire and the Rector； and said；
“I hope I see your honour and your reverence well； and wishing
you health and long life and a happy New Year。 And wishing the
same to you； Mr。 Lammeter； sir； and to the other gentlemen； and
the madams； and the young lasses。”
As Solomon uttered the last words； he bowed in all directions
solicitously； lest he should be wanting in due respect。 But
thereupon he immediately began to prelude； and fell into the tune
which he knew would be taken as a special compliment by Mr。
Lammeter。
“Thank ye； Solomon； thank ye；” said Mr。 Lammeter when the
fiddle paused again。 “That’s ‘Over the hills and far away’； that is。
My father used to say to me； whenever we heard that tune； ‘Ah；
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lad； I come from over the hills and far away’。 There’s a many tunes
I don’t make head or tail of； but that speaks to me like the
blackbird’s whistle。 I suppose it’s the name： there’s a deal in the
name of a tune。”
But Solomon was already impatient to prelude again； and
presently broke with much spirit into ‘Sir Roger de Coverley’； at
which there was a sound of chairs pushed back； and laughing
voices。
“Ay； ay； Solomon； we know what that means；” said the Squire；
rising。 “It’s time to begin the dance； eh？ Lead the way； then； and
we’ll all follow you。”
So Solomon； holding his white head on one side； and playing
vigorously； marched forward at the head of the gay procession into
the White Parlour； where the mistletoe…bough was hung； and
multitudinous tallow candles made rather a brilliant effect；
gleaming from among the berried holly…boughs； and reflected in
the old…fashioned oval mirrors fastened in the panels of the white
wainscot。 A quaint procession！ Old Solomon； in his seedy clothes
and long white locks； seemed to be luring that decent company by
the magic scream of his fiddle—luring discreet matrons in turban…
shaped caps； nay； Mrs。 Crackenthorp herself； the summit of whose
perpendicular feather was on a level with the Squire’s shoulder—
luring fair lasses complacently conscious of very short waists and
skirts blameless of front…folds—luring burly fathers in large
variegated waistcoats； and ruddy sons； for the most part shy and
sheepish； in short nether garments and very long coat…tails。
Already Mr。 Macey and a few other privileged villagers； who
were allowed to be spectators on these great occasions； were
seated on benches placed for them near the door； and great was
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Silas Marner 138
the admiration and satisfaction in that quarter when the couples
had formed themselves for the dance； and the Squire led off with
Mrs。 Crackenthorp； joining hands with the Rector and Mrs。
Osgood。 That was as it should be—that was what everybody had
been used to—and the charter of Raveloe seemed to be renewed
by the ceremony。 It was not thought of as an unbecoming levity for
the old and middle…aged people to dance a little before sitting
down to cards； but rather as part of their social duties。 For what
were these if not to be merry at appropriate times； interchanging
visits and poultry with due frequency； paying each other old…
established compliments in sound traditional phrases； passing
well…tried personal jokes； urging your guests to eat and drink too
much out of hospitality； and eating and drinking too much in your
neighbour’s house to show that you liked your cheer？ And the
parson naturally set an example in these social duties。 For it would
not have been possible for the Raveloe mind； without a peculiar
revelation； to know that a clergyman should be a pale…faced
memento of solemnities； instead of a reasonably faulty man whose
exclusive authority to read prayers and preach； to christen； marry；
and bury you； necessarily co…existed with the right to sell you the
ground to be buried in and to take tithe in kind； on which last
point； of course； there was a little grumbling； but not to the extent
of irreligion—not of deeper significance than the grumbling at the
rain； which was by no means accompanied with a spirit of impious
defiance； but with a desire that the prayer for fine weather might
be read forthwith。
There was no reason； then； why the Rector’s dancing should
not be received as part of the fitness of things quite as much as the
Squire’s； or why； on the other hand； Mr。 Macey’s official respect
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should restrain him from subjecting the parson’s performance to
that criticism with which minds of extraordinary acuteness must
necessarily contemplate the doings of their fallible fellow…men。
“The Squire’s pretty springe； considering his weight；” said Mr。
Macey； “and he stamps uncommon well。 But Mr。 Lammeter beats
’em all for shapes： you see he holds his head like a sodger； and he
isn’t so cushiony as most o’ the oldish gentlefolks—they run fat in
general； and he’s got a fine leg。 The parson’s nimble enough； but
he hasn’t got much of a leg： it’s a bit too thick down’ard； and his
knees might be a bit nearer wi’out damage； but he might do worse；
he might do worse。 Though he hasn’t that grand way o’ waving his
hand as the Squire has。”
“Talk o’ nimbleness； look at Mrs。 Osgood；” said Ben Winthrop；
who was holding his son Aaron between his knees。 “She trips
along with her little steps； so as nobody can see how she goes—it’s
like as if she had little wheels to her feet。 She doesn’t look a day
older nor last year： she’s the finest…made woman as is； let the next
be where she will。”
“I don’t heed how the women are made；” said Mr。 Macey； with
some contempt。 “They wear nayther coat nor breeches： you can’t
make much out o’ their shapes。”
“Fayder；” said Aaron； whose feet were busy beating out the
tune； “how does that big cock’s…feather stick in Mrs。
Crackenthorp’s yead？ Is there a little hole for it； like in my
shuttlecock？”
“Hush； lad； hush； that’s the way the l