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The Way We Live Now
Anthony Trollope
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The Way We Live Now
Anthony Trollope
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About This Book
Augustus Melmotte is a foreign-born financier with a mysterious past. When he moves his business and his family to London, the city's upper crust begins buzzing with rumors about him, and a host of characters ultimately find their lives changed because of him. He sets out to woo rich and powerful investors by hosting a lavish party. Whilst Melmotte is carrying out his financial shenanigans, Paul Montague is the one person who is a thorn in his side.
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Topic
LetteraturaSubtopic
ClassiciJohn Crumb
Sir Felix Carbury made an appointment for meeting Ruby Ruggles a second time at the bottom of the kitchen-garden belonging to Sheepâs Acre farm, which appointment he neglected, and had, indeed, made without any intention of keeping it. But Ruby was there, and remained hanging about among the cabbages till her grandfather returned from Harlestone market. An early hour had been named; but hours may be mistaken, and Ruby had thought that a fine gentleman, such as was her lover, used to live among fine people up in London, might well mistake the afternoon for the morning. If he would come at all she could easily forgive such a mistake. But he did not come, and late in the afternoon she was obliged to obey her grandfatherâs summons as he called her into the house.
After that for three weeks she heard nothing of her London lover, but she was always thinking of him;âand though she could not altogether avoid her country lover, she was in his company as little as possible. One afternoon her grandfather returned from Bungay and told her that her country lover was coming to see her. âJohn Crumb be a coming over by-and-by,â said the old man. âSee and have a bit oâ supper ready for him.â
âJohn Crumb coming here, grandfather? Heâs welcome to stay away then, for me.â
âThat be dommed.â The old man thrust his old hat on to his head and seated himself in a wooden arm-chair that stood by the kitchen-fire. Whenever he was angry he put on his hat, and the custom was well understood by Ruby. âWhy not welcome, and he all one as your husband? Look ye here, Ruby, Iâm going to have an eend oâ this. John Crumb is to marry you next month, and the banns is to be said.â
âThe parson may say what he pleases, grandfather. I canât stop his saying of âem. It isnât likely I shall try, neither. But no parson among âem all can marry me without Iâm willing.â
âAnd why should you no be willing, you contrairy young jade, you?â
âYouâve been aâdrinking, grandfather.â
He turned round at her sharp, and threw his old hat at her head;â nothing to Rubyâs consternation, as it was a practice to which she was well accustomed. She picked it up, and returned it to him with a cool indifference which was intended to exasperate him. âLook ye here, Ruby,â he said, âout oâ this place you go. If you go as John Crumbâs wife youâll go with five hunâerd pound, and weâll have a dinner here, and a dance, and all Bungay.â
âWho cares for all Bungay,âa set of beery chaps as knows nothing but swilling and smoking;âand John Crumb the main of âem all? There never was a chap for beer like John Crumb.â
âNever saw him the worse oâ liquor in all my life.â And the old farmer, as he gave this grand assurance, rattled his fist down upon the table.
âIt ony just makes him stoopider and stoopider the more he swills. You canât tell me, grandfather, about John Crumb, I knows him.â
âDidnât ye say as how yeâd have him? Didnât ye give him a promise?â
âIf I did, I ainât the first girl as has gone back of her word,âand I shanât be the last.â
âYou means you wonât have him?â
âThatâs about it, grandfather.â
âThen youâll have to have somebody to fend for ye, and that pretty sharp,âfor you wonât have me.â
âThere ainât no difficulty about that, grandfather.â
âVery well. Heâs a coming here to-night, and you may settle it along wiâ him. Out oâ this ye shall go. I know of your doings.â
âWhat doings! You donât know of no doings. There ainât no doings. You donât know nothing agâin me.â
âHeâs a coming here to-night, and if you can make it up wiâ him, well and good. Thereâs five hunâerd pound, and ye shall have the dinner and dance and all Bungay. He ainât a going to be put off no longer;âhe ainât.â
âWhoever wanted him to be put on? Let him go his own gait.â
âIf you canât make it up wiâ himââ
âWell, grandfather, I shanât anyways.â
âLet me have my say, will ye, yer jade, you? Thereâs five hunâerd pound! and there ainât ere a farmer in Suffolk or Norfolk paying rent for a bit of land like this can do as well for his darter as that,âlet alone only a granddarter. You never thinks oâ that;âyou donât. If you donât like to take it,âleave it. But youâll leave Sheepâs Acre too.â
âBother Sheepâs Acre. Who wants to stop at Sheepâs Acre? Itâs the stoopidest place in all England.â
âThen find another. Then find another. Thatâs all aboot it. John Crumbâs a coming up for a bit oâ supper. You tell him your own mind. Iâm dommed if I trouble aboot it. Onây you donât stay here. Sheepâs Acre ainât good enough for you, and youâd best find another home. Stoopid, is it? Youâll have to put up wiâ places stoopider nor Sheepâs Acre, afore youâve done.â
In regard to the hospitality promised to Mr Crumb, Miss Ruggles went about her work with sufficient alacrity. She was quite willing that the young man should have a supper, and she did understand that, so far as the preparation of the supper went, she owed her service to her grandfather. She therefore went to work herself, and gave directions to the servant girl who assisted her in keeping her grandfatherâs house. But as she did this, she determined that she would make John Crumb understand that she would never be his wife. Upon that she was now fully resolved. As she went about the kitchen, taking down the ham and cutting the slices that were to be broiled, and as she trussed the fowl that was to be boiled for John Crumb, she made mental comparisons between him and Sir Felix Carbury. She could see, as though present to her at the moment, the mealy, floury head of the one, with hair stiff with perennial dust from his sacks, and the sweet glossy dark well-combed locks of the other, so bright, so seductive, that she was ever longing to twine her fingers among them. And she remembered the heavy, flat, broad honest face of the mealman, with his mouth slow in motion, and his broad nose looking like a huge white promontory, and his great staring eyes, from the corners of which he was always extracting meal and grit;âand then also she remembered the white teeth, the beautiful soft lips, the perfect eyebrows, and the rich complexion of her London lover. Surely a lease of Paradise with the one, though but for one short year, would be well purchased at the price of a life with the other! âItâs no good going against love,â she said to herself, âand I wonât try. He shall have his supper, and be told all about it, and then go home. He cares more for his supper than he do for me.â And then, with this final resolution firmly made, she popped the fowl into the pot. Her grandfather wanted her to leave Sheepâs Acre. Very well. She had a little money of her own, and would take herself off to London. She knew what people would say, but she cared nothing for old womenâs tales. She would know how to take care of herself, and could always say in her own defence that her grandfather had turned her out of Sheepâs Acre.
Seven had been the hour named, and punctually at that hour John Crumb knocked at the back door of Sheepâs Acre farm-house. Nor did he come alone. He was accompanied by his friend Joe Mixet, the baker of Bungay, who, as all Bungay knew, was to be his best man at his marriage. John Crumbâs character was not without any fine attributes. He could earn money,âand having earned it could spend and keep it in fair proportion. He was afraid of no work, and,âto give him his due,â was afraid of no man. He was honest, and ashamed of nothing that he did. And after his fashion he had chivalrous ideas about women. He was willing to thrash any man that ill-used a woman, and would certainly be a most dangerous antagonist to any man who would misuse a woman belonging to him. But Ruby had told the truth of him in saying that he was slow of speech, and what the world calls stupid in regard to all forms of expression. He knew good meal from bad as well as any man, and the price at which he could buy it so as to leave himself a fair profit at the selling. He knew the value of a clear conscience, and without much argument had discovered for himself that honesty is in truth the best policy. Joe Mixet, who was dapper of person and glib of tongue, had often declared that any one buying John Crumb for a fool would lose his money. Joe Mixet was probably right; but there had been a want of prudence, a lack of worldly sagacity, in the way in which Crumb had allowed his proposed marriage with Ruby Ruggles to become a source of gossip to all Bungay. His love was now an old affair; and, though he never talked much, whenever he did talk, he talked about that. He was proud of Rubyâs beauty, and of her fortune, and of his own status as her acknowledged lover,âand he did not hide his light under a bushel. Perhaps the publicity so produced had some effect in prejudicing Ruby against the man whose offer she had certainly once accepted. Now when he came to settle the day,âhaving heard more than once or twice that there was a difficulty with Ruby,âhe brought his friend Mixet with him as though to be present at his triumph. âIf here isnât Joe Mixet,â said Ruby to herself. âWas there ever such a stoopid as John Crumb? Thereâs no end to his being stoopid.â
The old man had slept off his anger and his beer while Ruby had been preparing the feast, and now roused himself to entertain his guests. âWhat, Joe Mixet; is that thou? Thouârt welcome. Come in, man. Well, John, how is it wiâ you? Rubyâs stewing oâ something for us to eat a bit. Donât eâ smell it?ââJohn Crumb lifted up his great nose, sniffed and grinned.
âJohn didnât like going home in the dark like,â said the baker, with his little joke. âSo I just come along to drive away the bogies.â
âThe more the merrier;âthe more the merrier. Rubyâll have enough for the two oâ you, Iâll go bail. So John Crumbâs afraid of bogies;âis he? The more need he to have some âun in his house to scart âem away.â
The lover had seated himself without speaking a word; but now he was instigated to ask a question. âWhere be she, Muster Ruggles?â They were seated in the outside or front kitchen, in which the old man and his granddaughter always lived; while Ruby was at work in the back kitchen. As John Crumb asked this question she could be heard distinctly among the pots and the plates. She now came out, and wiping her hands on her apron, shook hands with the two young men. She had enveloped herself in a big household apron when the cooking was in hand, and had not cared to take it off for the greeting of this lover. âGrandfather said as how you was a coming out for your supper, so Iâve been a seeing to it. Youâll excuse the apron, Mr Mixet.â
âYou couldnât look nicer, miss, if you was to try ever so. My mother says as itâs housifery as recommends a girl to the young men. What do you say, John?â
âI loiks to see her loik oâ that,â said John rubbing his hands down the back of his trowsers, and stooping till he had brought his eyes down to a level with those of his sweetheart.
âIt looks homely; donât it John?â said Mixet.
âBother!â said Ruby, turning round sharp, and going back to the other kitchen. John Crumb turned round also, and grinned at his friend, and then grinned at the old man.
âYouâve got it all afore you,â said the farmer,âleaving the lover to draw what lesson he might from this oracular proposition.
âAnd I donât care how soon I haâe it in hond;âthat I donât,â said John.
âThatâs the chat,â said Joe Mixet. âThere ainât nothing wanting in his house;âis there, John? Itâs all there,âcradle, caudle-cup, and the rest of it. A young woman going to John knows what sheâll have to eat when she gets up, and what sheâll lie down upon when she goes to bed.â This he declared in a loud voice for the benefit of Ruby in the back kitchen.
âThat she do,â said John, grinning again. âThereâs a hunâerd and fifty poond oâ things in my house forbye what mother left behind her.â
After this there was no more conversation till Ruby reappeared with the boiled fowl, and without her apron. She was followed by the girl with a dish of broiled ham and an enormous pyramid of cabbage. Then the old man got up slowly and opening some private little door of which he kept the key in his breeches pocket, drew a jug of ale and placed it on the table. And from a cupboard of which he also kept the key, he brought out a bottle of gin. Everything being thus prepared, the three men sat round the table, John Crumb looking at his chair again and again before he ventured to occupy it. âIf youâll sit yourself down, Iâll give you a bit of something to eat,â said Ruby at last. Then he sank at once into has chair. Ruby cut up the fowl standing, and dispensed the other good things, not even placing a chair for herself at the table,âand apparently not expected to do so, for no one invited her. âIs it to be spirits or ale, Mr Crumb?â she said, when the other two men had helped themselves. He turned round and gave her a look of love that might have softened the heart of an Amazon; but instead of speaking he held up his tumbler, and bobbed his head at the beer jug. Then she filled it to the brim, frothing it in the manner in which he loved to have it frothed. He raised it to his mouth slowly, and poured the liquor in as though to a vat. Then she filled it again. He had been her lover, and she would be as kind to him as she knew how,âshort of love.
There was a good deal of eating done, for more ham came in, and another mountain of cabbage; but very little or nothing was said. John Crumb ate whatever was given to him of the fowl, sedulously picking the bones, and almost swallowing them; and then finished the second dish of ham, and after that the second instalment of cabbage. He did not ask for more beer, but took it as often as Ruby replenished his glass. When the eating was done, Ruby retired into the back kitchen, and there regaled herself with some bone or merry-thought of the fowl, which she had with prudence reserved, sharing her spoils however with the other maiden. This she did standing, and then went to work, cleaning the dishes. The men lit their pipes and smoked in silence, while Ruby went through her domestic duties. So matters went on for half an hour; during which Ruby escaped by the back door, went round into the house, got into her own room, and formed the grand resolution of going to bed. She began her operations in fear and trembling, not being sure that her grandfather would bring the man upstairs to her. As she thought of this she stayed her hand, and looked to the door. She knew well that there was no bolt there. It would be terrible to her to be invaded by John Crumb after his fifth or sixth glass of beer. And, she declared to herself, that should he come he would be sure...