_Photo by W. A. Rouch._]
]
When the time comes to race on the July course, strong evidence of the
desire of the Jockey Club to attract the public will be found in the
shape of an entirely new stand, so large that the best wish I can offer
it is that the Club may live to see it filled. What the attraction is to
be that is to accomplish this is, however, not clear. I do not suppose
that the Jockey Club have a surprise in store in the shape of reduced
ring charges. So long as meetings, presenting very indifferent
programmes, are able to demand £1 per day, Newmarket cannot very well
lower its prices; not that I ever heard of any intention in this
direction, or that I should think it wise. If it were desirable to have
our race meetings all of a pattern it could only be on the lines of a
general levelling up.
But, within limits, it is convenient and proper that there should be
different grades of race meetings, and Newmarket, I affirm, will be best
served by always aiming at the highest. The “ifs” that contribute to
schemes for the resuscitation of Newmarket as a popular racing resort,
are numerous.
“If” the railway company would only reduce the fares, is one, for
instance. With Newmarket 69½ miles from London by rail, cheap fares do
not seem compatible, and I doubt whether a slight reduction in price
would make any difference. What we want and expect at Newmarket is good
racing; but although horses in plenty are trained on it, some people
say—the racing for the heath—more than is good often falls far below the
desired standard.
When we reassembled at the Craven Meeting, the attendance in the town
was very small. Delightful, of course, for those who were there, and one
could desire nothing better, from the point of view of personal comfort,
but, as evidence of the popularity of racing at headquarters, depressing
enough. The customary cards were gone through, and on the first day M.
Ephrussi, stealing a march by more than three months on his racing
compatriots, who may not run two-year-olds in their own country before
the first of August, won the Fitzwilliam Stakes with a very nice bay
filly by War Dance, out of Illusion, named Ile (not Isle as one wanted
to write it at first) de France, who beat the hare-like Satirical filly
by three-quarters of a length, with something to spare, besides. Melayr
failed by a neck to carry home 9 st. in the Crawford Handicap;
Challenger, carrying 9st. 5lb., failing by the same distance in the
Babraham Handicap, on the second day. Gingal, whose running was watched
with a view to the Two Thousand Guineas, won the Wood Ditton Stakes
easily enough, but had nothing to beat. The appearance of Cicero on the
third day in the Forty-Sixth Biennial made up for much. He was giving 10
lb. to his only opponent, Shilfa, and not more than 5 to 1 on had to be
laid. Cicero, looking the picture of health and spirits, romped home.
Five-and-twenty years ago anything in the shape of fault-finding with
Epsom would have been regarded as rank sacrilege against Turf
traditions. We took things as we found them there because we knew of
nothing better, but racing comforts have so increased that we now find
people either wondering why they ever go to Epsom, or congratulating
themselves that the meeting is over.
[Illustration:
FLAIR.
Winner of the One Thousand Guineas.
_Photo by W. A. Rouch._]
]
Visitors to Epsom divide themselves into two great parties, those that
enter the stand and those that stay outside. To the frequent racegoer
not much satisfaction is derivable from either course, but no doubt
those who rarely visit a racecourse may derive amusement from the
novelty of the scene on the hill, provided one does not take too much
note of the conglomeration of hopeless ne’er-do-weels and do-no-works
that assemble on the occasion, although, to their credit be it said,
they are merely passively and not actively objectionable. The contrast
between the thousands that spread themselves over the hill or range
themselves several deep along the rails, from Tattenham Corner to
winning post, and the attendance one meets with on Doncaster Town Moor
is great, for in the north the vast concourse is composed mainly of
factory hands and other genuine workers enjoying a holiday with money
that has been honourably earned, whereas at Epsom we find gathered
together the scum of the metropolis, attired mostly in rags, enjoying
one phase of the existence of the drone. This is the crowd which the
police officials would have us believe they cannot control to the extent
of keeping them off the course during the intervals between races. Any
one who has been caught on the course at the moment when the police have
had orders to clear it have had ample experience of the thoroughness
with which the constables do their duty. One might as well be a midnight
brawler as a belated strayer upon the fairway. The question one
naturally asks is, Why have the police the power to clear the course at
one moment and not at another? It may be as well to premise that the
divine right of the public to do as they please on Epsom Downs does not
exist, although the wisdom of the expediency with which the Lord of the
Manor, and those paying him rent, hide away their rights, need not be
doubted. If the Lord of the Manor had no rights to sell, it is not
likely that an astute body like the directorate of the Epsom Grand Stand
Company would pay him £20,000, as they did not long since, for another
lease of ninety-nine years. What the police authorities are so squeamish
about I cannot imagine. It would surely be much to their advantage if
they prevented people from congregating upon the course in the first
instance, instead of having to clear them off six or seven times in an
afternoon. It is not the police one thinks of in this connection, but of
the course, which starts a meeting as second to none in England, but by
the second day is trodden into a brown adamantine substance, an army of
boys having to be employed to clear up the paper, orange-peel, and other
rubbish that is distributed between each race. Another evil that arises
from the alternate action and inaction of the police is the
unpunctuality that is so much a feature at Epsom. People, knowing no
better, naturally blame the Clerk of the Scales, or the jockeys, or
both, when the horses are late in coming out, but in the majority of
cases the police are to blame, for the police refuse to allow the horses
to emerge from the paddock until, in their opinion, the course is clear.
The prevention of accident is a good cause, but if people were not
allowed upon the course there would be nothing to clear. It is not as
though, in being kept off the course, the rabble were being deprived of
anything. As a matter of fact, what there is to be seen, such as the
return of the horses to weigh in, could be very much better seen on a
clear course than on one covered by thousands of people, through whom
the horses find it difficult to pass.
As a spectacle much would be gained; and there is no reason whatever why
the racing should not be kept up to time.
The course was in almost perfect condition when racing began for the
Spring Meeting, thanks to the care that is expended upon the turf during
the entire twelve months. Harmony Hall should have won the Great
Metropolitan Stakes, but he made such a display of his inveterate
dislike to begin as to lose many lengths at the start, and, pluckily as
he ran the race, he just failed to make up the ground, Whinbloom,
purchased out of a Selling Plate, beating him by a neck. In the City and
Suburban Dean Swift at last put an end to a series of defeats with an
almost easy victory. Rightly or wrongly, he has been credited with the
faint heart which just fails when the supreme effort is required, but on
this occasion he was not pushed at all, coming right away in the
straight. Certainly he had never looked so well as now. In the sprinting
department Melayr won the Tadworth Handicap under st. 12 lb.
Perhaps the most interesting event at Sandown was the Stud Produce
Stakes, still worth a considerable sum in spite of the rule as to added
money; the winner netting £1,763 on this occasion. It was won by Auber,
a bay or brown colt by Islington out of Umbrosa, which cost Sir Edgar
Vincent only 165 gs. at Doncaster in September. He may or may not have
beaten anything of merit, but what struck me was the way he won. After
showing a bold front he appeared beaten to the world, but a hundred and
fifty yards or so from the finish Maher brought him with such a rush
that he won by a length. The sensational finish may have been due to
Maher, who did something very similar at Newbury when he brought up
Bridge of Canny in the nick of time to catch the Gressoney colt in the
Kingsclere Stakes. This kind of finish was common enough a few years
since, but it has apparently gone out of fashion, jockeys having learned
to win their races all the way from the fall of the flag. The Cobham
Two-year-old Maiden Plate introduced a youngster that will be heard of
again in Slieve Gallion, a black colt by Gallinule out of Reclusion,
whose appearance made a very great impression. Crossed soon after the
start, he made hay of the opposition when once set going. Slieve Gallion
is one of Captain Greer’s breeding, and is, of course, trained by Sam
Darling.
Although more people went to the First Spring Meeting at Newmarket than
to the Craven, the attendance was really much below par, that on the Two
Thousand Guineas day being the smallest I can remember. That the
three-year-olds are very ordinary had been agreed for some time. Black
Arrow was the paddock king amongst the dozen for the Two Thousand. For
him he behaved not so badly at the gate, although unruly enough to
disturb more than one of his opponents, and it seems clear that he and
his kidney should be made to stand behind the others at the start. He
got away well and ran generously for six furlongs, when he was beaten.
Moral: Black Arrow cannot stay. The charges of cowardice against him are
resented by his jockey and others who know, and henceforth he must be
regarded merely as a sprinter. Black Arrow beaten, we saw such as
Gorgos, Ramrod, Beppo and the Dame Agneta colt by Diamond Jubilee,
fighting out the issue, Gorgos, despite a bad swerve, getting the best
of it. With a man on his back The White Knight ran very differently in
the Three-year-old Handicap from what he did in the City and Suburban,
winning quite easily. Pretty Polly’s appearance in the March Stakes on
the third day was a very welcome interlude in a poor day’s racing. Had
she not won she would have been more or less disgraced; as it was she
cantered home in her own well-known style, and as she left the
weighing-in enclosure the people streamed home.
It was strange that Flair’s running last year had not created a greater
impression, for on last year’s form it was difficult to see what could
possibly beat her. Only slight odds had to be laid on, and after the
Bushes there was only one in it, Flair coming away at will. Melayr did
another good thing in winning the Bretby Handicap under 9 st. 7 lb. The
Ely Plate, the evening before, resulted in a catastrophe, it being too
readily taken for granted that Xeny had lost his form and so could be no
match at even weights for Imperial II.: 6 to 1 was laid on Imperial II.,
who, however, was always second best, Xeny beating him by a length.
Chester has been so phenomenally successful since it became an enclosed
meeting that a little adversity could be put up with, and it came this
year in the shape of a wet first day. The second, or Cup day, made
amends, however, and with a crowd about midway between 40,000 and 50,000
a few thousands decrease of the previous record could be endured. No
fault could be found with the result of the race which was quite in
accordance with anticipations, Feather Bed having shown double winning
form at Newbury, which made his chance second to none. Favoured by
nothing, he won in handsome style. The jockey of Torpoint, the second,
had got off a matter of 4 lb. overnight, and one has yet to be convinced
that this policy is a good one. There is no meeting in the Calendar more
redolent of life than Chester or one which gives visitors greater
pleasure. An innovation was the appearance on the inner portion of the
Roodee of motor omnibuses bringing visitors from distant places, _vice_
the horse vehicle.
Not since the Cambridgeshire has His Majesty been on an English
racecourse until he made a welcome reappearance on the first day of the
Kempton Park Jubilee meeting, this being the popular sub-title of the
more formal Spring Meeting. We did not see much, for there was little
interest in knowing that the moderate, though good-looking Ramrod was
from 5 lb. to 7 lb. better than Gingal who, not beaten before the start,
as he was in the Two Thousand, now had a fair chance of showing what he
is not. The Jubilee itself was a triumph for the “horses for courses
theory,” for Donnetta followed the footsteps of Avington and Sirenia in
adding this race to the Duke of York Stakes. It had already been
acknowledged that Donnetta is one of the truest-running animals ever
trained. Her limitations were shown in the City and Suburban, but at
Kempton she and Ambition ran that race over again to a pound, so far as
they were concerned, Ambition being beaten a couple of lengths at the
same weights. There were fewer shilling people than usual, but the
attendance in the members’ enclosure was very large.