University of Virginia Library

12. THE TURF, HISTORICAL, SOCIAL, MORAL.

IT appears that horse-races were customary at public festivals even as early as the times of the patriarchs. They originated among the eastern nations, who were the first to discover the physical aptitudes of the noble animal and the spirited emulation of which he is capable. The Persians, the Greeks, the Romans, in succession, all indulged in the excitement; and it is a curious fact that the Romans, like the English jockeys of the present day, rode in different colours.

Horce {sic}-racing began very early in England. Fitz-Stephen, who wrote in the time of Henry VIII., mentions the delight taken by the citizens of London in the diversion. In the reign of Queen Elizabeth it appears to have greatly flourished, and

to have been carried to such an excess as to have ruined many of the nobility. The celebrated George, Earl of Cumberland, is said to have wasted more of his estates than any of his ancestors, and principally by his love of the turf and the tilt-yard. In the reign of James I., Croydon in the South, and Garterly in the North, were celebrated courses. Camden also states that in 1607 there were meetings near York, and the prize was a small golden bell; hence the origin of the saying `bearing off the bell.'

Lord Herbert of Cherbury denounced the practice. `The exercise,' says this gallant philosopher, `I do not approve of is running of horses — there being much cheating in that kind, — neither do I see why a brave man should delight in a creature whose chief use is to help him to run away.' As far as the cheating is concerned, the philosopher may be right, but most assuredly his views of the horse do no credit to his Lordship's understanding.

It appears that the turf-men of those days went on breeding for shape and speed alone, without considering `bottom,' until the reign of Queen Anne; when a public-spirited nobleman left thirteen plates or purses to be run for, at such

places as the Crown should appoint, upon con-dition that every horse should carry twelve stone for the best of three heats — four miles. By this means a stronger horse was raised, who, if he was not good enough upon the race-course, made a hunter.

The Merry Monarch, Charles II., had given cups or bowls, estimated at one hundred guineas value, and upon which the names of the winning horses, the winner, and jockey were usually engraved. William III. added to the plates, as did Queen Anne; but in 1720 George I. discontinued this royal encouragement to the sport, apparently through sheer meanness. Since that period `King's Plates' and `Queen's Plates' have been been {sic} paid in specie.

In the reign of Charles I. races were performed in Hyde Park; and until a very recent period `the Ring' in the Park was the rendezvous of gentlemen's servants, for the purpose of betting or making up their betting books.

Newmarket races were established by Charles II., in 1667. Epsom, by Mr Parkhurst, in 1711. Ascot, by the Duke of Cumberland, uncle to George III. Doncaster, by Colonel St Leger, in

1778. Goodwood, by the Duke of Richmond, who died in 1806.

The Jockey Club began in the time of George II. Its latest rules, by which races are regulated, were enacted in 1828.

Tattersall's, the `High Change of Horse-flesh,' was established by Richard Tattersall, near Hyde Park Corner — hence termed `The Corner' — in 1766, for the sale of horses. The lease of the ground having expired, the new premises at Brompton were erected, and opened for business, in 1803.

On the accession of Queen Victoria the Royal stud was sold for £16,476, in Oct., 1837.[71] [71] Haydon, Book of Dates.

Among the distinguished men who have supported the turf in this country may be mentioned George IV.[72] and William IV.; the late Duke of York; the Dukes of Richmond, Cleveland, Grafton,

Bedford, and Beaufort; Marquises of Exeter and Westminster; Earls of Glasgow, Stradbrooke, Wilton, Chesterfield, Eglintoun, Verulam, and Lonsdale; Lords George Bentinck, Foley, Kinnaird, &.; and last, though not least, the Right Honourable Charles James Fox. As to the turf, Fox used always to animadvert on his losses, and repeatedly observed — that `his horses had as much bottom as other people's, but that they were such slow, good ones that they never went fast enough to tire themselves.' He had, however, the gratification of experiencing some few exceptions to this imaginary rule. In April, 1772, he was so lucky at Newmarket as to win nearly £16,000 — the greater part of which he got by betting against the celebrated Pincher, who lost the match by only half a neck. The odds at starting were two to one on the losing horse. At the spring meeting at Newmarket, in 1789, Fox is said to have won not less than £50,000; and at the October meeting, at the same place, the following year, he sold two of his horses — Seagull and Chanticleer — for 4400 guineas. In the course of 1788 Fox and the Duke of Bedford won 8000 guineas between them at the Newmarket spring meeting, and during these races Fox and Lord Barrymore had a heavy match, which was given as a dead heat, and the bets were off. [72] For some period previous to 1790, George IV. had patronized horse-racing and pugilism; but in that year, having attended a prize fight in which one of the boxers was killed, he ceased to support the ring, declaring that he would never be present at such a scene of murder again; and in 1791 he disposed of his stud, on account of some apparently groundless suspicion being attached to his conduct with regard to a race, in the event of which he had little or no real interest.

On coming into office with Lord North, in 1783, Mr Fox sold his horses, and erased his name from several of the clubs of which he was a member. It was not long, however, before he again purchased a stud, and in October he attended the Newmarket meeting. The king's messenger was obliged to appear on the course, to seek one of the ministers of England among the sportsmen on the heath, in order to deliver despatches upon which perhaps the fate of the country might have depended. The messenger on these occasions had his badge of office, the greyhound, not liking that the world should know that the king's adviser was amusing himself at Newmarket, when he should have been serving him in the metropolis. But Charles Fox preferred the betting rooms to Downing Street.

Again, in the year 1790, his horse Seagull won the Oatlands stakes at Ascot, of 100 guineas (19 subscribers), beating the Prince of Wales's Escape, Serpent, and several of the very best horses of that year — to the great mortification of His Royal

Highness, who immediately matched Magpie against him, to run four days afterwards, two miles, for 500 guineas. This match, on which immense sums were depending, was won with ease by Seagull. At this period Lord Foley and Mr Fox were confederates. In those days the plates averaged from £50 to £100.

Lord Foley, who died in 1793, entered upon the turf with a clear estate of £1800 a year, and £100,000 ready money, which was considerably diminished by his losses at Newmarket, Ascot, and Epsom.

The race-horse of this country excels those of the whole world, not only for speed, but bottom. There is a great difference, however, between the present race and that of fifty or sixty years ago; for in those days four-mile heats were the fashion. The sporting records at the end of the last century give the following exploits of horses of that and previous periods.

Childers, known by the name of Flying Childers, the property of the Duke of Devonshire, was looked upon as the fleetest horse that ever was bred. He was never beaten; the sire of this celebrated horse was an Arabian.

Dorimont, belonging to Lord Ossory, won prizes to the amount of £13,360.

Eclipse was allowed to be the fastest horse that ever ran in England since the time of Childers. After winning largely for his owner, he covered, by subscription, forty mares at 30 guineas each, or 1200 guineas.

Highflyer, by King Herod, was the best horse of his day; was never beaten, nor paid forfeit but once. His winnings amounted to above £9000, although he only ran as a three, four, and five years old.

Matchem stood high both as a racer and as the sire of many of our most favourite horses. As a stallion he realized for his master more than £12,000. He died in 1781, at the advanced age of thirty-three.

Shark won a cup value 120 guineas, eleven hogsheads of claret, and above £16,000 in plates, matches, and forfeits.[73] [73] Lord William Lennox, Merrie England.

Among recent celebrities must be mentioned Lord Stamford, who is said to have engaged Jemmy Grimshaw, a light-weighted jockey, at a salary of £1000 a year.

The most astounding `event' of late years was that of 1867, when the horse Hermit — previously represented as being in an unfit condition even to run, won the race — to the unspeakable ruin of very many, and inflicting on the late Marquis of Hastings the enormous loss of about £100,000, which, however, in spite of unseemly rumours and, it is said, hopes of that nobleman's ruin, was honourably paid, to the day and hour.[74]

But if ruin did not immediately come upon the young marquis, still the wound was deadly, inflicted as though with the ferocity of a demon. In his broken health and rapid decay sympathy was not withheld from him; and when a premature death put an end to his sufferings, and was speedily followed by the breaking up of his establishment and the dispersion of his ancestral effects, most men felt that he had, perhaps, atoned for his errors and indiscretions, whilst all united in considering him another unfortunate victim added to the long list of those who have sacrificed their fortune, health, and honour to the Gambling Moloch presiding over the Turf of England.[74]

[74] The `Odds' or probabilities of horse racing are explained in chapter VIII., in which the entire `Doctrine of Chances' is discussed.

Such are the leading facts of horse-racing in England. One cannot help observing that the sturdy strength and muscular exertions of an Olympic charioteer of old exhibit a striking con-trast to the spider-like form and emaciated figure of a Newmarket jockey.

This is literally true respecting the English jockey, whose attenuated form is accounted for in the following dialogue in an old work entitled `Newmarket, or an Essay on the Turf,' 1771.

`Stop, stop, old gentleman! I desire to speak a word to you; pray which is the way to — — .'

`I beg, sir, you will not interrupt me. I am a Newmarket jockey — am to ride in a few days a match, upon which there is a great deal depending, and I am now preparing.'

`Oh, I see now, you are a young man, instead of that old one for whom I mistook you by your wrappings; but pray, explain.'

`Why, your Honour must know that we jockeys,

in order to bring ourselves down to the weight required for the horses we are to ride, sweat under a load of flannel wrapped about us beneath coats and great coats, and walk two or three miles in the heat of summer, till we are ready to faint under our burden.'

`Indeed! Why, you go through a deal!'

`Ah, sir, a great deal indeed! Why, we sometimes lie hours and hours between two feather-beds — to melt away our extraordinary weight.'

`But will you give me leave to examine your present dress? Hum! Two flannel waistcoats, a thick cloth coat, a Bath surtout! It is a vast weight to carry this warm weather. I only hope you won't sink under it.'

`Never fear, sir, I do not doubt but I shall do very well.'

The rewards of victory were as plain and simple in the Grecian games as they were distinguishing and honourable. A garland of palm, or laurel, or parsley, or pine leaves, served to adorn the brow of the fortunate victor, whilst his name stood a chance of being transmitted to posterity in the strains of some lofty Pindar. The rewards of modern days are indeed more substantial and solid,

being paid in weighty gold or its equivalent, no matter whether obtained by the ruin of others, while the fleet coursers and their exulting proprietors stand conspicuous in the list of the Racing Calendar. The ingenious and ironical author of `Newmarket, or an Essay on the Turf,' in the year 1771, bestowed the following titles and honours on the most famous horse of the day — Kelly's Eclipse: — `Duke of Newmarket, Marquis of Barnet, Earl of Epsom and York, Viscount Canterbury, Baron Eclipse of Mellay; Lord of Lewes, Salisbury, Ipswich, and Northampton; Comptroller-General of the race-grounds, and Premier Racer of All England.' To bear coat of arms — `A Pegasus argent on a field verd; — the supporters — two Englishmen in ermined robes and ducal coronets; — the crest — a purse, Or; — the motto — "Volat ocior Euro.'' '[75] [75] `He flies swifter than the east wind.'

Again, in the exhibition of those useful and honourable Olympic pastimes of old, the cause of morality was not overlooked: — there was in them a happy union of utility, pleasure, and virtue. A spotless life and unblameable manners, a purity of descent by being born in wedlock through several

generations, and a series of creditable relations, were indispensable qualifications of a candidate on the Olympic turf. It is true, there is at least as much attention paid to purity and faultlessness on the plains of Newmarket; but the application is to the blood and pedigree of the horse, not of his rider.

Nay, it was, and is, notorious that the word `jockey' has acquired the meaning of `to trick,' `to cheat,' as appears in all our dictionaries and in common parlance. What is the inference from this but that the winning of races is no absolute proof of the superiority of the horse — for whose improvement racing is said to be encouraged; but rather the result of a secret combination of expedients or arrangements — in a word, jockeying, that is, cheating, tricking. The only `moral' character required in the jockey is the determination to do whatsoever may be agreed upon or determined by those who are willing and able to give `a consideration' for the convenient accommodation.

But it is, or was, the associations, the inevitable concomitants, of the turf and racing that stamp it, not only as something questionable, but as a bane and infamy to the nation; and if there is one spot

more eminently distinguished for a general rendezvous of fraud and gambling, that place is Newmarket.

The diversions of these plains have proved a decoy to many a noble and ingenuous mind, caught in the snares laid to entrap youth and inexperience. Newmarket was a wily labyrinth of loss and gain, a fruitful field for the display of gambling abilities, the school of the sharping crew, the academy of the Greeks, the unfathomable gulf that absorbed princely fortunes.

The amusements of the turf were in all other places intermixed with a variety of social diversions, which were calculated to promote innocent mirth and gaiety. The breakfastings, the concerts, the plays, the assemblies, attracted the circle of female beauty, enlivened the scene, engaged the attention of gentlemen, and thus prevented much of the evil contagion and destruction of midnight play. But encouragement to the gambler of high and low degree was the very charter of Newmarket. Every object that met the eye was encompassed with gambling — from the aristocratic Rouge et Noir, Roulette, and Hazard, down to Thimble-rig, Tossing, and Tommy Dodd. Every hour of the

day and night was beset with gambling diversified; in short, gambling must occupy the whole man, or he was lost to the sport and spirit of the place. The inhumanity of the cock-pit, the iniquitous vortex of the Hazard table, employed each leisure moment from the race, and either swallowed up the emoluments of the victorious field, or sank the jockey still deeper in the gulf of ruin.

The common people of England have been stigmatized (and perhaps too justly) for their love of bloody sports and cruel diversions; cock-fighting, bull-baiting, boxing, and the crowded attendance on executions, are but too many proofs of this sanguinary turn. But why the imputation should lie at the door of the vulgar alone may well be questioned; for while the star of nobility and dignified distinction was seen to glitter at a cock-match or on a boxing-stage, or near the `Ring' — where its proprietor was liable to be elbowed by their highnesses of grease and soot, and to be hemmed in by knights of the post and canditates for Tyburn tree — when this motley group alike were fixed in eager attention, alike betted on and enjoyed each blood-drawing stroke of the artificial spur, or blow of the fist well laid in — what distinc

tion was to be made between peer and plebeian, except in derogation of the former?

The race-course at Newmarket always presented a rare assemblage of grooms, gamblers, and greatness.

[76] Wharton's Newmarket.

Newmarket fame was an object of ambition sought by the most distinguished personages.

[77] Ibid.

And then at the winning-post what motley confusion.

[78] `The Gamblers.' Horace had said long before — Tanto cum strepitu ludi spectantur, `So great a noise attends the games!

The frauds and stratagems of wily craft which once passed current at Newmarket, surpassed everything that can be imagined at the present day. The intruding light of the morning was execrated by the nightly gamblers. `Grant us but to perish in the light,' was the prayer of the warlike Ajax: — `Grant us black night for ever,' exclaimed the gambler; and his wishes were consistent with the place and the foul deeds perpetrated therein.[79]

[79] The principal gambling-room at Newmarket was called the `Little Hell.'

The turf-events of every succeeding year verify the lament of the late Lord Derby: —

`The secession from the turf of men who have station and character, and the accession of men who have neither, are signs visible to the dullest apprehension. The once national sport of horse-racing is being degraded to a trade in which it is difficult to perceive anything either sportive or

national. The old pretence about the improvement of the breed of horses has become a delusion, too stale for jesting.'

Nothing is more incontestable than the fact that the breed of English horses has not been really improved, certainly not by racing and its requirements. It has been truly observed that `what is called the turf is merely a name for the worst kind of gambling. The men who engage in it are as far as possible from any ideal of sporting men. It is a grim joke, in fact, to speak of "sport'' at all in their connection. The turf to them is but a wider and more vicious sort of tapis vert — the racing but the rolling of the balls — the horses but animated dice. It is difficult to name a single honest or manly instinct which is propagated by the turf as it is, or which does not become debased and vitiated by the association. From a public recreation the thing has got to be a public scandal. Every year witnesses a holocaust of great names sacrificed to the insatiable demon of horse-racing — ancient families ruined, old historic memories defiled at the shrine of this vulgarest and most vicious of popular passions.'

Among those who have sought to reform the

turf is Sir Joseph Hawley, who last year succeeded in procuring the abolition of two-year-old races before the 1st of May. He is now endeavouring, to go much further, and has given notice of a motion for the appointment of a committee of the Jockey Club to consider the question of the whole condition of the turf.

There can be no doubt, that, if Sir Joseph Hawley's propositions, as announced, be adopted, even in a modified form, they would go to the very root of the evil, and purify the turf of the worst of the present scandals.

It would require a volume, or perhaps many volumes, to treat of the subject of the present chapter — the Turf, Historical, Social, Moral; but I must now leave this topic, of such terrible national interest, to some other conscientious writer capable of `doing justice' to the theme, in all its requirements.