‘The time I remained at Newmarket, was upwards of two years and a half;
during which many things occurred worthy of remembrance; and though in
their nature dissimilar, yet all tending to have that influence on
character, by which, if my poor philosophy holds good, character is
progressively formed. Instead of relating these different accidents as
they occurred, I shall rather endeavour to collect them into classes,
beginning with those that immediately belong to the business of a
jockey.
‘I have already remarked how necessary it is for the best horseman never
to be off his guard. At the time the little accident I am going to
relate happened, and which I could not but then consider as rather
disgraceful, I was so persuaded of being always on the alert, and of my
power of instantaneously recovering my seat, that I supposed what
followed to be nearly an impossibility.—The horse that I then rode
happened to be unwell; and did not take his morning and evening exercise
with the others. I was therefore ordered to walk him out a couple of
hours in the middle of the day, to canter him gently, give him a certain
quantity of water, and canter and walk him home again. The horse was by
no means apt to start or play tricks of an uncommon kind: he was besides
unwell, and dull in spirits, and I was more than usually unsuspicious of
accident. After a walk, and a very gentle gallop, I brought him to
water. Our watering troughs stood by a pump under the Devil’s Ditch, on
the side next to Newmarket. Not foreseeing any possible danger, I held
the reins quite slack, and did not sit upright in my seat, but rested on
one thigh; when suddenly, without any warning, a grey rook, of the
species common to that plain, ascended on the wing up the ditch within
half a yard of the ground, and in a direction that would scarcely have
missed the horse’s head. At this sudden apparition, an arrow from a bow
could hardly exceed the velocity with which he darted round to avoid his
enemy; and the impulse was so unforeseen, and so irresistible, that I
and my whole stock of self-confidence, and self-conceit, lay humbled in
the dust. I was greatly afraid, lest my disgrace should be witnessed by
any one, and particularly that the horse should make for home: however,
his fright ceasing, and his health not disposing him to be wanton, he
easily suffered himself to be caught, and mounted, and my honour
received no stain.
‘I felt this accident the more, because I was at this very time
receiving new marks of confidence in my talents. A horse bred in Ireland
had been brought into our train: John Watson did not think proper to let
a boy of heavy weight back him, and among those of light weight, I was
the only one in whom he durst confide. It was for this horse that I
quitted the Dun horse, on whose back I had obtained such praise, and
upon him the other boy of the name of Tom was mounted, but only for two
or three mornings. Dun immediately discovered he was Tom’s master, and
would not keep up in the gallop, but would go what pace he pleased: if
struck, he began to plunge, kick, and rear, threw his rider, and made
all the boys laugh and hoot at him, and thoroughly exposed him to
mortification.—I was frequently obliged to change my horse, but it was
always for one more difficult to manage; and not only so, but I
generally preserved an honour that had been early conferred on me, that
of leading the gallop, let me ride what horse I would. At one of these
changes I was transferred to the back of a little mare, which had long
been ridden by Jack Clarke, who was wanted for a horse of more power,
but of less spirit. On her too I led the gallop. She was not so much
vicious as full of play. Whenever I pleased, when the gallop was begun,
by a turn of the arm and a pretended flourish, I could make her start
out of the line, clap her head between her legs, fling her hind heels in
the air, and begin to cut capers. This excitement was generally
sufficient for the whole string, who would start off one after another,
each playing his gambols, and perhaps, one or two of them throwing their
riders. Under such a temptation for triumph, I was perhaps as prudent as
could be expected from a boy of my age; but when John Watson did not
happen to be with us, I could not always resist the vanity of shewing
that I was equal to the best of them, and quite before the majority.
When John was absent, the bad riders would sometimes, before I began the
gallop, very humbly intreat me not to play them any tricks; and when
they did, I was good-natured enough to comply.
‘In every stud of horses, there are frequent changes; and as their
qualities are discovered, one horse is rejected, and a colt or perhaps a
stranger bought and admitted. It happened on such an occasion, that a
little horse was brought us from another stud, whence he had been
rejected for being unmanageable. He had shewn himself restive, and
besides the snaffle, was ridden in a check-rein. I was immediately
placed on his back, and what seemed rather more extraordinary, ordered
to lead the gallop, as usual. I do not know how it happened, but under
me he shewed very little disposition to be refractory, and whenever the
humour occurred, it was soon overcome: that he was however watchful for
an opportunity to do mischief, the following incident will discover. Our
time for hard exercise had begun perhaps a fortnight or three weeks. As
that proceeds, the boys are less cautious, each having less suspicion of
his horse. I was leading the gallop one morning, and had gone more than
half the way towards the foot of Cambridge hill, when something induced
me to call and speak to a boy behind me; for which purpose I rather
unseated myself, and as I looked back, rested on my left thigh. The arch
traitor no sooner felt the precarious seat I had taken, than he suddenly
plunged from the path, had his head between his legs, his heels in the
air, and exerting all his power of bodily contortion, flung me from the
saddle with only one foot in the stirrup, and both my legs on the off
side. I immediately heard the whole set of boys behind shouting
triumphantly, “A calf, a calf!” a phrase of contempt for a boy that is
thrown. Though the horse was then in the midst of his wild antics, and
increasing his pace to full speed, as far as the tricks he was playing
would permit, still finding I had a foot in the stirrup, I replied to
their shouts by a whisper to myself, “It is no calf yet.” The horse took
the usual course, turned up Cambridge hill, and now rather increased his
speed than his mischievous tricks. This opportunity I took with that
rashness of spirit which is peculiar to boys; and notwithstanding the
prodigious speed and irregular motion of the horse, threw my left leg
over the saddle. It was with the utmost difficulty I could preserve my
balance, but I did: though by this effort I lost hold of the reins, both
my feet were out of the stirrups, and the horse for a moment was
entirely his own master. But my grand object was gained: I was once more
firmly seated, the reins and the stirrups were recovered. In a
twinkling, the horse, instead of being pulled up, was urged to his
utmost speed, and when he came to the end of the gallop, he stopped of
himself with a very good will, as he was heartily breathed. The short
exclamations of the boys at having witnessed what they thought an
impossibility, were the gratification I received, and the greatest,
perhaps, that could be bestowed.
‘I once saw an instance of what may be called the grandeur of alarm in a
horse. In winter, during short exercise, I was returning one evening on
the back of a hunter, that was put in training for the hunter’s plate.
There had been some little rain, and the channel always dry in summer,
was then a small brook. As I must have rubbed his legs dry if wetted, I
gave him the rein, and made him leap the brook, which he understood as a
challenge for play, and beginning to gambol, after a few antics he
reared very high, and plunging forward with great force, alighted with
his fore-feet on the edge of a deep gravel-pit half filled with water,
so near that a very few inches further he must have gone headlong down.
His first astonishment and fear were so great, that he stood for some
time breathless and motionless: then, gradually recollecting himself,
his back became curved, his ears erect, his hind and fore leg in a
position for sudden retreat; his nostrils from an inward snort burst
into one loud expression of horror; and rearing on his hind legs, he
turned short round, expressing all the terrors he had felt by the utmost
violence of plunging, kicking, and other bodily exertions. I was not
quite so much frightened as he had been, but I was heartily glad when he
became quiet again, that the accident had been no worse. The only little
misfortune I had was the loss of my cap, and being obliged to ride back
some way in order to recover it.
‘Among the disagreeable, and in some degree dangerous accidents that
happened to me, was the following. We had an old grey blood gelding
touched in his wind, called Puff, on which John Watson generally used to
ride. He had some vicious tricks, and the thing that made him dangerous
was, that, in the jockey’s phrase, he had lost his mouth, that is, the
bit could make no impression on him, and he could run away with the
strongest rider: but the whim did not often take him. The watering
troughs were filled once a day, and as they were about a mile and a half
distant, each lad performed that duty in turns, being obliged to walk
for that purpose to the Devil’s Ditch and back. One day, when it was my
turn, old Puff being in the stable, John Watson allowed me to shorten my
task by a ride, of which I was very glad, and Puff was soon brought out.
For the office of filling the troughs, it was necessary to take a pail,
and accordingly I flung one with the rim over my right shoulder, and
under my left arm, as was the way with us when we walked. I then
mounted, but had not gone far, when I found Mr Puff was determined on
one of his frolics. He set off at a good round gallop. This I should not
have regarded in the least, had it not been for the pail at my back. But
he was a tall horse, the ruts before the race-course began were
numerous, rough, and often narrow, and he amused himself with crossing
them; so that the rim of the pail was very disagreeable, and now and
then hurt my back severely. I foresaw, however, that my only remedy was
to tire him out at his own diversion. As soon, therefore, as I had an
opportunity, I turned him upon the turf, by which I avoided the worst
jolts of the pail; and instead of struggling with him, I gave him head,
hurried him forward as fast as he could go, passed along the side called
the flat, turned in beside the Devil’s Ditch, forbore to push him when
we came to the watering troughs, but found the obstinate old devil was
resolved not to stop. I then took him full gallop up Cambridge hill, and
into Newmarket, supposing his own home would satisfy him. But no! away
he went into the town, while some boys belonging to other stables
exclaimed, “Here is old Puff running away with Watson’s Tom.” At a
certain distance down the main street, was a street on the left, by
which making a little circle, I might again bring his head homewards,
and that road I prevailed on him to take; but as he was not easily
guided, he thought proper to gallop on the causeway, till he came to a
post which bent inwards towards the wall, so much that it was doubtful
whether his body would pass. He stopped short at a single step, but
luckily I had foreseen this, or I should certainly have been pitched
over his neck, and probably my back would have been broken, had I not
employed both hands with all my force to counteract the shock. Having
measured the distance with his eye, he saw he could pass, which to me
was a new danger: my legs would one or both of them have wanted room,
but with the same juvenile activity, I raised them on the withers, and
away again we went, mutually escaping unhurt. By this time, however, my
gentleman was wearied; in two minutes we were at home, and there he
thought proper once more to stop. The worst of it, however, was, that I
had still to water my troughs. I shall conclude this chapter with a fact
which may deserve the attention of the philosopher, as an instance of
deep feeling, great sagacity, and almost unconquerable ambition among
horses; and which goes nearly to prove, that they themselves understand
why they contend with each other. I have mentioned a vicious horse, of
the name of Forester, that would obey no boy but Tom Watson: he was
about ten or eleven years old, and had been a horse of some repute, but
unfortunately his feet foundered, for the cure of which he was suffered
to remain a great part of his time at grass. However, when I had been
about a year and a half at Newmarket, Captain Vernon thought proper to
match him against Elephant, a horse belonging to Sir Jennison Shaftoe,
whom by the bye I saw ride this famous match. Forester, therefore, had
been taken up, and kept in training a sufficient time to qualify him to
run this match; but it was evident that his legs and feet were far from
being in that sound state which such an exertion required, so that we
concluded he must be beaten, for the reputation of Elephant arose out of
his power rather than his speed. Either I mistake, or the match was a
four mile heat over the strait course; and the abilities of Forester
were such, that he passed the flat, and ascended the hill as far as the
distance post, nose to nose with Elephant; so that John Watson who rode
him began to conceive hopes. Between this and the chair, Elephant, in
consequence of hard whipping, got some little way before him, while
Forester exerted every possible power to recover at least his lost
equality; till finding all his efforts ineffectual, he made one sudden
spring, and caught Elephant by the under-jaw, which he griped so
violently as to hold him back; nor was it without the utmost difficulty
that he could be forced to quit his hold. Poor Forester, he lost; but he
lost most honourably! Every experienced groom, we were told, thought it
a most extraordinary circumstance. John Watson declared he had never in
his life been more surprised by the behaviour of a horse.