Todgers' Page #4

"Todgers'" is a lesser-known work by Charles Dickens that explores the bustling life of 19th-century London, centering around a fictional tavern and the diverse characters who frequent it. Through vivid storytelling and keen social commentary, Dickens delves into themes of poverty, class, and the human condition, showcasing his signature blend of humor and pathos. The narrative captures the lively atmosphere of the era while highlighting the struggles and triumphs of everyday people, making it a rich reflection of Victorian society.

• Children

								

"and will say that I and my daughters----"

"And Mrs. Todgers, pa," said Mercy.

"And Mrs. Todgers, of London," added Mr. Pecksniff, "that I, and my
daughters, and Mrs. Todgers, of London, did not intrude upon them, as
our object simply was to take some notice of Miss Pinch, whose brother
is a young man in my employment; but that I could not leave this very
noble mansion without adding my humble tribute, as an architect, to the
correctness and elegance of the owner's taste, and to his just
appreciation of that beautiful art, to the cultivation of which I have
devoted a life, and to the promotion of whose glory and advancement I
have sacrificed a--a fortune--I shall be very much obliged to you."

"Missis' compliments to Miss Pinch," said the footman, suddenly
appearing and speaking in exactly the same key as before, "and begs to
know wot my young lady is a-learning of just now."

"Oh!" said Mr. Pecksniff, "here is the young man. He will take the
card. With my compliments, if you please, young man. My dears, we are
interrupting the studies. Let us go."

One evening, following the visit to Miss Pinch, there was a great bustle
at Todgers', partly owing to some additional domestic preparations for
the morrow and partly to the excitement always arising in that house
from Saturday night, when every gentleman's linen arrived at a different
hour in his own little bundle, with his private account pinned on the
outside. Shrill quarrels from time to time arose between Mrs. Todgers
and the girls in remote back kitchens; and sounds were occasionally
heard, indicative of small articles of ironmongery and hardware being
thrown at the boy. It was the custom of that youth on Saturdays to roll
up his shirt sleeves to his shoulders, and pervade all parts of the
house in an apron of coarse green baize; moreover, he was more strongly
tempted on Saturdays than on other days (it being a busy time) to make
bolts into the neighboring alleys when he answered the door, and there
to play at leap-frog and other sports with vagrant lads, until pursued
and brought back by the hair of his head or the lobe of his ear; thus,
he was quite a conspicuous feature among the peculiar incidents of the
last day in the week at Todgers'.

He was especially so on this particular Saturday evening, and honored
the Misses Pecksniff with a deal of notice; seldom passing the door of
Mrs. Todgers' private room, where they sat alone before the fire,
without putting in his head and greeting them with some such compliments
as, "There you are again!" "Ain't it nice?"--and similar humorous
attentions.

"I say," he whispered, stopping in one of his journeys to and fro,
"young ladies, there's soup to-morrow. She's a-making it now. Ain't she
a-putting in the water? Oh! not at all neither!"

In the course of answering another knock, he thrust in his head again:

"I say--there's fowls to-morrow. Not skinny ones. Oh no!"

Presently he called through the keyhole:

"There's a fish to-morrow--just come. Don't eat none of him!" and with
this spectral warning vanished again.

By-and-by, he returned to lay the cloth for supper. He entertained them
on this occasion by thrusting the lighted candle into his mouth, after
the performance of which feat, he went on with his professional duties;
brightening every knife as he laid it on the table, by breathing on the
blade and afterwards polishing the same on the apron already mentioned.
When he had completed his preparations, he grinned at the sisters, and
expressed his belief that the approaching meal would be of "rather a
spicy sort."

"Will it be long before it's ready, Bailey?" asked Mercy.

"No," said Bailey, "it is cooked. When I come up she was dodging among
the tender pieces with a fork, and eating of 'em."

But he had scarcely achieved the utterance of these words, when he
received a sudden blow on the head, which sent him staggering against
the wall; and Mrs. Todgers, dish in hand, stood indignantly before him.

"Oh you little villain!" said that lady. "Oh you bad, false boy!"

"No worse than yerself," retorted Bailey, guarding his head with his
arm. "Ah! Come now! Do that agin, will yer!"

"He's the most dreadful child," said Mrs. Todgers, setting down the
dish, "I ever had to deal with. The gentlemen spoil him to that extent,
and teach him such things, that I'm afraid nothing but hanging will ever
do him any good."

"Won't it!" cried Bailey. "Oh! Yes! Wot do you go a-lowerin' the
table-beer for, then, and destroying my constitooshun?"

"Go down-stairs, you vicious boy!" said Mrs. Todgers, holding the door
open. "Do you hear me? Go along!"

After two or three skilful dodges he went, and was seen no more that
night, save once, when he brought up some tumblers and hot water, and
much disturbed the two Misses Pecksniff by squinting hideously behind
the back of the unconscious Mrs. Todgers. Having done this justice to
his wounded feelings, he retired under-ground; where, in company with a
swarm of black beetles and a kitchen candle, he employed himself in
cleaning boots and brushing clothes until the night was far advanced.

Benjamin was supposed to be the real name of this young servant, but he
was known by a great variety of names. Benjamin, for instance, had been
converted into Uncle Ben, and that again had been corrupted into Uncle.
The gentlemen at Todgers' had a merry habit, too, of bestowing upon him,
for the time being, the name of any notorious criminal or minister; and
sometimes, when current events were flat, they even sought the pages of
history for these distinctions; as Mr. Pitt, Young Brownrigg, and the
like. At the period of which we write, he was generally known among the
gentlemen as Bailey junior; a name bestowed upon him in
contradistinction, perhaps, to the Old Bailey prison; and possibly as
involving the recollection of an unfortunate lady of the same name, who
perished by her own hand early in life, and has been made famous in a
song.

The usual Sunday dinner-hour at Todgers' was two o'clock--a suitable
time, it was considered, for all parties; convenient to Mrs. Todgers, on
account of the baker's; and convenient to the gentlemen, with reference
to their afternoon engagements. But on the Sunday which was to introduce
the two Misses Pecksniff to a full knowledge of Todgers' and its
society, the dinner was postponed until five, in order that everything
might be as genteel as the occasion demanded.

When the hour drew nigh, Bailey junior, testifying great excitement,
appeared in a complete suit of cast-off clothes several sizes too large
for him, and, in particular, mounted a clean shirt of such extraordinary
magnitude that one of the gentlemen (remarkable for his ready wit)
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