_How to ride a Horse on three Legs._
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 fashion; but the most convenient
fashion is that which is the simplest after all. Clerical habits
alter; externally they go for a class, 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.
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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 scrap 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 circumstances, they were sure to get safely through the
journey.
Had the reader seen the blunderbuss,--yes, the bell-mouthed brass
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 Yorkshire 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 title 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 appetite?" "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."
"Ah! that's bad! That's bad of itself. You met with no accident, to give
your nervous system a shock, did you?"
"None whatever, except that my favourite old horse could go no longer,
and I no longer felt inclined to go."
"But there are other horses that might be had equally as good."
"None, sir, None! I do not believe there is another horse in England
that could carry me, like my old gray."
"If Yorkshire cannot suit you, I know no other county in the kingdom
likely to do so. Surely, Doctor Greathead, you must be deceived in this
respect?"
"Deceived or not, Doctor Gambado, I am not deceived in saying this, that
I will ride no other horse; and, in fact, I would rather ride that horse
on three legs, if he could be made to go upon them, then any other horse
upon four."
Great men as well as little men have singular crotchets in their heads
sometimes; and if these crotchets cannot be altered, they will go on in
such a monotonous tone that they never get out of it. The Doctor was a
learned scholar, and a very good divine; but his favourite horse was as
dear to him as a lady's favourite cat or cap could be to her.
He had rode the same horse ten years, and had got so attached to him,
that when that horse was seized with a lameness in the off hind leg, and
could no longer stand or go upon it, the Doctor's sympathies increased
with his favourite, though he was no longer any use to him. Like his
master, the animal fed well, and could sleep well, but he could not go.
"Have you seen my horse?"
"I came to see yourself first, Doctor, and I can have no objection to go
and see your horse, in company with my friend Mr. John Tattsall, who I
should say knows more of a horse than any man living; and can make a
horse go, I verily believe, on three legs."
The very idea gave animation to Doctor Greathead's features.
"I will walk with you to the stables."
He rang the bell, ordered his hat, gloves, and even his riding whip, so
precocious was the idea that the Doctor had conceived of being able to
mount once more his favourite gray.
The horse was led out, and came out upon three legs; the other evidently
of no use to him. In fact he could not put it to the ground.
John examined the sturdy old fellow, who had a small head and stout
legs; he pronounced him to be afflicted with an incurable disease in the
coffin-bone, and said he never could go upon that leg. He looked at all
the other limbs, and pronounced them _all right_.
"A fine old horse, your Reverence; a fine old horse, fit to carry your
worship's weight; but he never will go again upon all fours."
"Can he ever be made to go upon three?"
"I see no reason to doubt it. The disabled limb is only such from the
fetlock to the hoof; if the joint could be supported from the hock to
the fetlock, and pressure be produced so as to keep that leg up to his
body, without any weight falling upon the tendons of the foot, I see no
reason why the horse should not canter upon three legs,--I do not say
with the same ease as he would upon four sound ones; but certainly
easier far than he could upon the four as they now are."
"You are a sensible man, sir, and what you say seems feasible. What
would you suggest?"
"Let one of your grooms go and get a Yorkshire weaver's strap that will
go once round the animal's body, and at the same time catch up the
animal's leg,--and fasten it with a stout Birmingham buckle, so that the
power shall be exerted in the leg bone without the fetlock or the foot;
and I think your Reverence will be able to show to all the world _how to
ride a horse on three legs_."
"Good! good! Let it be done immediately: I verily believe it can be
done."
It literally was done, and in one hour Doctor Greathead showed that he
himself was alive again. He mounted his favourite gray; and though the
animal laid its ears, and lifted up its hind quarters, rather higher
than usual, it went; and did perform what the Doctor never expected it
to do again--namely, carried him a mile on the Carlisle road, and that
without a fall.
It did the Doctor good whenever he did ride it. How often that was, we
have no record to tell us.
He paid the Doctor of Medicine and his friend John Tattsall more than
would have purchased three fine Yorkshire horses. In fact he paid for
his whim.
He was cured of his whim.
And Doctor Gambado and his friend John returned to town satisfied.
If men have fancies, bugbears of the mind,
And money, too, to pay for what they want;
Why should they not, like Doctor Greathead, find
Their fancies made to profit more than cant?
We all have fancies! what more should we say,
Than if we would indulge them, we must pay?
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