I never can understand upon what principle the rate of a groom’s wages is always inversely proportioned to the work he performs. For instance, Major Brush’s excellent domestic—a bât-man, of lengthy proportions and military exterior—brushed his master’s clothes, prepared his master’s breakfast, took the first horse to covert, and rode the second on occasion, cleaning either or both, if necessary, when they came in, upon a stipend which would barely have kept Mr. Tiptop in Cavendish and blacking.
The latter worthy, with a whole troop of helpers under his command, never seemed to have a moment to spare for anything but the routine duties of his station. As for riding a second horse, or remaining out on a wet day, beyond his accustomed dinner-hour, his master would as soon have thought of bidding him dig potatoes! No: if Mr. Tiptop went out hunting at all, it was generally on a third horse in excellent condition, that wanted a couple of hours’ preparation for the day after to-morrow, when the rider, in a long-backed coat, a shaved hat, and the best boots and breeches the art of man can compass, might be seen at intervals, during a run with the first fox, now opening a hand-gate, now creeping cautiously through a gap, and anon cantering, with a Newmarket seat, and his hands down, up some grassy slope, in front of soldiers, statesmen, hereditary legislators, and justices of the peace, as if not only the field, but the country, was his own.
Old Isaac, on the contrary, though subject to occasional “rustiness,” and imbued with a strong aversion to what he called being “put upon,” was ready and willing to turn his hand to anything, if he thought such versatility would really conduce to Mr. Sawyer’s advantage. With the assistance of The Boy—who, indeed, since his arrival at Harborough, had been constantly inebriated—the old man looked after the three hunters, the hack, and his master, with considerable satisfaction. He had even spare time on his hands, now that he was removed from the responsibility of the pigs, the poultry, and potatoes at The Grange.
It was in one of these moments of leisure that the bold idea of getting the better of Mr. Tiptop entered the old groom’s mind. I need not, therefore, specify that, under his calm demeanour, Isaac concealed a disposition of considerable enterprise and audacity.
Now the manner in which he proposed to take advantage of the acquaintance he had lately struck up with Mr. Tiptop was as follows:—By dint of his own sagacity and diplomatic reticence, he resolved that he would prevail on that gentleman to persuade his master that the redoubtable bay horse Marathon should be transferred to his own stables; and, to explain Isaac’s anxiety for this consummation, I must be permitted to describe the appearance and general capabilities of that peculiar animal.
Marathon, then, was a long bay horse, about fifteen-two, with short legs, a round barrel, well ribbed up, and an enormous swish-tail, of which he made considerable use. He was one of those doubtfully-shaped animals which are condemned alike by the eye of the totally inexperienced and the consummate judges of horseflesh, but which are much coveted by that large class of purchasers with whom “a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.”
And here I must remark how correct is usually our first impression of a horse; and how seldom ladies—who judge of these, as of all other articles, at a glance—are mistaken in their opinion of the noble animal, if indeed they condescend to turn their attention to his “make-and-shape.”
The worst point about Marathon was his head, which was coarse, and denoted a sulky temper; but he carried a beautiful coat; could stride away for a mile or so, on light ground, with his hind legs under him, in the form of a racehorse; and in short was never so graphically described as by Mr. Job Sloper, when he sold him for sixty guineas and a set of phaeton harness to his present owner: “If that there horse aint worth five hundred, why, he aint worth fifteen sovereigns—that’s all.”
And Mr. Sawyer has since confessed to himself, on more than one occasion, that Job Sloper was right.
Mr. Tiptop liked Isaac, because he thought him an original; and the swell groom, who was as epicurean in his tastes as if he had been a Peer, took the pleasure of his friend’s society over a can of egg-flip and a pipe of Cavendish daily, after evening stables; during which convivialities, the hard-headedness peculiar to the aborigines of the Old Country was of infinite service to the latter, who wormed out all the secrets of the Honourable Crasher’s stable, without betraying his own.