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 stood very, very high 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 Deuce v. 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 term deranged. 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 and smell a rat in 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, that he had a horse in 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 say he 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, that he had one that 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, and I 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 a nose for 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 of Old Deuce's Horse, or, The Horse with a Nose.