institution. The Merry Monarch even condescended to ride himself, and
rode a match at Newmarket in 1671, on which occasion his horse Woodcock
was beaten.
Charles kept and entered horses in his own name, and by his attention
and generosity added importance and lustre to the institution over
which he presided. Bells, the ancient reward of swiftness, were now no
longer given; a silver bowl or cup of the value of one hundred guineas
succeeded the tinkling prize. On this royal gift the exploits of the
successful horse, together with his pedigree, were usually engraven to
publish and perpetuate his fame.
James the Second is reputed to have been a good horseman, but his reign
was too short and troublesome to permit him to indulge his inclinations
as regards horses. He was a lover of hunting, and ever preferred
English mounts, several of which he had always in his stables after he
became an exile in France.
When William the Third ascended the throne, he not only added to the
plates given at different places in the kingdom, but made every attempt
at improving horsemanship. Though he was a monarch of considerable
austerity, this king once matched a horse of his own for a stake of two
thousand guineas.
Queen Anne continued the bounty of her predecessors, with the addition
of several plates. Her Consort, George, Prince of Denmark, is said to
have taken infinite delight in horse-racing, and to have obtained from
the Queen the grant of several plates allotted to different places.
Towards the beginning of the eighteenth century a statute of Queen Anne
was enacted with a view to the restriction of betting. Very great sums
of money changed hands owing to a match run at Newmarket between the
gentlemen of the South and those of the North. It is almost superfluous
to add that the proverbial shrewdness of the Northerner was fully
demonstrated on this occasion.
Queen Anne herself was, however, a supporter of the Turf, running
horses in her own name in matches at Newmarket and York.
Towards the close of the reign of George the First he discontinued the
plates, and in lieu of each gave the sum of one hundred guineas.
In the middle of the eighteenth century the Turf had fallen into some
disrepute, but the Duke of Cumberland did much to revive the glories
which had somewhat languished since the days of Charles II. He it was
who first instituted the race meeting at Ascot.
The Duke was a born gambler, and used when out hunting to play at
hazard with Lord Sandwich, throwing a main on every green hill and
under every green tree whenever the hounds checked.
Though cheery enough in the hunting field, he was anything but
tender-hearted when pursuing his avocation as a soldier; indeed his
severity at times became cruelty, which gained for him the nickname of
"the Butcher."
The day after the decisive battle of Culloden, in the year 1745, the
General, or as he was popularly styled, Duke William, was riding over
the scene of battle in company with his officers, among whom was
Colonel Wolfe, afterwards the hero of Quebec, then a young man. Among
the dead and dying stretched on the stricken field, one was so far
recovered as to be able to sit upright. Looking at the poor wretch,
the Duke said to the young Colonel by his side; "Wolfe, shoot me that
rebel." Wolfe glared back at his prince and commander, and, with a
flushed countenance which showed his indignation, replied: "Your Royal
Highness, I am a soldier, not an executioner." The Duke turned his back
upon Wolfe and did not utter another word.
If, however, the Duke, as the saying went, was a "very devil in his
boots," he was all right out of them and good-natured enough when
racing. Being at a Newmarket meeting just before the horses started, he
missed his pocket-book, containing some bank-notes. When the knowing
ones came about him and offered several bets, he said he had lost his
money already and could not afford to venture any more that day. The
horse which the Duke had intended to back was beaten, so he consoled
himself, as he said, with the thought that the loss of his pocket-book
only anticipated the evil, as if he had betted, he would have paid away
as much to the worthies of the Turf. The race, however, was no sooner
finished than a veteran half-pay officer presented His Royal Highness
with his pocket-book, saying he had found it near the stand, but had
not an opportunity of approaching him before. To this the Duke most
generously replied; "I am glad it has fallen into such good hands--keep
it. Had it not been for this accident, it would have been by this time
among the blacklegs and thieves of Newmarket."
In 1764 the Duke of Cumberland matched his famous horse, King Herod,
against the Duke of Grafton's Antinous for £1000 over the Beacon Course
at Newmarket. This contest excited intense interest, and more than
£100,000 is said to have changed hands over the victory of Herod, who
won by what was then called half a neck. In the annals of the Turf,
however, Duke William is best remembered on account of the fact that he
bred the greatest horse of all time, "Eclipse."
This animal, whose wonderful powers as a racer have won him
unparalleled fame, was got by Marske (a son of Squirt) out of Spiletta,
a bay mare foaled in 1749 by Regulus, a son of the Godolphin Arabian.
Eclipse was foaled in 1764, during the great eclipse of that year.
When, at the death of the Duke, His Royal Highness's stud was brought
to the hammer, Eclipse was purchased as a colt by Mr. Wildman (who
appears to have had some insight into his value), under very curious
circumstances. Mr. Wildman, who had, it was reported, been put into
possession of the extraordinary promise evinced by a particular
chestnut colt when a yearling, adopted the following questionable
measures in order to make sure of him. When he arrived at the place of
sale, he produced his watch and insisted that the auction had commenced
before the hour which had been announced in the advertisements, and
that the lots should be put up again. In order, however, to prevent a
dispute, it was agreed by the auctioneer and company that Mr. Wildman
should have his choice of any particular lot. By these means, it is
generally believed, he became possessed of Eclipse at the moderate
price of seventy or seventy-five guineas. Eclipse did not appear upon
the Turf till he was five years old, and so invincibly bad was his
temper that it was for some time uncertain whether he would not be
raced as a gelding. It is by mere accident, indeed, that the most
celebrated of English stallions was preserved to adorn the Calendar
with the glories of his descendants. In the neighbourhood of Epsom
Downs there lived a man of the name of Ellerton, who, however, was
better known by the sobriquet of Hilton, and who united the occupations
of poacher and rough-rider. To him, after all else had signally failed,
Eclipse was handed over as an incorrigible, and he had recourse to the
kill-or-cure system. He was at him day and night, frequently bringing
him home at daybreak, after a poaching excursion, with a load of
hares strung across his back. Twelve months of this regimen brought
him sufficiently to his senses to fit him to be brought to the post,
and once there, he ran because it was his pleasure to do so. Still
he never could be raced like any other horse. Fitzpatrick, who rode
him in almost all his races, never dared to hold him, or do more than
sit quiet in his saddle. All through his Turf career his temper was
wretched, and very seriously interfered with his value as a racer.
His extraordinary superiority was also so palpable that latterly no
odds could be got about him save by stratagems. One of these was very
clever. For a race in which there were several horses engaged, when
O'Kelly failed in getting any money on no-matter-what odds, he took
them to a large amount that he placed every horse in it! This he did by
naming Eclipse first and all the others nowhere, winning by his horse
distancing the field. In 1769, Wildman and O'Kelly were joint-owners
of Eclipse, the latter, however, soon after becoming the sole owner
at the price of 1750 guineas. At a late period of his life, when
an offer to purchase him was made to O'Kelly, these were the terms
demanded--£20,000 down, an annuity of £500 for his (O'Kelly's) life,
and the right of having three mares every year stinted to him as long
as he lived.
This "horse of horses" was short in the forehand, and high in the hips,
which gave elasticity to his speed. Upon dissection the muscles were
found to be of unparalleled size--a proof of the intimate relation
between muscular power and extraordinary swiftness. No horse of his day
would appear to have had the shadow of a chance against him.
Eclipse died February 26th, 1789, aged twenty-five, at Cannons, in
Middlesex, to which place he had been removed from Epsom about six
months previously, in a machine, constructed for the purpose, drawn by
two horses, and attended by a confidential groom. When his owner, old
O'Kelly, died at his house in Piccadilly on December 28th, 1787, he
bequeathed Eclipse and Dungannon to his brother Philip.
Another famous horse was Highflyer, which received his name from
having been foaled in a paddock, in which were a number of highflyer
walnut trees. He was named by Lord Bolingbroke at a large dinner-party
at Sir Charles Bunbury's. The horse in question was the cause of
considerable jealousy between Colonel O'Kelly, the owner of Eclipse,
and Mr. Tattersall, the founder of the celebrated institution at Hyde
Park Corner, whose prosperity was greatly increased by the purchase
of Highflyer. "The Hammer and Highflyer" indeed became a favourite
toast of the day. Both owners felt the necessity of crossing by the
blood of their respective stallions, but each was afraid of increasing
the celebrity of the other's horse thereby. The two men were widely
different in character. Colonel O'Kelly (of whom an account has already
been given) piqued himself upon being descended from the first race
of Milesian kings, although he had served for the greatest part of
his life some of the humblest offices. It was his boast that he bred
and ran his horses for fame. He certainly sacrificed many thousands
of pounds in aspiring to the glory of being the Jehu of the day. Mr.
Tattersall bred for profit. The former never sold anything before he
had trained and ran it at Newmarket; the latter never trained anything,
with the exception of one mare early in life, which was of no note.
The Irishman matched everything--the Lancashire man sold everything.
The one was hasty and impetuous in betting upon the descendants of
Eclipse. The other was cautious, and left it to those who had bought
them to risk their money upon the progeny of Highflyer. In a word, they
resembled each other in nothing, except, it was wickedly said, their
total ignorance of horses and extreme good fortune. Mr. Tattersall in
the decline of life was more than usually anxious that his son should
persevere in keeping stallions and breeding race-horses. O'Kelly
directed by his will that all his stud should be sold as soon as
possible after his death. Mr. Tattersall's son and heir sold the whole
stud after his death. O'Kelly's nephew and executor was obliged to sell
under the direction of the will, but he bought most of the horses for
his own use. He was a cultivated man, and had been well brought up by
his uncle.
Mr. Tattersall used to say that there was no part of Colonel O'Kelly's
conduct which he wished he had imitated except that in giving an
excellent education to his heir.
Mr. Tattersall was a very economical man. When Highflyer died, many
suggestions were made that the horse should be skinned and stuffed,
as had been done by Colonel O'Kelly in the case of Eclipse. Mr.
Tattersall, however, replied that he did not see the use of stuffing
him with hay after he was dead, as he could no longer cover; he had
stuffed him full enough with hay and corn when he was alive and
producing money. Mr. Tattersall had very practical ideas about such
things, and when inspecting his cattle whilst they were fattening, was
often overheard to say, "Eat away, my good creature! eat away, and get
fat soon. The butcher is waiting for you, and I want money."
Mr. Tattersall's prosperous career arose in a great measure from
a successful speculation in Scotland. Having heard that a Scotch
nobleman's stud was to be sold there, he applied to a friend to go his
halves in the purchase. "If you will find money, for I have none," said
he, "I will find skill, and you shall have a good thing." The sum was
deposited, and he went to the sale, partly by coach and partly on foot,
buying nearly all the horses for a trifle. Upon his return, he sold
a few at York for more money than the whole of them had cost, making
several hundred pounds out of the rest from purchasers at Newmarket and
in London. Mr. Tattersall used often to say this was the first money
he ever possessed above a few pounds. Having thus acquired a little
capital, he soon increased it by similar means, and also, of course, by
his business at Hyde Park Corner.
At that time, though sales of horses by auction were occasionally held,
there was no regular repository or fixed sales at stated periods,
the lack of which was much felt in the sporting world. Perceiving
that a golden opportunity lay ready to hand, Mr. Tattersall, who was
well-known to the gentlemen of the Turf and to the horse-dealers,
offered his services as an auctioneer, and solicited their patronage.
Lord Grosvenor warmly espoused his cause, and built for him the
extensive premises at Hyde Park Corner, where Mr. Tattersall died. His
success was astonishingly rapid. He soon enlarged the premises and
built stands for carriages, which were sold by private contract; as
well as kennels for hounds and other dogs, which were sold by auction.
He converted a part of his house into a tavern and coffee-house, and
fitted up two of the most elegant rooms in London for the use of the
Jockey Club, who held their meetings there for some years. He allotted
another apartment to the use of betting men. This was supported by
an annual subscription of a guinea from each member, and was called
the betting-room. Here prominent Turfites assembled every sale-day to
lay wagers on the events of future races, and here they met to pay
and receive the money won and lost at what were called country races,
in contradistinction to the races at Newmarket. His sales were not
confined to Hyde Park Corner; he constantly attended the Newmarket
meetings and the races at York, where he had considerable employment,
and thereby kept up his connection with the jockeys in different parts
of the kingdom, who sent their horses to him from all the various
districts.
Racing as carried on in the eighteenth century was on a very different
scale from that of the present day. Our ancestors were contented with
very small stakes and but few races in a day.
In 1755 there were but three meetings at Newmarket, which gave fifteen
racing days. Thirteen stakes were run for, the gross amount of which
was £1255. There were twenty heats.
Besides the stakes there were twenty-nine matches, which made the daily
average of races something over three.
[Illustration: E.O. ON A COUNTRY RACE-COURSE.
By Rowlandson.]
In those days noblemen and gentlemen met to enjoy each other's society
and test the merits of their horses rather than for purposes of
gain, the stakes being, from a pecuniary view, a matter of comparative
indifference.
At the small country meetings the racing was spread over a greater
space of time than at present; all of them lasted three days and many
a week. Dinners and balls were the order of the day, the race meeting
being an event which was looked forward to throughout the year.
A number of the more aristocratic spectators were mounted, and followed
the horses as they ran. So great, indeed, became the disorder caused at
race meetings by this riding with and after the horses during racing,
that the Chief Magistrate of one provincial town (who, it should be
added, had Irish blood in his veins) caused a placard to be posted up
just before the races, intimating "that no _gentleman_ would be allowed
to ride on the course, _except the horses_ that were to run."
Racing was formerly a very rough-and-ready affair, and much was
tolerated on a race-course which would be sternly dealt with to-day.
Gambling-booths and E.O. tables were easily to be found, whilst little
order was maintained on the course. At Tavistock Races in 1815, a
sailor with one arm, who had just been paid off, exhibited his skill in
horsemanship, to the no small annoyance of everybody, till at length,
checking his Bucephalus at full gallop, he was thrown with great
violence, by which his right leg was dreadfully fractured.
Cocked-hat races and other eccentric contests were not infrequent
features at race meetings. At Hereford races in 1822 a race between
three velocipedes, commonly called hobby-horses, created much mirth.
They were ridden by three men, dressed in scarlet, yellow, and white
jackets. Much skill was displayed, and every exertion used, with the
result that white won, scarlet and yellow being both upset, and the
riders each receiving a hearty bump, to the great diversion of all the
spectators.
The Turf of former days eased the aristocracy of a good deal of
money, and many a fine estate changed hands owing to the vicissitudes
of racing. Fox of course lost very large sums. He used to declare
after the defeat of his horses that they had as much bottom as other
people's, but that they were such slow, good animals that they never
went fast enough to tire themselves! Occasionally, however, he was
lucky. In April 1772 he won nearly £16,000--the greater part of which
was the result of bets against the celebrated Pincher, who lost the
match by only half-a-neck, two to one having been laid on him. At the
Spring meeting in 1789 Fox is also said to have won about £50,000; and
at the October meeting next year he realised £4000 by the sale of two
of his horses--Seagull and Chanticleer. In 1788 Fox and the Duke of
Bedford won eight thousand guineas between them at the Newmarket Spring
meeting. Fox and Lord Barrymore had a match for a large sum; this was
given as a dead heat, and the bets were off.
On taking office in 1783, Fox sold his horses, and erased his name
from several of the Clubs of which he was a member. In a short
time, however, he again purchased a stud, and in October attended
the Newmarket meeting, when a King's messenger appeared amongst the
sportsmen on the Heath in quest of the Minister, for whom he bore
despatches. The messenger, as was usual on these occasions, wore his
badge of office, the greyhound, and his arrival created quite a stir on
the course.
In 1790, Fox's horse, Seagull, won the Oatlands Stakes at Ascot of one
hundred guineas (nineteen subscribers), beating the Prince of Wales's
Escape, Serpent, and several of the very best horses of that year.
The Prince was much mortified at this, and immediately matched Magpie
against the winner, two miles, for five hundred guineas. This match, on
which immense sums were depending, was, four days later, won with ease
by Seagull. At this time Lord Foley and Mr. Fox raced together.
Lord Foley died in 1793; he entered upon the Turf with a clear £18,000
a year, and some £100,000 in ready money--he left it without ready
money, with an encumbered estate, and with a constitution injured by
cares and anxieties which embittered the end of his life.
Many other patricians were practically ruined on the Turf at about
the same time, some by continuous ill-luck, but more owing to the
machinations of the many doubtful characters who were experts at what
was then known as "throwing the bull over the bridge"--a cant phrase
formerly used by frequenters of the race-course to indicate a sporting
swindle.
The phrase in question, it may be added, had its origin in the cruel
pastime of bull-baiting. When such an orgy of cruelty was over, and
the militia of hell which had witnessed it surfeited with blood, the
carcass of the bull was dragged to a bridge, over which his quivering
remains were thrown into the water beneath!
Many were the queer freaks and fancies of the great pillars of the Turf
of the past. Sir Charles Bunbury, for instance, who trained his horses
privately under his own eye, made the lads who groomed them wear his
colours whilst at their task, in order to accustom the animals to the
racing jackets and prevent all chance of nervousness in public. His
horses were never allowed to be sweated or tried on a Good Friday, on
account of an accident which had on one of these anniversaries happened
to a couple of his racers, who had both fallen and broken their backs,
each jockey having got a fractured thigh.
All this, however, has been written of time after time; indeed, the
fascinating story of the Turf has found many admirable chroniclers.
Nevertheless, these have hardly touched upon some of the more obscure
figures, who seem to have escaped notice.
Such a one was Major Leeson, a well-known sporting character at the
close of the eighteenth century, who may be taken as typical of the
sharp racing man of humble origin, and who, having by astuteness
attained a certain prosperity, was eventually reduced to beggary by
the allurements of gambling. An Irishman of obscure birth, Mr. Leeson
originally obtained his commission through the patronage of a Scottish
nobleman, by whose munificence he was sent to school at Hampstead,
and afterwards to the French military academy of Angers. Whilst at
this seminary he fought a duel with a well-known baronet, and both
combatants displayed great courage. Leeson was soon after appointed a
lieutenant in a regiment of foot, in which he conducted himself as a
soldier and a gentleman.
During his military career, Leeson was especially popular with his men,
whose liking for their young officer almost amounted to adoration,
owing to his ardent championship of their interests. While they were
quartered in a country town, one of the sergeants, a sober, steady man,
was wantonly attacked by a blacksmith, who was the terror of the place.
The sergeant defended himself with great spirit as long as he was
able, but was obliged, after a hard contest, to yield to his athletic
antagonist. This intelligence reached Mr. Leeson's ears the next
morning, and without delay he set out in pursuit of the victor, whom he
found boasting of the triumph he had gained over the "lobster," as he
called the sergeant. The very expression kindled Leeson's indignation
into such a flame, that he aimed a blow at the fellow's temple, which
was warded off and returned with such force that Leeson lay for some
minutes extended on the ground. Leeson, however, renewed the attack;
and his onslaughts were made with such rapidity and success, that the
son of Vulcan was eventually stretched senseless on the ground. In
order to complete the triumph, Leeson placed him in a wheel-barrow;
and in this situation he was wheeled through all the town amidst the
acclamations of the populace. Soon after this, Mr. Leeson exchanged his
lieutenancy for a cornetcy of dragoons.
He now began to be attracted by the seductions of gaming and the Turf,
both of which exercised a fascination over his mind which he was unable
to resist. Fortune was kind, and an almost uninterrupted series of
success led him to Newmarket, where his evil genius, in the name of
good luck, converted him in a short time into a professional gambler.
At one time he had a complete stud at Newmarket; and his famous horse
Buffer carried off all the capital plates for three years and upwards,
though once beaten at Egham, when 15 to 1 was laid on it. Major
Leeson's discernment in racing matters soon became generally remarked,
and he was consulted by all the sharpest frequenters of the Turf on
critical occasions.