CHAPTER XV.
_Me, my Wife, and Daughter._
WHO can look upon the comfortable enjoyment of good and happy people, intheir 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 ofdomestic felicity in his day, would probably produce excessive ridiculeif seen in these fast days. If, now, such a sight were seen inRotten-row, however pleasing to the philanthropist, it would be calledan affectation of absurdity. Yet Doctor Gambado, to the last year of hislife, rode in such felicity that he was the only man in his professionthat exactly practised the advice he gave. A contrast to everything inthe present day,--we say to everything like modern enjoyment.
One hundred years ago, there were no puffing steam engines, drawingthousands, with the rapidity of lightning, to Brighton, Ramsgate,Margate, and Folkestone. Men all tell us, that domestic felicity isthe same. We do not doubt it; but we find very few, very few, indeed, soblest with content, and so happy in their mutual society, as ourrespected friend, when, with his wife and daughter by his side, he rodea jog trot at the seaside, or the hillside, or along the fashionableroad of life.
The Doctor had toiled through good report and evil report, and, like aprudent wise man, provided the best he could for his own. He kept up hishouse in Bread-street, though he declined practice altogether, that is,for _pecuniary profit_.
I question whether the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animalswould not have considered this an overloaded beast; but there was nosuch society in existence then. The weary camel, toiling over the waste,might be overloaded; but he would let his driver know how much he wouldcarry. John Tattsall furnished his good friend, the Doctor, withelephantine horses, stout, stiff, strong, bony and sinewy; he was,without the aid of Doctor Cassock, the inventor of a wicker pannier ofsuch ample dimensions, as to afford the most easy and convenient chairfor each of the ladies, without exposing feet or ancles, or incommodingboots or dress. Now, indeed, ladies who travel in first-class carriagesby rail, find the seats too narrow and almost destructive to theircrinoline.
Hurrah for good people! Hurrah for happy people, wherever we can findthem! Hurrah for the man who never allows his domestic felicity to bedisturbed by any outward circumstances,--let his condition of life beamong the highest or the lowest in the land! Hurrah for him who has theleast ambition to gratify, except that of doing good to his neighbour!Hurrah for a grateful heart wherever it can be found! But whilst we thuslaud the domestic comfort of real good people, let us not forget thatthey must have passed through many troubles and trials to gain thatpeace and serenity of mind, which our happy trio, Geoffery Gambado, hiswife, and daughter, enjoyed. They had no affected display of superioraccomplishments to delight society, and had no flattering encomiumspassed upon them for their gentility. They were gentle, well informed,quiet, loveable people. They spoke that which they considered right, andalways did the right thing as it ought to be done. The law which theirgood 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 itsperfect sense.
Doctor Gambado well knew who gave him a wife; and when he married, heresolved to perform the solemn vow he then made, and he kept hisvow,--so did his wife hers,--and they were as happy a couple as couldwell 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 anyasking of God's blessing upon such a step. Marriage was not thendegraded into the unholy thing it is now, and conscience merely made toanswer to a legal contract, which difference of opinion, or quarrels, orcontrariety of disposition, may get dissolved in a divorce court. "Forbetter for worse, for richer for poorer, till death us do part," is nolonger the sole and solemn bond of matrimony. But the Doctor was aChristian in the noblest sense, and in domestic life his religion washis conscience, his wisdom, and his happiness. As little parade as mancould make of outward profession was his study, but his heart was in theright place.
Where that is the case, ignorance and presumption, imposition and folly,are unknown. Men may ridicule simplicity of life and manners; but thereis an honesty of heart superior to all affectation, which need never beafraid.
The troubles of life are always borne well by those who observe the lawof God; and those who do not, never get any real release from them. Theymay get riches; they may hide the blush of coveteousness; but they havevery little real comfort within themselves, because of the very changeswhich they themselves and all things around them undergo.
Doctor Gambado enjoyed every change of life, and lost no good conditioneither. He could look upon the calm sea with delight, and with theserenity of one who had not lived in vain. He always entertained thekindliest 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 purestscholastic as well as domestic enjoyments.
Envy he had none, and therefore was most to be envied of those who, likeMr. Deuce, or anyone else, never enjoyed the happiness of another.Promote the welfare of another, and you will find your own comfortincreased. Detract from another, and nothing but envy will be yourincrease.
The object with which this book was begun, and is finished, is to letyou see, reader, how to make something out of that which might to manyappear worse than nothing.
Suppose that sixteen drawings of this character were given you, withnothing but the heading of each chapter written under them,--would youhave made out a more comprehensive description of the probability oftheir truth? There is some profit in the labour, if your heart is inany way cheered by beholding the ingenuity of man.
Works of art, or works of great expense, or great works of any kind, theAuthor makes no kind of pretence to perform; yet, if you are pleasedwith his ingenuity, grudge not a helping hand at any time to rewardindustry.
Ah! little thought Gambado, in his day, As on he passed through life's uneven way, How many toils and troubles he would scan, Before he reached the common age of man! Yet on he went; and as his years declined, And quietude and peace becalmed his mind, He felt and owned, no greater bliss could be Than resignation for Eternity. "Ah!" he would say, "behold, dear wife, yon sea, Each wave seems striving for celebrity! It rolls along until it reach the shore, Then bursts in froth,--and then is seen no more! Still, on and on succeeding waves advance, And thus perpetual motion would enhance. 'Tis so with mortals striving on and on, They reach the shore,--and all their toil is gone. How oft yon waves, by angry tempests tost, Like human passions, are in fury lost; Dash'd on the rocks, their crested pride, in foam Sprays into atoms ere it finds a home."
So mighty strugglers after this world's fame, Find all their fury perish with their name. 'Tis seldom known that speculators thrive, Or long their great inventions may outlive. Others come on,--no end of new things known, One age will praise,--the next, the praise disown. Feathers you wear,--but feathers blown away, Will be succeeded by some new display. We ride on horseback, and survey the tide,-- The age will come, that horses none will ride; The age will be that coaches will no more Be seen with horses, two, or three, or four; But on will pass, and leave no other trace, Than iron's friction from a rapid pace.
What would Gambado think, if he could see His own predictions made a verity? Who can predict one single year's advance? Truth is so strange it seems a day's romance. Things that last year were mighty,--are all gone; Works of great hope,--are perished and undone. Iron is moulded by the human hand;
And wooden walls no more the seas command. All would be great, be rich, and all invent, But few there are, who are at all content. With lightning speed intelligence conveyed From land to land, the iron rails are laid,-- And 'neath the ocean's deep united cords, Convey the merchant's or the prince's words. But mostly all, by sea, or land, or train, Is that the traffickers may get their gain.
The greatest gain, that ever man could get, Is sweet contentment after every fret. When projects are completed, all is vain, For other projects follow in their train; Old age comes on,--all projects quickly cease,-- Happy are they who live and die in peace. Gambado did so: Reader, may thy fame Rest with content on One Blest, Holy Name!
THE END.
Transcriber's Notes: The original publication did not contain a table ofcontents. This has been provided for the reader's convenience. Therewere a few printer's errors which have been corrected. For example,Chapter XIII was entitled "A Daisey Cutter, with his Varieties" whereasthe name was spelt Daisy in the text.
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