Geoffery Gambado."
"Dear John,—Give my old friend, Doctor Cassock, just such a nag as the first I had of you for £50, and I will pay you for it,—for its keep, and for its stable room,—groom and all,—so that the Doctor may always find it saddled and bridled, and have nothing to pay; but set all down to the account of,
"Dear John,—Give my old friend, Doctor Cassock, just such a nag as the first I had of you for £50, and I will pay you for it,—for its keep, and for its stable room,—groom and all,—so that the Doctor may always find it saddled and bridled, and have nothing to pay; but set all down to the account of,
"Your's at command,
Geoffery Gambado."
"Mr. John Tattsall."
A tear rose to the eye of Doctor Cassock, as his friend handed to him both the notes; and he felt that species of choaking sensation, which a good man feels at the unexpected generosity of a real friend.
"Oh, Gambado! what advice can I ever have given to you, worthy such generosity as this?"
"My dear old friend, I will tell you at once that I only follow out the text upon which you preached yesterday:
"'Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, even so do unto them: for this is the law, and the prophets.' I have only done as I would be done by."
The Doctor could only say, "God bless you."
He was soon after enabled to repay the Doctor; for a distant relation left him an independence, a few weeks after; and he became the merriest, if not the wisest, old gentleman of his day.
He could not, even then, leave off the faculty of invention; for he became the noted inventor of a noble puzzle, for Tumble-down horses. He was actually induced to take out a patent for it. He never found any body but himself to use it. He did use it, though in his case it never was wanted, for his horse never tumbled down with him; and he put everyone who saw him riding with it, in such a merry mood, that it was difficult to say which laughed the heartiest, the Doctor himself, or those who beheld him.
A friend in need is a friend indeed;If you find him, own his worth;He has never a word, but 'tis always God speed,From the east to west, from south to north;Do good to all, and do evil to none,And do to others,—what should be done.
A friend in need is a friend indeed;If you find him, own his worth;He has never a word, but 'tis always God speed,From the east to west, from south to north;Do good to all, and do evil to none,And do to others,—what should be done.
A Daisy Cutter, with his Varieties.
Inthe month of July, 1780, Doctor Geoffery Gambado was visited, from Birmingham, by the celebrated cutler, Mr. John Green, a gentleman who had become uncommonly dyspeptic from a great excrescence, wart, or wen, that grew out of his right temple, almost covering his ear. It gave him no particular pain, except when he chanced to recline upon that part of his head; yet, as every body looked at it, who came into his shop, and when he appeared at church, or in any public place, he grew uncommonly irritable and nervous. The faculty pronounced it too large to be cut out; and, if the truth be told, Mr. Green himself had such a horror of cutting, that, though a dealer in cutlery and in the very first steel articles, he had an unconquerable distaste to the knife being used upon his own person.
Like many other good kind of men, he dealt in articles that others might use; but he himself had no wish to use them. Those who use the sinews of men, that is, of other men, for their own speculative purposes, and actually abhor the use of the very things they sell, should be careful of the exciting, inciting, or foolish words they utter, lest their language should superinduce others to use those articles in which their traffic is, to their own destruction. Mr. Burton, the great Quaker, was a dealer in Burton ale to a great extent, though he was himself a rigidly abstemious man; yet, as his trade was a good one, and paid well both in the north and south, he could afford to give considerable sums to temperance, or even total abstinence societies, without feeling any loss in his trade. The fact is, until the bright men of traffic shall find out that the ruling principle of their souls is coveteousness, they will never reform the world by a spurious profusion of words and calculations, which have only that one principle to appeal to as their own support.
Mr. Green dealt in swords, and knives and forks, in guns and pistols, in lancets and razors; but he would not suffer the lancet or the knife to touch his own flesh. He was a dealer in weapons, not in blows. A man of peace, yet, like many a man styling himself a friend to humanity, and assuming apostolic liberty, he could find fault with every thing and every body; yet, for trade's sake, he had no objection to the demand for swords, guns, or pistols. He could supply the government with any quantity from his stores in Birmingham.
It must be confessed, that his nervous affection, and melancholy disposition arose more from the wart upon his brow, and all its external irritations, than from any qualms of conscience, arising from any kind of self examination, self accusation, or self condemnation. Few men's consciences so trouble them in the day of their prosperity.
He was recommended to consult the great nervous Doctor of the age, Doctor Gambado. So he went to town, had an interview with the Doctor, described all his agitating ails, and received this advice:
"Ride on horseback."
"But do you think that will do me any good?"
"I am quite sure it will do you some good,—to what extent it is impossible to say,—that must depend upon your patience and perseverance. One thing you can always do, namely, wear a hat that will cover the appearance of the excrescence, and I should not be surprised at its being the means of reducing its size considerably."
Little did the Doctor himself imagine how a cure, by his advice, was completely effected.
"Oh, Doctor!" exclaimed Mr. Green, "what would I not give could it be entirely eradicated by such gentle means as horseback exercise. I am no great rider, but I would ride any distance, and almost any horse, to get rid of this awkward protuberance."
"Well, my dear sir, we will try. Nothing like trying."
"I have heard, Doctor, that you have large stables, and keep horses of all kinds."
The Doctor could not help smiling when he thought of his own fame, as a horse keeper, horse doctor, and horse furnisher.
"I have large stables at the back of my house, and I have three horses of my own; but I never kept one for sale, or sold one myself. I let off my stables to a livery-keeper, who has ten or a dozen horses here, namely to Mr. John Tattsall, who has the credit of being able to suit everyone, only each must pay well to be suited."
"I should not mind what I had to pay, if I could be suited to my mind."
"Let us go and give him a look. If you can at all describe to him the sort of horse you want, I think he will soon be able to accommodate you. You may be sure, if the horse can be had, he will get it for you, if it is not at this time in his stable."
The Doctor's fee was cheerfully paid, £10 10s. neatly wrapt up in tissue paper. He had been told nothing less could be expected from a master cutler.
Mr. Green put on his large slouchy broad-brimmed hat that covered half his face; and the Doctor and his patient were soon in the presence of the great Mr. Tattsall.
"John, this gentleman wants a horse."
"Glad of it, sir. Pray what sort of horse do you want, sir?"
"A good one."
"Every body wants that, and I have a great many good 'uns;' but I like to know the sort of good 'un that a gentleman requires. One man likes a bay, another a gray, another a roan, another a chestnut; but the colour is not always the description. One likes a high action, another a gentle goer, another a thunderer, another a prime bang up; one likes a thorough-bred, another a hunter; some require cobs, others carriage horses, others ladies' horses, others park horses; but if you can describe the sort of animal you want, I can soon tell you if I can suit you."
"I did once see a horse," said Mr. Green, evidently calling up to his recollection days long gone by; "I did once see a horse that made me say to myself, 'There! if ever I ride on horseback, I should like to get just such a horse as that.' It was gentleness and elegance personified. It was a beautiful creature. It turned out its toes, just lifted one foot above the other, with a kind of quick cross action, and then set it down with such elegance and ease, that it seemed to trip along over the ground, exactly like a dancing master. Proud was its bearing, head up, and tail high," and Mr. Green most poetically described it in these words:
"It brushed the morning dew,And o'er the carpet flew,With all becoming grace.So gentle, and so nobly bred,Give it alone its upshot head,'Twould go at any pace."
"It brushed the morning dew,And o'er the carpet flew,With all becoming grace.So gentle, and so nobly bred,Give it alone its upshot head,'Twould go at any pace."
"Sir, I perceive you are a poet."
"Not a bit of it. I only cut them out of the Poet's Corner, in the Star, and I think the author's name was 'Anon;' but it mattered not as to who was the author, it described the very horse; and I thought then, and I think so still, that by a very short transposition it would suit my wife, and perhaps many others. What think you, sir?"
"She brushed the evening dew,And o'er the carpet flew,With all becoming grace.So gentle, and so nobly bred,Give her alone her upshot head,She'd go at any pace."
"She brushed the evening dew,And o'er the carpet flew,With all becoming grace.So gentle, and so nobly bred,Give her alone her upshot head,She'd go at any pace."
The Doctor and the dealer could not help laughing.
"I perceive, sir, you are a wag; if you are not a poet. I congratulate you upon having so charming a creature for your wife; and I only wish I may be able to suit you with as good a horse."
"Have you a horse of this description?"
"I have a mare exactly of that kind, and we call her the Daisy Cutter."
"Pray, let me see her."
"Shall I ride her, to show you her qualities?"
"If you please."
"Bring out the Daisy Cutter."
She was brought forth, and John soon set her off to advantage.
"Just the very thing! Just the very thing! Will you send her down to Birmingham? I am not exactly in riding trim, or I would ride her down myself."
The animal was paid for, sent home, and proved to be the very creature suited to Mr. Green's case.
He rode his celebrated Rosenante every evening, and greatly improved in bodily health. He actually became cheerful, and his wife blessed the good Doctor Gambado for having restored her husband to himself again.
Alas! for human infirmities, or for human vagaries! One of the most wonderful complaints of nervous hypochondriacism, was actually cured, together with its cause, by a momentary spree.
One beautiful evening, the little man was riding in the gaiety of his heart toward Aston Hall, visions of future greatness passing before his eyes, when, just upon the greensward in front of the park gates, there lay in his way a great black hog, on the very edge of the road. He thought within himself, that he should like to take a leap smack over the animal's back; and just looking round to see that no eye should behold his spree, he gave his "Rosenante" an unwonted kick with his heels.
She was certainly surprised at her master's unwonted action, and in the spurt of the moment, cocked her tail, lifted her head, and quickened her pace;—but whether she did not see the hog, or could not leap over it if she did, she ran directly over the animal, and fell over it, awaking it in a horrible fright to scamper grunting away;—but, alas! she pitched her own head, and her master's head also, without his hat, upon the hard road. They both went the whole hog. Mr. Green lay senseless on the road, in a pool of blood, arising from the severity of the blow, which tore away the whole scalp of the forehead, together with the entire wart or excrescence which grew thereupon. His Rosenante affrighted, returned to Birmingham,—was soon recognized,—and Mr. Green was soon carried insensible to the hospital. He remained there some days, recovering himself and his senses.
Thus the Daisy Cutter and his vagaries became a proverb in Birmingham. And that which skill could not, or rather through nervous apprehension was not, permitted to try, a black hog, one of the most unlikely things in the world, was instrumental in effecting.
When spirits mount in cheerful glee,Beware of leaping for a spree;For sprees create a fall:And when you leap alone in-cog,Beware of going the whole hog;Better not go at all.Yet sometimes good from ill may spring,—One spree may prove satiety:If Daisy Cutters wisdom bring,Rejoice in the variety.
When spirits mount in cheerful glee,Beware of leaping for a spree;For sprees create a fall:And when you leap alone in-cog,Beware of going the whole hog;Better not go at all.Yet sometimes good from ill may spring,—One spree may prove satiety:If Daisy Cutters wisdom bring,Rejoice in the variety.
A Horse with a Nose.
Didany one ever see a horse without a nose? It cannot, therefore, be meant, at the heading of this chapter, to draw any distinction between a horse with a nose, and a horse without one. We say of a dog, he has got a good nose; that is, if, as hound, pointer, or retriever, he can scent or find his gamewell. A man we have seen without a nose, and a very painful sight it is to see any feature of the human face in any way distorted; but that such a man can "smell a rat," denotes not that he has a peculiar quality of scent, but that he is a cunning fellow, and can look a little deeper into the artifices of men and their motives than others are aware of. Some men have indeed the smoothest faces, and the simplest manners, and yet retain the utmost cunning, or, if men like it better, wisdom in the world. They can smell a rat,—they can discover a flaw in the indictment,—they can see how an adversary may be overthrown, and can quietly stir up strife and pick the pocket of friend or foe, without of course doing any thing wrong; defrauding any one, or in any way letting the sufferer himself suppose that he is the victim or tool, or goose to be plucked by the cunning craft and subtlety of the deceiver.
If men will ruin themselves, whose fault is it? but, if they do so, there are plenty to rise upon their ruin, and to laugh at their folly. Conscience, they say, makes cowards of all men; but that conscience must be founded, not upon any man's judgement, but their own. There never was any man who did no wrong that could be afflicted by his own conscience; but there never was a man, who by his own unaided judgment, ever did right so perfectly, that his conscience could entirely acquit him of every base and sordid motive. Many may be very highly honourable and upright men, and yet have a great many rogues to deal with, and scarcely know how to deal with them. The best way is to say nothing, but avoid them.
Doctor Gambado had a patient come to him of this kind, and he was a lawyer who stoodvery, veryhigh in his station one hundred years ago.
He was provokingly ill,—ill in his body,—ill in his mind,—ill at ease with himself,—and dreadfully afflicted with such disturbed thoughts at night, that his sleep went from him, and his conscience had no rest.
It is very provoking to have a troublesome conscience; but it is more provoking still, not to be able to quiet that conscience by any common or uncommon means. Simon Deuce, Esq. who actually attained the eminence of high authority, not in the court of Conscience, or in the court of Equity, but in Chancery, had retired from business and left his son-in-law, Sir Charles Dubious, his house in Billiter-square. He himself took a mansion on Blackheath, and there he sought in vain for that enjoyment of rest and contentment, which good men only inherit in their latter end.
Physic was in vain,—advice, such as most men give, produced no cessation of anxiety. He became moody, sullen, morose, irritable, dogmatic, and all but absolutely irrational. His faculties were piercingly sound, his memory most acute, his legal knowledge clear, and his discovery of transgressions of law were every day displayed before his eyes, from those who rode in a coronetted barouche, to those who rode in a donkey cart. He loved, actually loved to make complaints, and to see the law carried out; and in petty acts of tyranny he was so absolute a persecutor, that he was a terror to all who lived around him.
Generosity was never in his nature, neither did he ever pretend to teach it, or observe its laws. In fact, every one was considered by him as a weak fool, who did either a kind or generous act, beyond the positive obligation of the law.
What happiness could such a man have in his retirement? His great happiness was the accumulation of money in the funds, and these occasioned him a momentary excitement. His friend, Samuel Ryecross, of Ryecross-house, Blackheath, advised him to consult Doctor Gambado.
"Do you mean Gambado, the horse dealer?"
"He is not a horse dealer."
"I say he is a horse dealer, and ought to take out a licence for horse dealing. He does not do so, and I have half a mind to have him up, and bring him into court for cheating, defrauding, and robbing the government."
"I think you must have been misinformed. I believe he is really a very clever, honest man, and gives good sound practical advice to all his patients."
"Yes, so I have heard; and all of it is 'Ride on horseback.' If I went to consult him, I should only get that advice. I know it before hand, and have no inclination to throw away a guinea for it."
"But is it bad advice in your case? would it not do you good to try it? Why, if you know his remedy, do you not pursue it?"
"Because I do not think it would do me any good."
"Well, you have tried a great many doctors. Let me drive you in my phaeton to Bread-street, and let us hear what the Doctor says."
"Will you pay the Doctor?"
"Yes, if you will follow his advice."
"Done, we will go."
They did go.
The Doctor knew the man he had to deal with, and yet he had confidence in the horseback exercise as the best cure for him, and he told him so.
"Have you got a horse that would suit me?"
"There is a fine strong horse in my stables, that I think would suit you."
"May we go and look at him?"
"I will go with you."
Samuel Ryecross was rather surprised; but Simon Deuce gave him a look, as much as to say, 'I told you he was a horse dealer.'
When they went to the stables, John Tattsall was there himself, and not being known to either of the gentlemen, they both supposed him to be the groom in the employ of Doctor Gambado.
"John, I have brought a customer to look at the great brown horse. Is he at home?"
"He is, sir; I will lead him out."
He led him out,—rode him,—and Mr. Deuce asked the Doctor what his price was. The Doctor said, "John, what did you say the horse was worth?"
"Ninety guineas, sir, and not a farthing less. I would not let the gentleman have him for one guinea less."
"Will you order him to be sent to my house on Blackheath?"
"Shall I ride him there now, and bring back your cheque?" said John Tattsall.
"You may, if you please, my man."
John bowed, and after ascertaining the name of the abode, Billiter house, Blackheath, he rode off.
"In what name, Doctor, shall I write the cheque?" for, presuming that the Doctor was not professionally a horse dealer, though he considered that he had bought the horse of him, he had a mind to see if he shrunk at all from the responsibility.
The Doctor replied, "In the name of the very man who delivers him, John Tattsall; and I hope the horse will suit you, sir, and do you good."
"There," said Mr. Deuce to his friend Ryecross, "what say you now to the Doctor dealer? hey! Is not my deal with him this day sufficient to convict him before any bench of Magistrates in all the counties of England. If I do not take the shine out of this Doctor Gambado, then say that Simon Deuce knows nothing of the law."
When they got home, the horse had arrived.
The cheque was written:
"Pay John Tattsall," &c. &c.
John touched his hat, walked off with his money, took a cab to Lombard-street, got the cheque cashed; and called and thanked the Doctor for his recommendation.
The very next day, the Doctor received a summons to answer the charge of being a horse dealer without a licence for that purpose. The suit was preferred in the name of Deucev.Gambado.
Of course, all these things are put into regular process of law, with which we shall not entertain the public. In due time, the case came on in the proper court, and Mr. Deuce swore that he bought such a horse of Doctor Gambado, and that the Doctor's servant, John Tattsall, delivered the horse at Billiter-house, Blackheath. Samuel Ryecross was witness to the transaction. The cheque was produced in court, and Mr. Deuce was lauded very highly for his sense of justice in not allowing the government to be defrauded, and more in not allowing that highly respectable profession of M.D. F.R.S. to be a covering to the tricks and degradation of a horse dealer without a licence.
Never, however, was Deuce more confounded in all his life, than by the cross examination of Serjeant Sharp.
"Pray, sir, may I ask—Did you go to consult Doctor Gambado for any complaint?"
"I went purposely, by the advice of my friend, Samuel Ryecross."
"For what purpose, Mr. Deuce?"
"To consult him."
"Were you ill at that time?"
"Decidedly not well."
"May I ask the nature of the complaint for which you consulted so eminent a physician as Doctor Gambado?"
Mr. Deuce hesitated.
"I have no desire to know more of the complaint than you may think right to tell us; but all who have heard of Doctor Gambado's patients, know well that they are mostly afflicted with nervous depression. May I ask if such was your case?"
"Yes, it was."
"You were deranged, sir; were you not?"
Mr. Deuce, with great vehemence, "No more deranged, sir, than you are."
"Do not be angry, sir, when I used the termderanged. I meant that your system was a little deranged, disorganized, or so out of sorts, as to produce a kind of physical disarrangement of the organs leading to the brain, so as to create unpleasant sensations, dyspeptic habits, sleepless nights, and a little of that irritability which we have just seen, so as to render you a little impulsive, and not unlikely to be mistaken."
Deuce did not like this at all, but he could not help saying
"It might be so."
"Oh! It might be so! Now, Mr. Deuce, I must put rather a strong question to you:
"Did you ever accuse Doctor Gambado of being a horse dealer?"
"Not that I am aware of."
"Not that you are aware of! Now, sir, I must get you to tax your memory, and I ask you plainly, did you not go on purpose to trap Doctor Gambado into the selling you a horse, that you might bring him into a court of justice?"
Mr. Deuce paused. He did not reply. He seemed nervous.
"Pray, sir, take your time. You are a member of the law, you know the law, and the usages of a court of justice; and I am sure you will give us a plain, straightforward answer."
"I did not go exactly with that intention. My friend, Mr. Ryecross, persuaded me to consult him about myself."
"Now, sir, I shall cross-examine your friend, Mr. Ryecross. Did you or did you not, at the very time that you went to consult this eminent physician, say to your friend, that he, meaning Doctor Gambado, was a horse dealer, and not a physician?"
"I might have so said."
"Pray, sir, do you understand the law of libel? I shall strongly recommend my client, let the result of this action be what it may, to bring an action against you, sir, for one of the grossest acts of libellous intention this court has ever heard of; and, if I mistake not the judgement this day will decide, whether a gentleman like yourself is to utter a libel of a ruinous tendency to so high a professional man, with impunity.
"Then you did say he was a horse dealer?"
"Yes, I did."
"Pray, sir, had you any previous acquaintance with Doctor Gambado?"
"None whatever."
"Then, I presume you acted in this manner entirely upon hearsay evidence?"
"I certainly did."
"You had no quarrel with Doctor Gambado?"
"None whatever."
"Was it a sense of justice to your country, that entirely induced you to try andsmell a ratin this gentleman's character?"
"It was."
"And on that account you laid this information against him?"
"I did."
"It was not from any morbid indulgence of any splenetic humour with which you were at that time afflicted, that induced you to bring this action?"
"Oh, dear, no!"
"I may say then, sir, you considered it entirely pro bono publico?"
"Quite so."
"You have told the court, sir, that you purchased the horse of Doctor Gambado?"
"I did so certainly."
"You are sure he sold it to you?"
"I am quite sure."
"Pray, sir, did you ask him, if the horse was his that you bought?"
"I asked him if he had any horse that would suit me."
"What was his reply?"
"To the best of my knowledge, it was that he had one in his stables that would suit me."
"Now, sir, did he say, thathe had a horsein his stables that would suit you?"
"I understood him so."
"Pray, Mr. Deuce, be sure; because I should be sorry to convict you of a wilful and direct falsehood. I pray you to be sure. Did he sayhe had a horse that would suit you? or did he say,there was a horse in his stables that would suit you?"
"It never struck me before,—he might certainly say,there was a horse; but I took him to mean, thathe had onethat he could sell me."
"Come, sir, I am very glad to find that you have a disposition to correct the evidence you have given for the prosecution. You have sufficient legal acumen to distinguish between a man saying,there is such a horse, andI have such a horse; the latter sentence would go to identify the ownership of the horse, or a declaration to that effect."
"He might then say,there was a horse in his stable?"
"Well, I think he did say so."
"And you did not ask whether the horse was his or not?"
"I did not."
Let Mr. Samuel Ryecross be called.
"You are the friend of the last witness,—are you not?"
"I am."
"You have known him for some years?"
"I have."
"Did you persuade him to consult Doctor Gambado?"
"I did."
"Upon what grounds?"
"Because of his dyspeptic habits."
"Did they not almost amount to monomania?"
"I considered that at times they did."
"Was he not very splenetic?"
"Very."
"I ask you, if he has not, in the neighbourhood of Blackheath, the character of being very litigious?"
"He is very unpopular."
"He quarrels with everybody?"
"He makes himself conspicuous for finding fault with all transgressors of the law."
"Is he not very angry?"
"He is very easily provoked."
"Now, sir, I think, when you proposed to consult Doctor Gambado, that he objected?"
"He did so."
"Upon what grounds?"
"Upon grounds that would, if true, disqualify any medical man, for professional consistency."
"What were these grounds?"
"He said he was a mere horse dealer,—that he would give him advice to ride on horseback, and would sell him a horse to do so."
"Did you believe his assertion?"
"No. I not only doubted it; but stoutly contradicted it."
"You had a better opinion of Doctor Gambado?"
"I had."
"Now, sir, did not your friend actually say to you, that he would have the fellow up, meaning Doctor Gambado, for being a horse dealer without a licence?"
"He did."
"Did he not go to the Doctor with that intent?"
"I verily believe he did; but I certainly did not accompany him with any such intent."
"You recommended him purely for his health?"
"I did; and, moreover, I paid the Doctor's fee, upon the promise that he would follow the Doctor's advice."
"Are Mr. Deuce's habits penurious?"
"Extremely so."
"Then how comes he to be so litigious?"
"He finds that costs him very little, if any thing in the end."
"He considers, then, in this case, that my client will be mulcted in costs?"
"I have no doubt he does."
"Were you present when he consulted Doctor Gambado?"
"I was."
"What was his advice?"
"Ride on horseback."
"Did you consider that good advice?"
"I did."
"What question did your friend put to the Doctor about the horse?"
"He asked him, 'Have you got a horse that will suit me?'"
"What was his reply?"
"There is a fine strong horse in my stables, that I think would suit you."
"Are you sure that was his reply?"
"Quite sure."
"Did you consider that reply as affixing the ownership of the horse to himself?"
"I confess that I did so."
"Did you see any triumphant glance, or recognition of Mr. Deuce's sagacity, at having fulfilled the declaration of the accuser, that he was a horse dealer?"
"Yes, I did."
"Did you think the horse was the Doctor's own?"
"I own, I did."
"Did you ask him if the horse was his?"
"No, I did not. I concluded it was so."
"Did you see the horse sold?"
"I did."
"Who do you consider sold the horse?
"I considered, to my great surprise, that Doctor Gambado sold the horse."
"Then you altered your opinion of the Doctor."
"I did so, considerably."
"Was your friend very warm upon the subject of the Doctor's horse dealing?"
"Very."
"Did you know of his resolution to bring this action?"
"I fully considered he would do so."
Mr. John Tattsall was then called.
"You are a horse dealer?"
"I am."
"You know both the plantiff and defendant?"
"I know the former, from having sold him a horse, have known the latter many years."
"Pray, sir, do you hire Doctor Gambado's stables?"
"I hire stables of Doctor Gambado."
"How far from your own stables?"
"The back premises of each join."
"How long have you hired the Doctor's stables?"
"Fifteen years."
"How many horses do you generally keep there?"
"Ten, twelve, fourteen, and sometimes sixteen horses."
"Pray, are you in partnership with Doctor Gambado?"
"No, I am not."
"Has he any share in your business?"
"None whatsoever."
"Has he any horses?"
"Three of his own."
"In a separate stable?"
"In a stable adjoining to those I hire of him."
"To your knowledge, did the Doctor ever sell a horse?"
"Never."
"Has he any horses to sell?"
"None."
"You positively affirm upon oath that the Doctor is not a horse dealer?"
"I swear it."
"Did he ever sell a horse for you?"
"Never."
"Did you ever authorize him to sell a horse for you?"
"Never."
"Pray was the horse that the plantiff, Mr. Deuce, bought, your property or the Doctor's?"
"Mine."
"Did the Doctor give the price of the horse to the gentleman, or did you?"
"I did,—the Doctor asked me what I had said was the price of the horse, and I told him,—and I told the gentleman I would not take one guinea less for him than ninety guineas."
"Then, really and truly, you took the money for your own horse, kept it, and did not give the Doctor a farthing?"
"I gave him nothing but 'Thank you, Doctor, for introducing to me a customer.'"
"Had the Doctor seen the horse before?"
"Frequently, and admired him for the strength of his limbs, and for his proportions."
"Do you remember what he said, when he brought the gentleman into your or his yard?"
"Yes. 'John, I've brought a customer.'"
"You knew what that meant?"
"Of course I did, and I led out the brown horse myself, and paced him, sold him, took the money; the cheque is, I suppose, in court: it was written for me, and I had no idea the horse was sold by anybody but me, to whom it belonged."
At this stage of the proceedings the solicitor for the prosecution intimated that his client wished to withdraw his case.
Serjeant Sharpe said, "He hoped his Honour would direct a verdict for the defendant, his client; and that the world would see what a shameful action it had been. He told the solicitor for the prosecution that he was glad that his client felt ashamed of himself. He could never make him amends for what he had done; that it was disgraceful in the extreme to seek the advice of so good a man, and to treat him in the way he had done. He was quite sure that he would shortly have an increase of his malady, and that even his friend, Mr. Ryecross, would no longer pity him."
The judge dismissed the case, with a high compliment to Doctor Gambado, and with full costs to be paid into court by Mr. Deuce.
This action had some good effect upon this unhappy man, though it did not cure him of hypochondriacism. He rode out on horseback—on his new horse;—but whenever that horse came to the sign of the Red Cross, on Blackheath, directly opposite the four cross ways, he would lift up his nose, stand stockstill, and as if he would have his rider see the cross, and think upon it, he would not be persuaded to move. In vain did the lawyer tug at him, chuck his bridle, kick his sides, and use the most violent gesticulations to get him on. Whether he had anosefor the stables, or had been accustomed to Blackheath Red Cross on former days, he certainly had a nose, and until some one gently led him from the spot he would never be compelled to leave it. So he went by the name ofOld Deuce's Horse, or,The Horse with a Nose.
Hast thou a nose to smell a rat?Beware thou get not tit for tat.'Tis better far to keep thy nose,Than have it split by angry foes.Avoiding strife, go, follow good,No harm will reach thee in such mood.
Hast thou a nose to smell a rat?Beware thou get not tit for tat.'Tis better far to keep thy nose,Than have it split by angry foes.Avoiding strife, go, follow good,No harm will reach thee in such mood.
Me, my Wife, and Daughter.
Whocan look upon the comfortable enjoyment of good and happy people, in their latter days, and not delight to see them? Such a picture as this, drawn originally by Henry Bunbury, Esq. and meant to convey a picture of domestic felicity in his day, would probably produce excessive ridicule if seen in these fast days. If, now, such a sight were seen in Rotten-row, however pleasing to the philanthropist, it would be called an affectation of absurdity. Yet Doctor Gambado, to the last year of his life, rode in such felicity that he was the only man in his profession that exactly practised the advice he gave. A contrast to everything in the present day,—we say to everything like modern enjoyment.
One hundred years ago, there were no puffing steam engines, drawing thousands, with the rapidity of lightning, to Brighton, Ramsgate, Margate, and Folkestone. Men all tell us, that domestic felicity is the same. We do not doubt it; but we find very few, very few, indeed, so blest with content, and so happy in their mutual society, as our respected friend, when, with his wife and daughter by his side, he rode a jog trot at the seaside, or the hillside, or along the fashionable road of life.
The Doctor had toiled through good report and evil report, and, like a prudent wise man, provided the best he could for his own. He kept up his house in Bread-street, though he declined practice altogether, that is, forpecuniary profit.
I question whether the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals would not have considered this an overloaded beast; but there was no such society in existence then. The weary camel, toiling over the waste, might be overloaded; but he would let his driver know how much he would carry. John Tattsall furnished his good friend, the Doctor, with elephantine horses, stout, stiff, strong, bony and sinewy; he was, without the aid of Doctor Cassock, the inventor of a wicker pannier of such ample dimensions, as to afford the most easy and convenient chair for each of the ladies, without exposing feet or ancles, or incommoding boots or dress. Now, indeed, ladies who travel in first-class carriages by rail, find the seats too narrow and almost destructive to their crinoline.
Hurrah for good people! Hurrah for happy people, wherever we can find them! Hurrah for the man who never allows his domestic felicity to be disturbed by any outward circumstances,—let his condition of life be among the highest or the lowest in the land! Hurrah for him who has the least ambition to gratify, except that of doing good to his neighbour! Hurrah for a grateful heart wherever it can be found! But whilst we thus laud the domestic comfort of real good people, let us not forget that they must have passed through many troubles and trials to gain that peace and serenity of mind, which our happy trio, Geoffery Gambado, his wife, and daughter, enjoyed. They had no affected display of superior accomplishments to delight society, and had no flattering encomiums passed upon them for their gentility. They were gentle, well informed, quiet, loveable people. They spoke that which they considered right, and always did the right thing as it ought to be done. The law which their good and excellent pastor taught them, they never departed from, viz. "That of doing to others, as they would others should do to them."
They kept the holiest law of true goodness,Love one another, in its perfect sense.
Doctor Gambado well knew who gave him a wife; and when he married, he resolved to perform the solemn vow he then made, and he kept his vow,—so did his wife her's,—and they were as happy a couple as could well be seen or known upon the face of the earth.
In his time, God's blessing was sought to enable him to keep his vow. There was no law then permitting men to go and be married without any asking of God's blessing upon such a step. Marriage was not then degraded into the unholy thing it is now, and conscience merely made to answer to a legal contract, which difference of opinion, or quarrels, or contrariety of disposition, may get dissolved in a divorce court. "For better for worse, for richer for poorer, till death us do part," is no longer the sole and solemn bond of matrimony. But the Doctor was a Christian in the noblest sense, and in domestic life his religion was his conscience, his wisdom, and his happiness. As little parade as man could make of outward profession was his study, but his heart was in the right place.
Where that is the case, ignorance and presumption, imposition and folly, are unknown. Men may ridicule simplicity of life and manners; but there is an honesty of heart superior to all affectation, which need never be afraid.
The troubles of life are always borne well by those who observe the law of God; and those who do not, never get any real release from them. They may get riches; they may hide the blush of coveteousness; but they have very little real comfort within themselves, because of the very changes which they themselves and all things around them undergo.
Doctor Gambado enjoyed every change of life, and lost no good condition either. He could look upon the calm sea with delight, and with the serenity of one who had not lived in vain. He always entertained the kindliest feelings of a brother for his sincere friend, Doctor Cassock, who used to drop in with any new number of the Spectator, and enjoy it. The domestic evenings spent in classical friendship are among the purest scholastic as well as domestic enjoyments.
Envy he had none, and therefore was most to be envied of those who, like Mr. Deuce, or anyone else, never enjoyed the happiness of another. Promote the welfare of another, and you will find your own comfort increased. Detract from another, and nothing but envy will be your increase.
The object with which this book was begun, and is finished, is to let you see, reader, how to make something out of that which might to many appear worse than nothing.
Suppose that sixteen drawings of this character were given you, with nothing but the heading of each chapter written under them,—would you have made out a more comprehensive description of the probability of their truth? There is some profit in the labour, if your heart is in any way cheered by beholding the ingenuity of man.
Works of art, or works of great expense, or great works of any kind, the Author makes no kind of pretence to perform; yet, if you are pleased with his ingenuity, grudge not a helping hand at any time to reward industry.