About this time a steeple-chase in the West of England had attracted
considerable attention. This sport was then of recent introduction in
England, and is, in fact, an importation of Irish growth, although it
has flourished in our soil. A young guardsman, who was then a guest at
the Castle, and who had been in garrison in Ireland, had some experience
of this pastime in the Kildare country, and he proposed that they should
have a steeple-chase at Coningsby. This was a suggestion very agreeable
to the Marquess of Beaumanoir, celebrated for his feats of horsemanship,
and, indeed, to most of the guests. It was agreed that the race should
come off at once, before any of the present company, many of whom
gave symptoms of being on the wing, had quitted the Castle. The young
guardsman and Mr. Guy Flouncey had surveyed the country and had selected
a line which they esteemed very appropriate for the scene of action.
From a hill of common land you looked down upon the valley of Coningsby,
richly cultivated, deeply ditched, and stiffly fenced; the valley was
bounded by another rising ground, and the scene was admirably calculated
to give an extensive view to a multitude.
The distance along the valley was to be two miles out, and home again;
the starting-post being also the winning-post, and the flags, which were
placed on every fence which the horses were to pass, were to be passed
on the left hand of the rider both going and coming; so that although
the horses had to leap the same fences forward and backward, they
could not come over the same place twice. In the last field before they
turned, was a brook seventeen feet clear from side to side, with good
taking off both banks. Here real business commenced.
Lord Monmouth highly approved the scheme, but mentioned that the stakes
must be moderate, and open to the whole county. The neighbourhood had
a week of preparation, and the entries for the Coningsby steeple-chase
were numerous. Lord Monmouth, after a reserve for his own account,
placed his stable at the service of his guests. For himself, he offered
to back his horse, Sir Robert, which was to be ridden by his grandson.
Now, nothing was spoken or thought of at Coningsby Castle except the
coming sport. The ladies shared the general excitement. They embroidered
handkerchiefs, and scarfs, and gloves, with the respective colours of
the rivals, and tried to make jockey-caps. Lady St. Julians postponed
her intended departure in consequence. Madame Colonna wished that some
means could be contrived by which they might all win.
Sidonia, with the other competitors, had ridden over the ground and
glanced at the brook with the eye of a workman. On his return to the
Castle he sent a despatch for some of his stud.
Coningsby was all anxiety to win. He was proud of the confidence of
his grandfather in backing him. He had a powerful horse and a firstrate
fencer, and he was resolved himself not to flinch. On the night before
the race, retiring somewhat earlier than usual to his chamber, he
observed on his dressing-table a small packet addressed to his name, and
in an unknown handwriting. Opening it, he found a pretty racing-jacket
embroidered with his colours of pink and white. This was a perplexing
circumstance, but he fancied it on the whole a happy omen. And who was
the donor? Certainly not the Princess Lucretia, for he had observed her
fashioning some maroon ribbons, which were the colours of Sidonia. It
could scarcely be from Mrs. Guy Flouncey. Perhaps Madame Colonna to
please the Marquess? Thinking over this incident he fell asleep.
The morning before the race Sidonia’s horses arrived. All went to
examine them at the stables. Among them was an Arab mare. Coningsby
recognised the Daughter of the Star. She was greatly admired for her
points; but Guy Flouncey whispered to Mr. Melton that she never could do
the work.
‘But Lord Beaumanoir says he is all for speed against strength in these
affairs,’ said Mr. Melton.
Guy Flouncey smiled incredulously.
The night before the race it rained rather heavily.
‘I take it the country will not be very like the Deserts of Arabia,’
said Mr. Guy Flouncey, with a knowing look to Mr. Melton, who was noting
a bet in his memorandum-book.
The morning was fine, clear, and sunny, with a soft western breeze. The
starting-post was about three miles from the Castle; but, long before
the hour, the surrounding hills were covered with people; squire and
farmer; with no lack of their wives and daughters; many a hind in his
smock-frock, and many an ‘operative’ from the neighbouring factories.
The ‘gentlemen riders’ gradually arrived. The entries were very
numerous, though it was understood that not more than a dozen would
come to the post, and half of these were the guests of Lord Monmouth.
At half-past one the _cortège_ from the Castle arrived, and took up the
post which had been prepared for them on the summit of the hill. Lord
Monmouth was much cheered on his arrival. In the carriage with him
were Madame Colonna and Lady St. Julians. The Princess Lucretia, Lady
Gaythorp, Mrs. Guy Flouncey, accompanied by Lord Eskdale and other
cavaliers, formed a brilliant company. There was scarcely a domestic
in the Castle who was not there. The comedians, indeed, did not care to
come, but Villebecque prevailed upon Flora to drive with him to the race
in a buggy he borrowed of the steward.
The start was to be at two o’clock. The ‘gentlemen jockeys’ are
mustered. Never were riders mounted and appointed in better style. The
stewards and the clerk of the course attend them to the starting-post.
There they are now assembled. Guy Flouncey takes up his stirrup-leathers
a hole; Mr. Melton looks at his girths. In a few moments, the
irrevocable monosyllable will be uttered.
The bugle sounds for them to face about; the clerk of the course sings
out, ‘Gentlemen, are you all ready?’ No objection made, the word given
to go, and fifteen riders start in excellent style.
Prince Colonna, who rode like Prince Rupert, took the lead, followed
close by a stout yeoman on an old white horse of great provincial
celebrity, who made steady running, and, from his appearance and action,
an awkward customer. The rest, with two exceptions, followed in a
cluster at no great distance, and in this order they continued, with
very slight variation, for the first two miles, though there were
several ox-fences, and one or two of them remarkably stiff. Indeed, they
appeared more like horses running over a course than over a country. The
two exceptions were Lord Beaumanoir on his horse Sunbeam, and Sidonia on
the Arab. These kept somewhat slightly in the rear.
Almost in this wise they approached the dreaded brook. Indeed, with the
exception of the last two riders, who were about thirty yards behind, it
seemed that you might have covered the rest of the field with a sheet.
They arrived at the brook at the same moment: seventeen feet of water
between strong sound banks is no holiday work; but they charged with
unfaltering intrepidity. But what a revolution in their spirited order
did that instant produce! A masked battery of canister and grape could
not have achieved more terrible execution. Coningsby alone clearly
lighted on the opposing bank; but, for the rest of them, it seemed for a
moment that they were all in the middle of the brook, one over another,
splashing, kicking, swearing; every one trying to get out and keep
others in. Mr. Melton and the stout yeoman regained their saddles and
were soon again in chase. The Prince lost his horse, and was not alone
in his misfortune. Mr. Guy Flouncey lay on his back with a horse across
his diaphragm; only his head above the water, and his mouth full of
chickweed and dockleaves. And if help had not been at hand, he and
several others might have remained struggling in their watery bed for
a considerable period. In the midst of this turmoil, the Marquess and
Sidonia at the same moment cleared the brook.
Affairs now became interesting. Here Coningsby took up the running,
Sidonia and the Marquess lying close at his quarters. Mr. Melton had
gone the wrong side of a flag, and the stout yeoman, though close at
hand, was already trusting much to his spurs. In the extreme distance
might be detected three or four stragglers. Thus they continued until
within three fields of home. A ploughed field finished the old white
horse; the yeoman struck his spurs to the rowels, but the only effect
of the experiment was, that the horse stood stock-still. Coningsby,
Sidonia, and the Marquess were now all together. The winning-post is in
sight, and a high and strong gate leads to the last field. Coningsby,
looking like a winner, gallantly dashed forward and sent Sir Robert at
the gate, but he had over-estimated his horse’s powers at this point of
the game, and a rattling fall was the consequence: however, horse and
rider were both on the right side, and Coningsby was in his saddle and
at work again in a moment. It seemed that the Marquess was winning.
There was only one more fence; and that the foot people had made a
breach in by the side of a gate-post, and wide enough, as was said, for
a broad-wheeled waggon to travel by. Instead of passing straight over
this gap, Sunbeam swerved against the gate and threw his rider. This
was decisive. The Daughter of the Star, who was still going beautifully,
pulling double, and her jockey sitting still, sprang over the gap
and went in first; Coningsby, on Sir Robert, being placed second. The
distance measured was about four miles; there were thirty-nine leaps;
and it was done under fifteen minutes.
Lord Monmouth was well content with the prowess of his grandson, and
his extreme cordiality consoled Coningsby under a defeat which was very
vexatious. It was some alleviation that he was beaten by Sidonia.
Madame Colonna even shed tears at her young friend’s disappointment, and
mourned it especially for Lucretia, who had said nothing, though a flush
might be observed on her usually pale countenance. Villebecque, who had
betted, was so extremely excited by the whole affair, especially during
the last three minutes, that he quite forgot his quiet companion, and
when he looked round he found Flora fainting.
‘You rode well,’ said Sidonia to Coningsby; ‘but your horse was more
strong than swift. After all, this thing is a race; and, notwithstanding
Solomon, in a race speed must win.’