A FULL MEMBER OF THE JOCKEY CLUB.
I knew a great many men connected with the Turf, from the highest
to the humblest; but although I have spent the most agreeable hours
amongst them, there is little which, if written, would afford
amusement: everything in a story, a repartee, or a joke depends, like
a jewel, on its setting. At Lord Falmouth's, my old and esteemed
friend, I have spent many jovial and happy hours. He was one of the
most amiable of hosts, and of a boundless hospitality; ran many
distinguished horses, and won many big races. I used to drive with him
to see his horses at exercise before breakfast, and in his company
visited some of the most celebrated men of the day, who were also
amongst the most distinguished of the Turf. Amongst these was Prince
B----, whose fate was the saddest of all my reminiscences of the Turf.
I almost witnessed his death, for it took place nearly at the moment
of my taking leave of him at the Jockey Club. There was a flight of
stairs from where I stood with him, leading down to the luncheon-room,
and there he appears to have slipped and fallen.
I don't know that it was in consequence of this accident, or whether
it had anything to do with it, but I seemed after this sad event to
have practically broken my connection with the Turf, and yet perhaps I
was more intimately attached to it than ever, for Lord Rosebery asked
me (I being an honorary member of the Jockey Club) whether there was
any reason, so far as my judicial position was concerned, why I should
not be elected a _full member_. I said there was none. So his lordship
proposed me, and I was elected.
The only privilege I acquired by "full membership" was that I had
to pay ten guineas a year subscription instead of nothing. I almost
regularly had the honour of being invited, with other members of the
club, to the entertainment given by H.R.H. the Prince of Wales on the
Derby night--a festivity continued since his Majesty's accession to
the throne. Nor shall I forget the several occasions on which I have
had the honour to be the guest of his gracious Majesty at Sandringham;
and I mention them here to record my respectful gratitude for the
kindness and hospitality of their Majesties the King and Queen
whenever it has been my good fortune to be invited.
Speaking, however, of racing men, I have always thought that the
passion for gambling is one of the strongest propensities of our
nature, and once the mind is given to it there is no restraint
possible, either from law or pulpit. Its fascination never slackens,
and time never blunts the keen desire of self-gratification which it
engenders, while the grip with which it fastens upon us is as fast in
old age as in youth. It will absorb all other pleasures and pastimes.
I will give an instance of what I mean. There was a well-known
bookmaker of my acquaintance whose whole mind was devoted to this
passion; his lifetime was a gamble; everything seemed to be created
to make a bet upon. Do what he would, go where he would, his thoughts
were upon horse-racing.
I was staying with Charley Carew, the owner and occupier of Beddington
Park, with a small party of guests invited for shooting. One morning
there was to be a rabbit-killing expedition, and after a pretty good
morning's walk, I had a rest, and then leisurely went along towards
the trysting-place for lunch. It was a large oak tree, and as I came
up there was Hodgman, the bookie, who did not see me, walking round
the rabbits, which lay in rows, counting them, and muttering,
"_Two--four--twenty_," and so on up to a hundred. He then paused, and
after a while soliloquized, "Ah! fancy a hundred! One hundred _dead
uns_! What would I give for such a lot for the Chester Cup!"
His mind was not with the rabbits except in connection with his
betting-book on the Chester Cup. He was by no means singular except in
the manner of showing his propensity. The devotees of "Bridge" are all
Hodgmans in their way.
At the Benchers' table I was speaking of Clarkson in reference to the
Old Bailey. He had been with me in consultation in a very bad case. We
had not the ghost of a chance of winning it, and indicated our opinion
to that effect to the unhappy client.
He turned from us with a sad look, as if desperation had seized him,
and then, with tears in his eyes, asked Clarkson if he thought it
advisable for him to _surrender_ and take his trial.
"My good man," said Clarkson, "it is my duty as a loyal subject to
advise you to surrender and take your trial, _but, if I were in your
shoes_, I'll be damned if I would!"
The man, however, for some reason or other, _did_ surrender like a
good citizen, and the man who did not appear was his own leading
counsel Clarkson. He never even looked in, and the conduct of the
case, therefore, devolved on me. I did my best for him, however, and
succeeded. The man was acquitted.
Not content with this piece of good fortune, for such indeed it
was, he was ill-advised enough to bring an action for _malicious
prosecution_. Lord Denman tried it, and told him it was a most
impudent action, and he was astonished that he was not convicted.
During this conversation another, of no little importance, took place,
and Lord Westbury is reported to have said,--
"I did not assert that the House of Lords had abolished hell with
costs, although I have no doubt that the large majority would gladly
assent to any such decree--all, in fact, except the Bishops."
As I never listen to after-dinner theology, I forbear comment on this
subject; but before this time there had been a curious action brought
by a churchwarden against his vicar for refusing to administer the
Sacrament to him, on the ground that he did not believe in the
personality of the devil. After the decisions in the courts below, it
was finally determined by the House of Lords that the vicar was wrong.
Hence it was that Westbury was reported to have said that the House of
Lords had abolished hell with costs. "What I did say," said Westbury,
"was that the poor churchwarden who did not at one time believe in the
personality of the devil returned to the true orthodox Christian faith
when he received his attorney's bill."
Turning to me, his lordship said,--
"My dear Hawkins, you shall write your reminiscences, and, what is
more, they shall be printed in good type, and, what is more, the first
copy shall be directed to me."
And so it should be, if I only knew his address.