‘Public sights, even though cruel, have been, through all ages, the
delight of the herd of mankind. The sessions were just over, and a
malefactor, who had been sentenced to death, was left by the judge for
execution. My father proposed that we should accompany the crowd, and
see what was to be seen. To this I consented; we followed the cart to
the gallows which stood at some distance from the town; and by talking
with each other, listening to remarks that were made, some of them
charitable, others tainted with a revengeful spirit, and by frequently
stopping to observe the agitation of the poor wretch whose life was so
soon to cease, I was thrown into a very pensive state of mind. However,
taking my father by the hand, I patiently waited the awful moment when
the cap was drawn over the culprit’s eyes, and he was suddenly lifted
into the air. Here his convulsive struggles, to my young and
apprehensive imagination, were intolerable: I soon turned my eyes away,
unable to look any longer; and my father seeing the pain I was in, said,
“Come, Tom, let us go.” “Oh yes, yes, father, as fast as we can,” was my
reply. The effect on my mind was such, that I made, as I suppose, the
first fixed resolution of my life, and declared it in a tone that
denoted how determined I was,—“Never again, while I live,” said I, “will
I go, and see a malefactor put to death.” Five or six and twenty years
afterwards, I thought it an act of duty to change this determination
when I was first at Paris in the year 1783. Through life, however, when
hanging, and the various ways in which men exterminate each other, have
been talked of, I have rarely, if ever, forgotten the poor dying culprit
of Nottingham.
‘It should seem that men have at all times had the good sense to
contrast their melancholy and often disgusting institutions, with others
of an opposite tendency; and that seldom fail in the very nature of them
to revive the sickening heart, and give it animation and delight.
‘The time of Nottingham Races drew near. My father was a great lover of
horses, as I have said; and from his discourse, as well as the little I
had seen of these noble animals, I was eager to become better acquainted
with them. My father recapitulated the different places at which he had
seen horses run, recounted the names of the famous winners he had known,
and filled up the picture with the accidents common on such occasions,
the amazing cunning of sharpers, the punishments inflicted on some of
their detected rogueries; the cries of the betting chair, the tumult of
the crowd when the horses were running, the danger of being too near the
course, with the difficulty of keeping it clear, the multitude of gaming
and drinking booths, and all that variety of delightful commotion which
was calculated to gratify my boyish fancy. The whole scene was like
enchantment; and all my wishes were now centered in its being realised.
‘Ten days or a fortnight before the time, straggling horses for the
different plates began to drop in; and of course to take their morning
and evening exercise on the course, where they might be seen. This was a
pleasure not to be neglected either by me or my father. I was delighted
with the fineness of their limbs, their glossy coats; and not a little
amused, when following them from exercise to the stable, if I were but
allowed to take a peep, and see how their body-clothes were managed, how
the currying and brushing of them was performed, their high straw beds
prepared, their long hay carefully chosen, and their oats sifted and
re-sifted. Every thing about a race-horse is precious: but I pitied them
for being so much stinted in their food, and especially when my father
told me it must daily decrease, and that the night before they started
they must fast.
‘But the great and glorious part which Nottingham held in the annals of
racing this year, arose from the prize of the King’s plate, which was to
be contended for by the two horses which every body I heard speak
considered as undoubtedly the best in England, and perhaps equal to any
that had ever been known, Childers alone excepted. Their names were,
Careless and Atlas. Careless, who had been bred by a worthy and popular
Baronet of the county (I forget his name) was the decided favourite of
every man in Nottingham, gentle or simple. The prowess and equal, if not
superior, merit of Atlas, were very boldly asserted by strangers, and
particularly by jockeys, betters, and men of the turf. If I do not
mistake, Atlas was the property of, and bred by the Duke of Devonshire.
However, he had received a previous defeat in running against Careless;
and this defeat the men of Nottingham considered as little less than a
certainty of future victory. The opposite party affirmed that Atlas,
being a remarkably powerful horse (I think seventeen hands high), had
not then attained his full force. There was a story in circulation
concerning him, which if true deserved to be remembered. He was a full
bred horse out of the Duke’s own stud, and consequently was intended for
training: but being unwieldy when foaled, and as he grew up becoming
still more so, he was rejected on account of his size and clumsiness,
and banished to the cart breed. Among these inferiors he remained, till
by some accident, either of playfulness or fright, several of them
started together, and the vast advantage of Atlas in speed happening to
be noticed, it was then thought proper by the grooms to restore him to
his blood companions.
‘Of those who in the least amused or busied themselves with such
affairs, Careless and Atlas occupied the whole discourse. Many people
who seemed to reason plausibly enough on the subject, affirmed that if
any thing lost the race to Careless, it would be the inferior skill of
his rider, by whom neither the ground nor the powers of the horse would
be well economized; he was merely the groom of a country gentleman. When
the race was over, these accusations were vociferated with wearisome
reiteration.
‘On the appointed day, however, they both started for the king’s plate;
and I believe there was scarcely a heart on the race-course, that did
not swell with hope and fear. As for my own little one, it was all in
rapture for Careless. He was so finely made, his coat was so bright, his
eye so beaming, his limbs so animated, and every motion seemed so
evidently to declare, “I can fly, if I please,” that I could not endure
the thought of his being conquered. Alas for the men of Nottingham,
conquered he was! I forget whether it was at two or three heats, but
there was many an empty purse on that night, and many a sorrowful heart.