Geoffery Gambado Part 4

Fame never permits her votaries to rest, and once a man has gained a certain reputation for any thing, he is wise who can be the humblest under it, because he is conscious only of demerit. Should Fame desert him, he will never sink under it. He will say, "I had a great deal more than I deserved; let me be content." Wise man indeed! Doctor Gambado, however, found that Fame did not desert him nor his practice. He was the more sought after, the more personally-retired he would become.

Bread-street is not now celebrated for the worthies it was an hundred years ago; but there are worthy men in it, and perhaps worthier than those an hundred years ago, though not so celebrated for _eccentricities_. Man's nature alters very materially under the impression of time. Men inveigh against fas.h.i.+on; but the most convenient fas.h.i.+on is that which is the simplest after all. Clerical habits alter; externally they go for a cla.s.s, a profession, or degree. We hope that external feature will never be mistaken for internal; or the clergy would be black indeed. Quakerism used to be a badge of simplicity in dress and manners, till the self-possession of prosperity destroyed the equanimity of judgment; and men set them down for exactly their worth.

But gently, my steed, gently; too long soliloquies generally make a man yawn.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Doctor Gambado had to go from London to York, and to visit no less a person than one of the greatest ecclesiastical dignitaries of the land, as the following letter will show.

"Precincts, York, October 10th, 1774.

"SIR,--Doctor Greathead is desirous of consulting you, as speedily as possible; and if you have an eminent veterinary surgeon, who can accompany you, the Doctor will pay all expenses, as he has a favourite horse very ill. Travel post, if you please.

I am sir, your humble servant, GEORGE GOTOBED, Hon. Sec. &c. &c."

Characteristic of simplicity was the Doctor's letter, that very instant, to John Tattsall, written on a sc.r.a.p and sent by his own servant.

"JOHN,--Will you be ready to start for York in an hour?

"Your's,--GAMBADO."

John's reply was more laconic.

"Yes.

"Your's,--J. T."

In one hour see this loving couple off for York. Each confiding in the other's integrity, they each took plenty of money with them. At that time, travelling by post or by coach was no joke. In a general way, from London to York was a four days' journey; but now, four hours will do great things.

We are not going to bother our readers with a description of all the adventures of these worthies on their way. How many times they were upset. How many times the post boy's horse fell down. How many spokes, fellies, or hobs, were splintered. Let it suffice that, with two such resolute men inside, who were never at a loss for contrivances under the very worst circ.u.mstances, they were sure to get safely through the journey.

Had the reader seen the blunderbuss,--yes, the bell-mouthed bra.s.s blunderbuss,--with a strange springing bayonet at the muzzle, the moment it was discharged, and this placed in the fore front of the carriage, directly opposite the sword case behind, he would indeed have said the Doctor was well provided against any robbers of the Yorks.h.i.+re Ridings.

John, too, had a brace of pistols under his belt. They had no occasion, however to use them. They were conspicuous enough to every post-boy, waiter, and stable-keeper. Whether that kept them from an attack, we know not; but they were not attacked, and arrived safely at the then celebrated Precincts, close to the Cathedral.

They found the great Doctor Greathead, seated in an invalid chair, about four o'clock in the afternoon. His first words of salutation were those of hospitality.

"Gentlemen, have you had any refreshment after your journey?"

Doctor Gambado declared they had only just stept out of the carriage.

"Before I converse with the gentlemen, show them into the refectory. I will be prepared, half an hour hence, for our consultation."

Glad was Doctor Gambado, to refresh his stomach after travel, and not less glad John Tattsall to partake of the great divine's hospitality.

They did ample justice to the good things set before them; and as neither of them had any favour to ask of this great man, but both had something to confer, they were in no fear of taking too much or too little.

The butler was very attentive, and asked if they had had any adventures upon the road. Of course he received a courteous reply. The Doctor inquired if there was any thing new in York. New York was then unknown; but _York New Theatre_ was then the go all over the north. It was just finished in most exquisite style, and was in fact the lion of the north.

"You will have plenty to see, sir," said the butler, "if you never were at York before. Our Minster is the wonder of the world."

"But your master, he must be a wonder?"

Very few masters are wonders in their butler's eyes, though many a butler becomes a wonder in the service of his master.

"There is nothing very wonderful about my master, except his present indisposition; and I most sincerely hope that your visit may do him good."

The butler had great respect for Doctors, and for Doctors that had before them the t.i.tle of Right Reverend, or His Grace, or My Lord, or The Venerable; and these or some of these, he was accustomed to see every day; but an M.D. F.R.S. was not often in his view. He had noted these letters upon Doctor Gambado's card. The other gentleman had no card, and, therefore, he concluded that he was the greater man.

The footman came in to announce that his master was ready to receive Doctor Gambado and his friend.

There was something formidable in entering the presence of so great a divine as Doctor Greathead; but they were not going in for an examination of themselves, but to examine.

"Now, my friends, I can talk to you. I did not like talking to starving men, lest they should be ready to eat me up; and you will say, they would have enough to do to do that. But there are no cannibals at York, or I might have been eaten up long ago. Still, I regret to say that I have a disease preying upon my vitals; and except you can prescribe a cure, Doctor, I am afraid it is all up with me."

"We can prescribe no cure, without understanding the nature of the complaint."

"But it is that which puzzles the faculty in York. They say I have no bodily complaint; that it is all upon the _nerves_; and therefore it is, that in applying to my friend, Doctor Turnbull, to know if he knew any physician in London celebrated for his knowledge of the treatment of nervous cases, he mentioned you as the author of a book upon the nervous system; and I desired my secretary to write to you. You have well done to come to us, and we hope to receive benefit from your advice."

"I am obliged to Doctor Turnbull, for the mention of my name; but I must make some inquiries about your bodily health?"

"How is your appet.i.te?" "Good."

"How is your sleep?" "Good."

"How is your sight?" "Good."

"How is your pulse?" "Try it."

"What do you say yourself?" "It is good."

"Have you any fever?" "None."

"Have you any particular pain?" "No."

"Do you walk much?" "No."

"Do you ride much?"

"I can ride no longer; and I fear this is one of the painful causes of my strange distemper."

"Are you accustomed to horseback exercise?"

"Constant: I used to ride on the Carlisle road every day, till about a month since, and now I never ride."

"Why not?"

"I have lost the fancy or taste for it, and somehow I care no longer about it."