Treats of Todger's again; and of another blighted plant besides
the plants upon the leads
EARLY ON THE DAY NEXT AFTER that on which she bade adieu to the halls of her
youth and the scenes of her childhood, Miss Pecksniff, arriving safely at the
coach-office in London, was there received, and conducted to her peaceful home
beneath the shadow of the Monument, by Mrs. Todgers. M. Todgers looked a little
worn by cares of gravy and other such solicitudes arising out of her
establishment, but displayed her usual earnestness and warmth of manner.
`And how, my sweet Miss Pecksniff,' said she, `how is your princely pa?'
Miss Pecksniff signified (in confidence) that he contemplated the
introduction of a princely ma; and repeated the sentiment that she wasn't blind,
and wasn't quite a fool, and wouldn't bear it.
Mrs. Todgers was more shocked by the intelligence than any one could have
expected. She was quite bitter. She said there was no truth in man and that the
warmer he expressed himself, as a general principle, the falser and more
treacherous he was. She foresaw with astonishing clearness that the object of
Mr. Pecksniff's attachment was designing, worthless, and wicked; and receiving
from Charity the fullest confirmation of these views, protested with tears in
her eyes that she loved Miss Pecksniff like a sister, and felt her injuries as
if they were her own.
`Your real darling sister, I have not seen her more than once since her
marriage,' said Mrs. Todgers, `and then I thought her looking poorly. My sweet
Miss Pecksniff, I always thought that you was to be the lady?'
`Oh dear no!' cried Cherry, shaking her head. `Oh no, Mrs. Todgers. Thank
you. No! not for any consideration he could offer.'
`I dare say you are right,' said Mrs. Todgers with a sigh. `I feared it all
along. But the misery we have had from that match, here among ourselves, in this
house, my dear Miss Pecksniff, nobody would believe.'
`Lor, Mrs. Todgers!'
`Awful, awful!' repeated Mrs. Todgers, with strong emphasis `You recollect
our youngest gentleman, my dear?'
`Of course I do,' said Cherry.
`You might have observed,' said Mrs. Todgers, `how he used to watch your
sister; and that a kind of stony dumbness came over him whenever she was in
company?'
`I am sure I never saw anything of the sort,' said Cherry, in a peevish
manner. `What nonsense, Mrs. Todgers!'
`My dear,' returned that lady in a hollow voice, `I have seen him again and
again, sitting over his pie at dinner, with his spoon a perfect fixture in his
mouth, looking at your sister. I have seen him standing in a corner of our
drawing-room, gazing at her, in such a lonely, melancholy state, that he was
more like a Pump than a man, and might have drawed tears.'
`I never saw it!' cried Cherry; `that's all I can say.'
`But when the marriage took place,' said Mrs. Todgers, proceeding with her
subject, `when it was in the paper, and was read out here at breakfast, I
thought he had taken leave of his senses, I did indeed. The violence of that
young man, my dear Miss Pecksniff; the frightful opinions he expressed upon the
subject of self-destruction; the extraordinary actions he performed with his
tea; the clenching way in which he bit his bread and butter; the manner in which
he taunted Mr. Jinkins; all combined to form a picture never to be forgotten.'
`It's a pity he didn't destroy himself, I think,' observed Miss Pecksniff.
`Himself!' said Mrs. Todgers, `it took another turn at night. He was for
destroying other people then. There was a little chaffing going on--I hope you
don't consider that a low expression, Miss Pecksniff; it is always in our
gentlemen's mouths--a little chaffing going on, my dear, among 'em, all in good
nature, when suddenly he rose up, foaming with his fury, and but for being held
by three would have had Mr. Jinkins's life with a boot-jack.'
Miss Pecksniff's face expressed supreme indifference.
`And now,' said Mrs. Todgers, `now he is the meekest of men. You can almost
bring the tears into his eyes by looking at him. He sits with me the whole day
long on Sundays, talking in such a dismal way that I find it next to impossible
to keep my spirits up equal to the accommodation of the boarders. His only
comfort is in female society. He takes me half-price to the play, to an extent
which I sometimes fear is beyond his means; and I see the tears a-standing in
his eyes during the whole performance--particularly if it is anything of a comic
nature. The turn I experienced only yesterday,' said Mrs. Todgers putting her
hand to her side, `when the house-maid threw his bedside carpet out of the
window of his room, while I was sitting here, no one can imagine. I thought it
was him, and that he had done it at last!'
The contempt with which Miss Charity received this pathetic account of the
state to which the youngest gentleman in company was reduced, did not say much
for her power of sympathising with that unfortunate character. She treated it
with great levity, and went on to inform herself, then and afterwards, whether
any other changes had occurred in the commercial boarding-house.
Mr. Bailey was gone, and had been succeeded (such is the decay of human
greatness!) by an old woman whose name was reported to be Tamaroo--which seemed
an impossibility. Indeed it appeared in the fulness of time that the jocular
boarders had appropriated the word from an English ballad, in which it is
supposed to express the bold and fiery nature of a certain hackney coachman; and
that it was bestowed upon Mr. Bailey's successor by reason of her having nothing
fiery about her, except an occasional attack of that fire which is called St.
Anthony's. This ancient female had been engaged, in fulfilment of a vow,
registered by Mrs. Todgers, that no more boys should darken the commercial
doors; and she was chiefly remarkable for a total absence of all comprehension
upon every subject whatever. She was a perfect Tomb for messages and small
parcels; and when dispatched to the Post Office with letters, had been
frequently seen endeavouring to insinuate them into casual chinks in private
doors, under the delusion that any door with a hole in it would answer the
purpose. She was a very little old woman, and always wore a very coarse apron
with a bib before and a loop behind, together with bandages on her wrists, which
appeared to be afflicted with an everlasting sprain. She was on all occasions
chary of opening the street-door, and ardent to shut it again; and she waited at
table in a bonnet.
This was the only great change over and above the change which had fallen on
the youngest gentleman. As for him, he more than corroborated the account of
Mrs. Todgers: possessing greater sensibility than even she had given him credit
for. He entertained some terrible notions of Destiny, among other matters, and
talked much about people's `Missions:' upon which he seemed to have some private
information not generally attainable, as he knew it had been poor Merry's
mission to crush him in the bud. He was very frail and tearful; for being aware
that a shepherd's mission was to pipe to his flocks, and that a boatswain's
mission was to pipe all hands, and that one man's mission was to be a paid
piper, and another man's mission was to pay the piper, so he had got it into his
head that his own peculiar mission was to pipe his eye. Which he did
perpetually.
He often informed Mrs. Todgers that the sun had set upon him; that the
billows had rolled over him; that the Car of Juggernaut had crushed him, and
also that the deadly Upas tree of Java had blighted him. His name was Moddle.
Towards this most unhappy Moddle, Miss Pecksniff conducted herself at first
with distant haughtiness, being in no humour to be entertained with dirges in
honour of her married sister. The poor young gentleman was additionally crushed
by this, and remonstrated with Mrs. Todgers on the subject.
`Even she turns from me, Mrs. Todgers,' said Moddle.
`Then why don't you try and be a little bit more cheerful, sir?' retorted
Mrs. Todgers.
`Cheerful, Mrs. Todgers! cheerful!' cried the youngest gentleman; `when she
reminds me of days for ever fled, Mrs. Todgers!'
`Then you had better avoid her for a short time, if she does,' said Mrs
Todgers, `and come to know her again, by degrees. That's my advice.'
`But I can't avoid her,' replied Moddle, `I haven't strength of mind to do
it. Oh, Mrs. Todgers, if you knew what a comfort her nose is to me!'
`Her nose, sir!' Mrs. Todgers cried.
`Her profile, in general,' said the youngest gentleman, `but particularly her
nose. It's so like;' here he yielded to a burst of grief. `it's so like hers who
is Another's, Mrs. Todgers!'
The observant matron did not fail to report this conversation to Charity, who
laughed at the time, but treated Mr. Moddle that very evening with increased
consideration, and presented her side-face to him as much as possible. Mr.
Moddle was not less sentimental than usual; was rather more so, if anything; but
he sat and stared at her with glistening eyes, and seemed grateful.
`Well, sir!' said the lady of the Boarding-House next day. `You held up your
head last night. You're coming round, I think.'
`Only because she's so like her who is Another's, Mrs. Todgers,' rejoined the
youth. `When she talks, and when she smiles, I think I'm looking on HER brow
again, Mrs. Todgers.'
This was likewise carried to Charity, who talked and smiled next evening in
her most engaging manner, and rallying Mr. Moddle on the lowness of his spirits,
challenged him to play a rubber at cribbage. Mr. Moddle taking up the gauntlet,
they played several rubbers for sixpences, and Charity won them all. This may
have been partially attributable to the gallantry of the youngest gentleman, but
it was certainly referable to the state of his feelings also: for his eyes being
frequently dimmed by tears, he thought that aces were tens, and knaves queens,
which at times occasioned some confusion in his play.
On the seventh night of cribbage, when Mrs. Todgers, sitting by, proposed
that instead of gambling they should play for `love,' Mr. Moddle was seen to
change colour. On the fourteenth night, he kissed Miss Pecksniff's snuffers, in
the passage, when she went upstairs to bed: meaning to have kissed her hand, but
missing it.
In short, Mr. Moddle began to be impressed with the idea that Miss
Pecksniff's mission was to comfort him; and Miss Pecksniff began to speculate on
the probability of its being her mission to become ultimately Mrs. Moddle. He
was a young gentleman (Miss Pecksniff was not a very young lady) with rising
prospects, and `almost' enough to live on. Really it looked very well.
Besides, besides, he had been regarded as devoted to Merry. Merry had joked
about him, and had once spoken of it to her sister as a conquest. He was better
looking, better shaped, better spoken, better tempered, better mannered than
Jonas. He was easy to manage, could be made to consult the humours of his
Betrothed, and could be shown off like a lamb when Jonas was a bear. There was
the rub!
In the meantime the cribbage went on, and Mrs. Todgers went off; for the
youngest gentleman, dropping her society, began to take Miss Pecksniff to the
play. He also began, as Mrs. Todgers said, to slip home `in his dinner-times,'
and to get away from `the office' at unholy seasons; and twice, as he informed
Mrs. Todgers himself, he received anonymous letters, enclosing cards from
Furniture Warehouses--clearly the act of that ungentlemanly ruffian Jinkins:
only he hadn't evidence enough to call him out upon. All of which, so Mrs.
Todgers told Miss Pecksniff, spoke as plain English as the shining sun.
`My dear Miss Pecksniff, you may depend upon it,' said Mrs. Todgers, `that he
is burning to propose.'
`My goodness me, why don't he then?' cried Cherry.
`Men are so much more timid than we think 'em, my dear,' returned Mrs.
Todgers. `They baulk themselves continually. I saw the words on Todgers's lips
for months and months and months, before he said 'em.'
Miss Pecksniff submitted that Todgers might not have been a fair specimen.
`Oh yes, he was. Oh bless you, yes, my dear. I was very particular in those
days, I assure you,' said Mrs. Todgers, bridling. `No, no. You give Mr. Moddle a
little encouragement, Miss Pecksniff, if you wish him to speak; and he'll speak
fast enough, depend upon it.'
`I am sure I don't know what encouragement he would have, Mrs. Todgers,'
returned Charity. `He walks with me, and plays cards with me and he comes and
sits alone with me.'
`Quite right,' said Mrs. Todgers. `That's indispensable, my dear.'
`And he sits very close to me.'
`Also quite correct,' said Mrs. Todgers.
`And he looks at me.'
`To be sure he does,' said Mrs. Todgers.
`And he has his arm upon the back of the chair or sofa, or whatever it
is--behind me, you know.'
`I should think so,' said Mrs. Todgers.
`And then he begins to cry!'
Mrs. Todgers admitted that he might do better than that; and might
undoubtedly profit by the recollection of the great Lord Nelson's signal at the
battle of Trafalgar. Still, she said, he would come round, or, not to mince the
matter, would be brought round, if Miss Pecksniff took up a decided position,
and plainly showed him that it must be done.
Determining to regulate her conduct by this opinion, the young lady received
Mr. Moddle, on the earliest subsequent occasion, with an air of constraint and
gradually leading him to inquire, in a dejected manner, why she was so changed,
confessed to him that she felt it necessary for their mutual peace and happiness
to take a decided step. They had been much together lately, she observed, much
together, and had tasted the sweets of a genuine reciprocity of sentiment. She
never could forget him, nor could she ever cease to think of him with feelings
of the liveliest friendship, but people had begun to talk, the thing had been
observed, and it was necessary that they should be nothing more to each other,
than any gentleman and lady in society usually are. She was glad she had had the
resolution to say thus much before her feelings had been tried too far; they had
been greatly tried, she would admit; but though she was weak and silly, she
would soon get the better of it, she hoped.
Moddle, who had by this time become in the last degree maudlin, and wept
abundantly, inferred from the foregoing avowal, that it was his mission to
communicate to others the blight which had fallen on himself; and that, being a
kind of unintentional Vampire, he had had Miss Pecksniff assigned to him by the
Fates, as Victim Number One. Miss Pecksniff controverting this opinion as
sinful, Moddle was goaded on to ask whether she could be contented with a
blighted heart; and it appearing on further examination that she could be,
plighted his dismal troth, which was accepted and returned.
He bore his good fortune with the utmost moderation. Instead of being
triumphant, he shed more tears than he had ever been known to shed before: and,
sobbing, said:
`Oh! what a day this has been! I can't go back to the office this afternoon.
Oh, what a trying day this has been, Good Gracious!'
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