This "horse of horses" was short in the forehand, and high in the hips, which gave elasticity to his speed. Upon dissection the muscles were found to be of unparalleled size—a proof of the intimate relation between muscular power and extraordinary swiftness. No horse of his day would appear to have had the shadow of a chance against him.

Eclipse died February 26th, 1789, aged twenty-five, at Cannons, in Middlesex, to which place he had been removed from Epsom about six months previously, in a machine, constructed for the purpose, drawn by two horses, and attended by a confidential groom. When his owner, old O'Kelly, died at his house in Piccadilly on December 28th, 1787, he bequeathed Eclipse and Dungannon to his brother Philip.

Another famous horse was Highflyer, which received his name from having been foaled in a paddock, in which were a number of highflyer walnut trees. He was named by Lord Bolingbroke at a large dinner-party at Sir Charles Bunbury's. The horse in question was the cause of considerable jealousy between Colonel O'Kelly, the owner of Eclipse, and Mr. Tattersall, the founder of the celebrated institution at Hyde Park Corner, whose prosperity was greatly increased by the purchase of Highflyer. "The Hammer and Highflyer" indeed became a favourite toast of the day. Both owners felt the necessity of crossing by the blood of their respective stallions, but each was afraid of increasing the celebrity of the other's horse thereby. The two men were widely different in character. Colonel O'Kelly (of whom an account has already been given) piqued himself upon being descended from the first race of Milesian kings, although he had served for the greatest part of his life some of the humblest offices. It was his boast that he bred and ran his horses for fame. He certainly sacrificed many thousands of pounds in aspiring to the glory of being the Jehu of the day. Mr. Tattersall bred for profit. The former never sold anything before he had trained and ran it at Newmarket; the latter never trained anything, with the exception of one mare early in life, which was of no note. The Irishman matched everything—the Lancashire man sold everything. The one was hasty and impetuous in betting upon the descendants of Eclipse. The other was cautious, and left it to those who had bought them to risk their money upon the progeny of Highflyer. In a word, they resembled each other in nothing, except, it was wickedly said, their total ignorance of horses and extreme good fortune. Mr. Tattersall in the decline of life was more than usually anxious that his son should persevere in keeping stallions and breeding race-horses. O'Kelly directed by his will that all his stud should be sold as soon as possible after his death. Mr. Tattersall's son and heir sold the whole stud after his death. O'Kelly's nephew and executor was obliged to sell under the direction of the will, but he bought most of the horses for his own use. He was a cultivated man, and had been well brought up by his uncle.

Mr. Tattersall used to say that there was no part of Colonel O'Kelly's conduct which he wished he had imitated except that in giving an excellent education to his heir.

Mr. Tattersall was a very economical man. When Highflyer died, many suggestions were made that the horse should be skinned and stuffed, as had been done by Colonel O'Kelly in the case of Eclipse. Mr. Tattersall, however, replied that he did not see the use of stuffing him with hay after he was dead, as he could no longer cover; he had stuffed him full enough with hay and corn when he was alive and producing money. Mr. Tattersall had very practical ideas about such things, and when inspecting his cattle whilst they were fattening, was often overheard to say, "Eat away, my good creature! eat away, and get fat soon. The butcher is waiting for you, and I want money."

Mr. Tattersall's prosperous career arose in a great measure from a successful speculation in Scotland. Having heard that a Scotch nobleman's stud was to be sold there, he applied to a friend to go his halves in the purchase. "If you will find money, for I have none," said he, "I will find skill, and you shall have a good thing." The sum was deposited, and he went to the sale, partly by coach and partly on foot, buying nearly all the horses for a trifle. Upon his return, he sold a few at York for more money than the whole of them had cost, making several hundred pounds out of the rest from purchasers at Newmarket and in London. Mr. Tattersall used often to say this was the first money he ever possessed above a few pounds. Having thus acquired a little capital, he soon increased it by similar means, and also, of course, by his business at Hyde Park Corner.

At that time, though sales of horses by auction were occasionally held, there was no regular repository or fixed sales at stated periods, the lack of which was much felt in the sporting world. Perceiving that a golden opportunity lay ready to hand, Mr. Tattersall, who was well-known to the gentlemen of the Turf and to the horse-dealers, offered his services as an auctioneer, and solicited their patronage. Lord Grosvenor warmly espoused his cause, and built for him the extensive premises at Hyde Park Corner, where Mr. Tattersall died. His success was astonishingly rapid. He soon enlarged the premises and built stands for carriages, which were sold by private contract; as well as kennels for hounds and other dogs, which were sold by auction. He converted a part of his house into a tavern and coffee-house, and fitted up two of the most elegant rooms in London for the use of the Jockey Club, who held their meetings there for some years. He allotted another apartment to the use of betting men. This was supported by an annual subscription of a guinea from each member, and was called the betting-room. Here prominent Turfites assembled every sale-day to lay wagers on the events of future races, and here they met to pay and receive the money won and lost at what were called country races, in contradistinction to the races at Newmarket. His sales were not confined to Hyde Park Corner; he constantly attended the Newmarket meetings and the races at York, where he had considerable employment, and thereby kept up his connection with the jockeys in different parts of the kingdom, who sent their horses to him from all the various districts.

Racing as carried on in the eighteenth century was on a very different scale from that of the present day. Our ancestors were contented with very small stakes and but few races in a day.

In 1755 there were but three meetings at Newmarket, which gave fifteen racing days. Thirteen stakes were run for, the gross amount of which was £1255. There were twenty heats.

Besides the stakes there were twenty-nine matches, which made the daily average of races something over three.

race course

In those days noblemen and gentlemen met to enjoy each other's society and test the merits of their horses rather than for purposes of gain, the stakes being, from a pecuniary view, a matter of comparative indifference.

At the small country meetings the racing was spread over a greater space of time than at present; all of them lasted three days and many a week. Dinners and balls were the order of the day, the race meeting being an event which was looked forward to throughout the year.

A number of the more aristocratic spectators were mounted, and followed the horses as they ran. So great, indeed, became the disorder caused at race meetings by this riding with and after the horses during racing, that the Chief Magistrate of one provincial town (who, it should be added, had Irish blood in his veins) caused a placard to be posted up just before the races, intimating "that no gentleman would be allowed to ride on the course, except the horses that were to run."

Racing was formerly a very rough-and-ready affair, and much was tolerated on a race-course which would be sternly dealt with to-day. Gambling-booths and E.O. tables were easily to be found, whilst little order was maintained on the course. At Tavistock Races in 1815, a sailor with one arm, who had just been paid off, exhibited his skill in horsemanship, to the no small annoyance of everybody, till at length, checking his Bucephalus at full gallop, he was thrown with great violence, by which his right leg was dreadfully fractured.

Cocked-hat races and other eccentric contests were not infrequent features at race meetings. At Hereford races in 1822 a race between three velocipedes, commonly called hobby-horses, created much mirth. They were ridden by three men, dressed in scarlet, yellow, and white jackets. Much skill was displayed, and every exertion used, with the result that white won, scarlet and yellow being both upset, and the riders each receiving a hearty bump, to the great diversion of all the spectators.

The Turf of former days eased the aristocracy of a good deal of money, and many a fine estate changed hands owing to the vicissitudes of racing. Fox of course lost very large sums. He used to declare after the defeat of his horses that they had as much bottom as other people's, but that they were such slow, good animals that they never went fast enough to tire themselves! Occasionally, however, he was lucky. In April 1772 he won nearly £16,000—the greater part of which was the result of bets against the celebrated Pincher, who lost the match by only half-a-neck, two to one having been laid on him. At the Spring meeting in 1789 Fox is also said to have won about £50,000; and at the October meeting next year he realised £4000 by the sale of two of his horses—Seagull and Chanticleer. In 1788 Fox and the Duke of Bedford won eight thousand guineas between them at the Newmarket Spring meeting. Fox and Lord Barrymore had a match for a large sum; this was given as a dead heat, and the bets were off.

On taking office in 1783, Fox sold his horses, and erased his name from several of the Clubs of which he was a member. In a short time, however, he again purchased a stud, and in October attended the Newmarket meeting, when a King's messenger appeared amongst the sportsmen on the Heath in quest of the Minister, for whom he bore despatches. The messenger, as was usual on these occasions, wore his badge of office, the greyhound, and his arrival created quite a stir on the course.

In 1790, Fox's horse, Seagull, won the Oatlands Stakes at Ascot of one hundred guineas (nineteen subscribers), beating the Prince of Wales's Escape, Serpent, and several of the very best horses of that year. The Prince was much mortified at this, and immediately matched Magpie against the winner, two miles, for five hundred guineas. This match, on which immense sums were depending, was, four days later, won with ease by Seagull. At this time Lord Foley and Mr. Fox raced together.

Lord Foley died in 1793; he entered upon the Turf with a clear £18,000 a year, and some £100,000 in ready money—he left it without ready money, with an encumbered estate, and with a constitution injured by cares and anxieties which embittered the end of his life.

Many other patricians were practically ruined on the Turf at about the same time, some by continuous ill-luck, but more owing to the machinations of the many doubtful characters who were experts at what was then known as "throwing the bull over the bridge"—a cant phrase formerly used by frequenters of the race-course to indicate a sporting swindle.

The phrase in question, it may be added, had its origin in the cruel pastime of bull-baiting. When such an orgy of cruelty was over, and the militia of hell which had witnessed it surfeited with blood, the carcass of the bull was dragged to a bridge, over which his quivering remains were thrown into the water beneath!

Many were the queer freaks and fancies of the great pillars of the Turf of the past. Sir Charles Bunbury, for instance, who trained his horses privately under his own eye, made the lads who groomed them wear his colours whilst at their task, in order to accustom the animals to the racing jackets and prevent all chance of nervousness in public. His horses were never allowed to be sweated or tried on a Good Friday, on account of an accident which had on one of these anniversaries happened to a couple of his racers, who had both fallen and broken their backs, each jockey having got a fractured thigh.

All this, however, has been written of time after time; indeed, the fascinating story of the Turf has found many admirable chroniclers. Nevertheless, these have hardly touched upon some of the more obscure figures, who seem to have escaped notice.

Such a one was Major Leeson, a well-known sporting character at the close of the eighteenth century, who may be taken as typical of the sharp racing man of humble origin, and who, having by astuteness attained a certain prosperity, was eventually reduced to beggary by the allurements of gambling. An Irishman of obscure birth, Mr. Leeson originally obtained his commission through the patronage of a Scottish nobleman, by whose munificence he was sent to school at Hampstead, and afterwards to the French military academy of Angers. Whilst at this seminary he fought a duel with a well-known baronet, and both combatants displayed great courage. Leeson was soon after appointed a lieutenant in a regiment of foot, in which he conducted himself as a soldier and a gentleman.

During his military career, Leeson was especially popular with his men, whose liking for their young officer almost amounted to adoration, owing to his ardent championship of their interests. While they were quartered in a country town, one of the sergeants, a sober, steady man, was wantonly attacked by a blacksmith, who was the terror of the place. The sergeant defended himself with great spirit as long as he was able, but was obliged, after a hard contest, to yield to his athletic antagonist. This intelligence reached Mr. Leeson's ears the next morning, and without delay he set out in pursuit of the victor, whom he found boasting of the triumph he had gained over the "lobster," as he called the sergeant. The very expression kindled Leeson's indignation into such a flame, that he aimed a blow at the fellow's temple, which was warded off and returned with such force that Leeson lay for some minutes extended on the ground. Leeson, however, renewed the attack; and his onslaughts were made with such rapidity and success, that the son of Vulcan was eventually stretched senseless on the ground. In order to complete the triumph, Leeson placed him in a wheel-barrow; and in this situation he was wheeled through all the town amidst the acclamations of the populace. Soon after this, Mr. Leeson exchanged his lieutenancy for a cornetcy of dragoons.

He now began to be attracted by the seductions of gaming and the Turf, both of which exercised a fascination over his mind which he was unable to resist. Fortune was kind, and an almost uninterrupted series of success led him to Newmarket, where his evil genius, in the name of good luck, converted him in a short time into a professional gambler. At one time he had a complete stud at Newmarket; and his famous horse Buffer carried off all the capital plates for three years and upwards, though once beaten at Egham, when 15 to 1 was laid on it. Major Leeson's discernment in racing matters soon became generally remarked, and he was consulted by all the sharpest frequenters of the Turf on critical occasions.

In later years, however, Major Leeson experienced the ill-fortune which is too often the lot of gamblers. A long run of ill-luck preyed upon his spirits, soured his temper, and drove him to that last resource of an enfeebled mind—the brandy bottle. As he could not shine in his wonted splendour, he sought the most obscure public-houses in the purlieus of St. Giles, where he used to pass whole nights in the company of his countrymen of the lowest class. Overwhelmed by debt and worn-out body and soul, he was constantly pursued by the terrors of the law, and alternately imprisoned by his own fears or confined in the King's Bench, till, a broken and miserable man, he welcomed death as a friend come to relieve him of an almost insupportable load.

An eccentric supporter of the Turf, who died in 1799, was Councillor Lade. It was his highest ambition to be thought a distinguished member of the sporting world; but in this, as in the more contracted circle of private life, he was not destined to cut a conspicuous figure, being by nature much better calculated for an obscure place in the background. During the last twenty years of his life he kept a miserable lot of spindle-shanked brood mares, colts, and fillies at Cannon Park, between Kingsclere and Overton in Hampshire—a place which, owing to its barrenness, was quite unsuited for breeding horses.

His successes on the Turf were insignificant. During the last twelve years of his life he hardly ever brought less than six, seven, or eight horses annually to the post for country plates (never till the last two or three years presuming to sport his name at Newmarket); nevertheless, few of them, if any, ever realised his expectations, or paid one-third of the expenses in the way of breeding, breaking, training, running, or sale. Councillor Lade's almost constant sequence of disappointments originated in one single cause strikingly palpable to every eye but his own, which was their breeder's parsimony. His mares were in a wretched and deplorable state of emaciation during the whole time of bearing their foals, whilst a systematic starvation of both dams and offspring when foals, and a miserable sustenance barely enough to support life when weaned, totally nullified his chances of success upon the Turf.

It was no uncommon thing to see the Councillor's favourite brood mare, Laetitia, and many others with their foals, in the fertile months of May and June, upon the side of a barren, burnt-up hill, with barely pasture sufficient to keep even the dam in existence, without even a possibility of affording half the nutriment necessary for the unfortunate foal. Owing to these highly injudicious and cruel methods, his stud, even when of superior blood, was always inferior in bone and strength to its rivals, there being in it never more than one horse in every eight or ten with constitutional stamina sufficient to bear the training necessary before going to the post.

When after his death the Councillor's wretched stud were on their way to be sold by auction they excited universal pity from the humane in the towns and villages through which they passed. Many of the horses sold for the trifling sum of two or three guineas each, owing to the wretched condition of the poor animals. Councillor Lade, in his Turf transactions as elsewhere, was so consistently parsimonious even to those whom it would have been good policy to conciliate that every man's hand was against him, even that of his own servants.

One of his manias was to run his horses as much as possible at race meetings near his home, in order to avoid the expenses of travelling.

The years 1797 and 1798 were the most prosperous of his Turf career. Seven of his horses went to the post for twenty-four plates and purses, of which Truss, Will, and Grey Pilot won seven fifties—two at Ascot, two at Abingdon, and one each at Reading, Winchester, and Stockbridge.

Councillor Lade was in himself a singular and unsociable man, seldom seen in company, upon the race-course or elsewhere. Cynically cold and innately parsimonious, few cared to sojourn beneath what might be justly termed, in more senses than one, a habitation without a roof. Hospitality was alien to the spirit of Cannon Park, and the building itself was one entire mass of chilling frigidity which betokened a total lack of good cheer. The owner was constantly involved in pecuniary disputes and lawsuits with his dependents, in which he was usually worsted.

It was not infrequently his practice to drive his curricle and greys without a servant the fifty-seven miles to Cannon Park, not even taking them once out of the harness; a handful of hay, and two or three quarts of water at Salt Hill, and Spratley's, the Bear, at Reading, in addition to the turnpikes, constituted the entire expense of the journey, it being an irrevocable opinion of his that servants on the road were more troublesome and expensive than their masters.

The Councillor was married to a lady of excellent family, who, owing to mental trouble, lived in seclusion. This, however, did not trouble him much, for he took care to make up for the lack of a wife's society by a profusion of female friends, who enlivened his elegant house in Pall Mall, his rural cottage near Turnham Green, and even his unadorned inhospitable mansion at Cannon Park.

Another unpleasant Turf character about this date was "Louse Pigott," a man of good Shropshire family. The slovenly manner of dressing and general unkempt appearance of this gentleman had obtained for him his unsavoury nickname. He had originally been possessed of some wealth, but going racing soon lost practically his whole fortune. Devoid of means, and prompted apparently by the same spirit which induces unsuccessful modern gamblers at Monte Carlo to apply to the authorities for a sum sufficient to enable them to leave the Principality of Monaco, Mr. Pigott conceived the original idea of making representations to the Jockey Club, with a view to receiving pecuniary aid. Needless to say his petition was treated with a complete lack of consideration which, it was said, so enraged him that in revenge he wrote the libellous work called The Jockey Club, a volume of short but scandalous biographies of persons well known in the sporting world. Though Pigott appears to have escaped punishment for this, the publishers, Messrs. Ridgway & Symonds, were incarcerated in Newgate.

"Louse Pigott" appears to have been an eccentric character in many ways, for one September evening in 1793 he got into great trouble at the London Coffee-House, Ludgate Hill, where, sitting with a friend, Dr. William Hodgson, he became very vociferous in giving toasts of a disloyal kind, finally loudly proposing success to the "French Republic." This was immediately resented by a gentleman present, who, rising to his feet, proposed "The King," a toast which was drunk with cheers by all present except Pigott and his companion, who made use of such improper expressions that peace officers were sent for, who removed the apostles of revolution to the lock-up.

The next morning they were charged with drinking "the French Republic and the overthrow of the present system of Government and all Governments of Europe except the French; likewise of speaking disrespectfully of the King, the Duke of York, Lord Mayor, and other persons in high authority. They had," it was deposed, "called the Prince of Hesse a swine-dealer, and Ministers in general robbers and highwaymen." Finally, when being conveyed to the cells, they had shouted from the coach windows, "The French Republic, and Liberty while you live."

Being unable to find bail, the two prisoners were sent back to prison, to remain there till tried at the ensuing Old Bailey Sessions. The bill preferred against Pigott, however, was eventually thrown out and he was discharged. The general comment upon his release was that "he who is born to be hanged will never be drowned," and vice versa. His companion, Dr. Hodgson, was less fortunate, and received some punishment for the advanced sentiments which he had uttered.

Probably the shrewdest nobleman who ever went racing was the eccentric but highly astute "Old Q." At the time when he owned race-horses he was generally hand-in-hand with his jockey, Dick Goodison, with whom he had a perfect understanding. During a lengthy connection with the Turf, "Old Q." never displayed the least want of philosophy upon the unexpected result of a race. As a matter of fact he never entered into an engagement but where there was a great probability of his becoming the winner. In all emergencies his Grace preserved an invariable equanimity, and his cool serenity never forsook him, even in moments of the greatest surprise or disappointment. A singular proof of this occurred at Newmarket just as the horses were about to start for a sweepstakes. His Grace was engaged in a betting conversation with various members of the Jockey Club, when one of his lads, who was going to ride (in consequence of his light weight), tactlessly called him aside, asked him, too soon and too loud, How he was to ride that day? Perfectly convinced this had been overheard, his Grace, with well-affected surprise, exclaimed, "Why, take the lead and keep it to be sure! How the devil would you ride?"

Matches were a great feature of the period, and very large sums were staked. An historic match was that between Sir Harry Vane's Hambletonian and Mr. Cookson's Diamond for three thousand guineas, run over the Beacon Course during the Newmarket Craven meeting of 1799. Hambletonian, who was ridden by Buckle, carried eight stone three pounds, and Diamond, ridden by Dennis Fitzpatrick (Deny), eight stone; the betting was five to four on Hambletonian.

Though both gallant steeds have now long since mouldered into dust, together with the gay company of sportsmen who assembled to see them run, the memory of their desperate neck-and-neck struggle over that terrible last half-mile is not forgotten, and will ever shine amongst the chronicles of equine fame as the most sporting and gamely contested match of all time.

Hambletonian, a bright bay and a grandson of Eclipse, was a wonderful horse. He was only once beaten, at the York August meeting 1797, when he ran against Deserter and Spread Eagle, and took it into his head to bolt out of the course and leap a ditch.

Diamond, a beautiful brown bay, smaller than Hambletonian, was got by Highflyer. He was the more compact horse of the two.

Hambletonian being a Yorkshire bred horse, the Yorkshiremen backed him for prodigious sums, whilst Diamond was strongly supported by the Newmarket people, the horse being well-known in the neighbourhood.

Every bed in Newmarket (which could not hold a tenth of the visitors) was occupied, whilst Cambridge and all the towns and villages within twelve or fifteen miles were also thronged with people. Stabling was not to be had, and no chaise or horse could be procured on any of the roads, all having been engaged three weeks before.

The weather was most auspicious, and the general scene on the Heath highly interesting and attractive. All the gentlemen of the Turf, as the phrase ran, from the neighbouring counties were collected on the course, and many of the nobility of England, which was then a real and powerful nobility, including the Duchess of Gordon, were assembled to see the race.

At the start the horses kept tolerably close, Hambletonian retaining the lead till the last half-mile, when Diamond got abreast of him. The two horses then raced home in a most desperate manner, the nose of one or the other being alternately in front till Hambletonian won in the last stride. Both horses were terribly whipped and spurred, particularly Hambletonian. The four miles one furlong and one hundred and thirty-eight yards were covered in about eight minutes and a half.

Every one declared that this match was the most exciting ever known, and it was acknowledged even by the losers (who were described as being as much pleased as losers could be) to have been thoroughly fairly contested, each jockey having made the best of his horse.

As soon as the race was over, Sir Harry Vane Tempest, who, besides the stakes, had won about three thousand guineas, declared on the course that Hambletonian should be taken out of training the next morning, and in future he would ride him only as a hack. Sir Harry afterwards travelled to town in a post-chaise and four, and arrived at the Cocoa Tree at half-past eleven at night. The news of his victory, however, was already known, Mr. Hall, of Moorfields, who had three horses on the road, having got to town between nine and ten.

A bronze penny token of fine medallic design—now very scarce—commemorates this famous match. An inscription is on one side and a picture of the race on the other.

Mr. Cookson, the owner of Diamond, did not lose any enormous sum over the race. He was well-known for his shrewdness, and in one year, 1798, is said to have realised nearly £60,000 by the victories of Ambrosia and Diamond.

Hambletonian became the sire of over a hundred and forty winners.

Another match between Diamond and Mr. R. Heathcote's Warter strongly excited the sporting world, which was much puzzled how to bet. Warter having beat Diamond in the Oatland stakes of 1800, the latter was to receive seven pounds in the projected race. This, according to the knowing ones, was an advantage of the utmost importance, and Diamond became a strong favourite, his backers flattering themselves with the opinion that one of Warter's legs would fail him in running, and that consequently they were on the right side. Till about a fortnight before the meeting betting was equal; six to four was then betted in favour of Diamond, and was at first very cautiously accepted.

So highly was the gambling mania roused that, till a late hour on the Saturday night previous to the meeting, all the sporting houses near St. James's, and even more to the eastward, were crowded with betting-men of every description. The bolder sort dashed at the odds, whilst others more cautiously hedged, and all waited the event with the most anxious expectation.

The whole of Sunday the Newmarket road was crowded with carriages and cattle of every description, from the dashing curricle to the humble buggy, and from the pampered hunter to the spavined hack.

When every mouth was opening to bet, and expectation was on tiptoe, it was declared in the Coffee-room, that Warter, by reason of a kick, had declared forfeit, and the famous match was off.

Another match, which excited enormous interest at the beginning of the nineteenth century, was that between Mrs. Thornton, wife of the celebrated Colonel Thornton of Thornville Royal (now Studley Royal, the seat of Lord Ripon), and a gentleman well known in sporting circles, Mr. Flint by name. This was run at York in 1804, and is memorable as being the only race chronicled in the Racing Calendar in which a woman's name is mentioned. The entry, dated August 25, 1804, runs thus:—

Mr. Flint's Brown Thornville by Volunteer out of Abigail, aged, rode by the owner, beat Colonel Thornton's ch. h. Vinagrillio, aged, rode by Mrs. Thornton, four miles, five hundred guineas.

The weights were catch weights, and before the race five and six to four were laid upon the lady, which increased during the early portion of the race to seven to four and two to one, it seeming likely during the first three miles that Mrs. Thornton would secure an easy triumph. During the final mile, however, things entirely changed, and the victory of Mr. Flint appearing certain, odds were laid upon him. Over two hundred thousand pounds, it is said, were lost and won over this race, which excited a vast amount of interest. The lady's horse, it may be added, was a very old one.

Mrs. Thornton's dress was a leopard-coloured body with blue sleeves, the rest buff, and blue cap. Mr. Flint rode in white. The race was run in nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds. In the published account of the race it is stated that "No words can express the disappointment felt at the defeat of Mrs. Thornton, the spirit she displayed and the good humour with which she has borne her loss having greatly diminished the joy of many of the winners."

The fortunate individuals in question seem, however, to have been under some misapprehension as to the lady's equanimity under defeat, as she subsequently sent an angry letter to the York Herald complaining that she had been treated with scant courtesy.

Though the lady signed herself Alicia Thornton she seems to have had no legitimate claim to the name—she was a Miss Meynell, and her sister was by way of being the wife of Mr. Flint. The race engendered much ill-feeling between the two couples.

The year after the race on the Knavesmire a fracas occurred between Colonel Thornton and Mr. Flint, the latter being very indignant at not having received £1000 of the £1500 wagered by the gallant Colonel on his wife's success. Mr. Flint vigorously applied a new horsewhip to the soldier's shoulders. The aggressor was taken into custody, Colonel Thornton afterwards making an application in the Court of King's Bench for leave to file a criminal information against Flint, who (he deposed) had challenged him to fight a duel, and horse-whipped him on the race-ground at York. The Colonel maintained that the bet of £1000 was a mere nominal thing, intended to attract people to the race-course, and that it was understood that only £500 of the £1500 should be paid. The case was eventually dismissed, the Colonel apparently sticking to his £1000.

thornton

As the English Turf began to rise in importance some attempt was made to introduce racing into France. As early as the reign of Louis XV. a number of the French nobility had frequented Newmarket. The well-known sportsman, Hugo Meynell, much resented this, and grimly declared that he wished the peace was all over and England comfortably at war again. A particularly unpopular visitor was the Comte de Lauraguais, who purchased the celebrated race-horse, Gimcrack, took him over to France, and for a big bet ran him twenty-two and a half miles, it is said, within an hour.

At the end of the eighteenth century Philippe Égalité raced at Newmarket, where he seems to have created an unfavourable impression. Though he entered a good many horses, he was not particularly successful as an owner. In France the sporting exploits of this Prince and of the Comte d'Artois excited a good deal of indignation. They were declared to be the associates of grooms, and to enter into scandalous combinations in the races which they organised, whilst treating the onlookers with the most ineffable contempt and savage ferocity. It would certainly appear that at times they used their whips on the spectators as well as on their horses; and not only encouraged the officers to maltreat the crowd, but employed such grossness of speech, and offensive oaths, as showed that these Princes were not unskilled in the language of the vilest part of the nation. High betting was general, and noblemen turned jockeys and rode their own racers. When the Comte de Lauraguais appeared at Court, after a long absence, the King coldly inquired where he had been for so long. "In England," the Count replied. "What did you do there?" "I learnt there, please your Majesty, to think." "Of horses," retorted the King.

The early days of the French Turf were unedifying. In a match between the Duc de Lauzun and M. de Fénelon the latter fell from his horse, broke his arm, and lost his wager. The same gentleman betted with another nobleman as to which of them could reach Versailles and return to Paris the quicker in a single-horse chaise. The horse of the first died at Sèvres, and the other expired in the stable at Paris, a few hours after his return.

Frivolous courtiers, not satisfied with exercising their inhumanity on their horses, exposed themselves to the derision of Paris by other kinds of races. The Duc de Chartres, the Duc de Lauzun, and the Marquis FitzJames once betted five hundred louis who could first reach Versailles on foot. Lauzun gave up the foot-race about half way; Chartres about two-thirds; FitzJames arrived in an exhausted state, and was saluted as conqueror by the Comte d'Artois. The hero in question was near expiring in the arms of victory and had to be put to bed. Blood-letting was resorted to, and though he won his wager he contracted asthma.

Marie Antoinette, not satisfied with foot and horse racing, instituted contests of speed in which donkeys were bestridden, the successful jockey being rewarded with three hundred livres and a golden thistle.

During the first Empire, Napoleon, probably with an eye to the horsing of his cavalry, decreed that there should be races, and races of a sort there were, chiefly in the Department of the Orne and at a hippodrome at Le Pin, the seat of a Government stud established by Colbert in the days of the Roi Soleil.

After the restoration of the Bourbons, racing was intermittently carried on at Vincennes, at Fontainebleau, in the Champs de Mars, and at Satory-Versailles, which were the chief places of racing near Paris. The ground at both was detestable. At Satory-Versailles, in wet weather, the course was so deep in mud that the horses could hardly move. At the Champs de Mars the ground was often "so hard as to endanger the strongest legs," and "when the horses galloped the jockeys were liable to be blinded by a cloud of dust and small pebbles." As a matter of fact the races were more often than not won by the mounted gendarmes, who rode with the horses from start to finish.

In the early days of the French Turf the fields were, of course, small, and so was the value of the prizes. For this reason, in order to eke out a fair number of races with very few horses, the practice of running races in "heats" was grossly abused. In 1840, Madame de Giraudin wrote: "The races on Sunday were favoured with superb weather, and the extraordinary sight was seen of nine horses running together—nine live horses, nine rivals—a rare spectacle in the Champs de Mars. Generally one horse runs all alone, contending against no opponent, and always coming in first. But this does not signify; it excites the admiration of those who love sport, and especially of the philosophers among them; it is so noble to strive against and overcome oneself!"

The foundation of the French Turf as we see it to-day dates back to 1833, when the French Jockey Club was founded.

Before this there had existed in the Rue Blanche an English Jockey and Pigeon Shooting Club founded by a Mr. Thomas Bryon, who acted as secretary. In 1830, of the eighteen members, four were English, including that very original character. Lord Henry Seymour, and in course of time he took a leading part in originating a Members' Club, which should resemble the English Jockey Club, and should be lodged in a luxurious Club-house.

The twelve founders of the French Jockey Club were soon joined by a large number of sportsmen, among whom were the novelist, Eugène Sue, Lord Yarmouth, and Mr. John Bowes, who passed most of his life in Paris. The latter gentleman won the Derby four times. On the first occasion, in 1835, when Mundig beat Ascot (which belonged to the writer's grandfather, Lord Orford) by a head, Mr. Bowes was still an undergraduate at Cambridge—in subsequent years he won it again with Cotherstone, Daniell O'Rourke, and West Australian.

The French Jockey Club, at its institution, consisted of Royal Princes, noblemen, ordinary men of property, all persons of considerable influence interested in horse-breeding and in the improvement of the breed of horses by means of horse-racing and the "selection of the fittest." Most of them were good horsemen, who rode their own horses on occasion. M. de Normandie, for instance, was the winner of an improvised race which took place at Chantilly in 1833 between himself, Prince Lobanoff, Viscount de Hédouville, and others. This is said to have suggested the idea of forming the present beautiful race-course there. This gentleman, who must be ranked as one of the fathers of the French Turf, frequently acted in the earliest days of the French Jockey Club as steward, judge, and starter; and though he does not appear to have introduced any famous strain of blood into the studs of his country, greatly contributed to establish French racing on its present prosperous footing.

M. de Normandie is said to have won the first regular steeplechase ever run in France on English principles. This took place in 1830, near St. Germain, and in December 1908 a gentleman was still living who was supposed to have taken part in it.

This was Mr. Albert Ricardo, J.P., who spent his early days in Paris. A great supporter of sport, Mr. Ricardo, who died on the last day but one of the year, had won the Cambridgeshire with The Widow as far back as 1847. He had also been a keen cricketer in his youth, and was one of the two first members of the I Zingari.

There was steeplechasing at the Croix de Bernay as early as 1832, and at La Marche some little time later.

The Auteuil steeplechase course, which is now the head-quarters of the sport in France, was not inaugurated till after the war of 1870.

Through the influence of the Duc d'Orléans, the son of Louis Philippe, who was killed in a carriage accident in 1842, the French Jockey Club obtained leave to hold regular meetings in the Champs de Mars; and he it also was who, in 1834, arranged the creation of the race-course at Chantilly, which, till Longchamps was started in 1856-57, was without doubt the best course in France. At Chantilly was run the first French Derby (Prix du Jockey Club) in 1836, and the first French Oaks (Prix de Diane) in 1843.

The stables of the Duc at Chantilly were presided over by an English trainer, George Edwards, and his principal jockey was Edgar Pavis. In 1840 his English-bred horse, Beggarman, won the Goodwood Cup. Besides this the Duc d'Orléans won a number of French races. As a matter of fact, racing in France, from 1834 to 1842, was more or less of a duel between the Prince in question and Lord Henry Seymour.

The latter extraordinary personage was born in Paris in 1805, and is believed never to have set foot in England. Lord Henry Seymour was said to be related on his mother's side to "Old Q." or George Selwyn, or both, and from either or both of them he probably inherited some of his numberless eccentricities as well as his taste for the Turf. He was a well-known figure in Paris and its neighbourhood, for it was his constant practice to drive about in a carriage with four horses, postilions, and out-riders. After Mardi Gras, he would sit with other congenial spirits at the window of the noted "Vendanges de Bourgogne," watching the descente de la Courtille (the return from the ball) in the early morning, when he would scatter heated pieces of gold among the crowd of returning "maskers." Lord Henry is said to have been the original of the eccentric character described by Balzac, who delighted in furtively administering drastic medicines to his dearest friends, the very unpleasant effects of which afforded him intense amusement. He delighted also in giving away cigars with something explosive inserted at the end, afterwards watching the effect of a light applied by the unsuspecting smoker. He died in Paris in 1859.

In 1856 the French Turf entered upon a new and important era, a promise being obtained from the Government and the municipality of Paris that a race-course should be included in the projected plan for the transformation of the Bois de Boulogne. In the Longchamps meadows, on the borders of the Seine, an expanse of level and unencumbered ground was allotted to the Société d'Encouragement, and by an arrangement with the municipality of Paris, the Société became lessees of the race-course for fifty years, undertaking to pay an annual rent, as well as to build stands, which, at the expiration of the lease in 1906, should become the property of the city. The old stands, which during the last three years have been replaced by magnificent new ones, were erected by the architects of the city of Paris, at an expense of 420,000 francs (£16,800), and subsequent expenses brought the amount up to 1,284,981 francs (about £51,395). The race-course was opened on the last Sunday in April 1857, and the first Grand Prix was run in 1862, when the Ranger won.

The moving spirit in the institution of this race, now the richest in the world, is said to have been the Emperor Napoleon the Third, represented by the Duc de Morny, the creator of Deauville. The first Grand Prix was worth £4000 and an objet d'art; the amount of the stakes for the same race in 1909 was some £16,000.

When the Grand Prix was first inaugurated, many vigorous protests were made in England against the race being run on a Sunday, but by these the French declined to be swayed. As a matter of fact, notwithstanding Anglo-Saxon plaints at the iniquity of Sunday racing, the beautiful courses at Longchamps and Auteuil are very popular with visitors from across the Channel on many a fine Sabbath day, when Englishmen, known for their stern and unflinching moral rectitude, are not infrequent spectators on such occasions. One of these, a public man, notorious for his advocacy of every form of puritanical restriction, whilst exhibiting some confusion at being recognised by a friend, could only make the defence: "Well, after all, it doesn't matter, as I am not betting." In all probability, however, he, like other visitors, had backed his fancy!

An important share in the laying-out of Longchamps race-course was taken by the late Mr. Mackenzie Grieves, who, originally an officer in the Blues, took up his residence in Paris, became a member of the French Jockey Club and played a prominent part in the organisation of French racing. Mr. Mackenzie Grieves, whose memory is preserved by an important race to which his name has been given, was personally known to the writer, who retains pleasant recollections of his great charm and dignified appearance, both of which were highly characteristic of one of the last of the fine old school. He was a most graceful rider and a master of the haute école.

Though racing in France was naturally suspended during the war, it was once more in full swing in 1872, when the Grand Prix was won by Cremorne. In consequence of the downfall of the second Empire a number of the important races were renamed. The Prix de l'Impératrice, for instance, became the Prix Rainbow; the Prix du Prince Impérial the Prix Royal Oak. The Prix Gladiateur, one of the oldest French prizes, has under its various names strikingly reflected the vicissitudes of French politics. Originally it was the Prix Royal, then Prix National, then Grand Prix de l'Empereur, till, with the rise of the third Republic, it was called after the famous race-horse.

In 1885 there was great jubilation amongst French sportsmen at the victories of Plaisanterie, which won both the Cesarewitch and Cambridgeshire, as well as twelve out of thirteen events in France.

The appearance of the daughter of Wellingtonia and Poetess in the Cesarewitch was said at the time to be owing to two bookmakers, T. Wilde and Jack Moore, who made it worth the while of the filly's owners (M.H. Bony and Mr. T. Carter) to start her, guaranteeing them 33 to 1, though they themselves had only got 20 to 1 in England. Wilde, it was declared, brought back to France after the race nearly five million francs (£200,000), won by backing Plaisanterie, of which Jack Moore paid out some 600,000 (£24,000) in five-franc, ten-franc, and twenty-franc pieces to French backers who had been on the good thing.

In common with the rest of the fraternity, these two very sporting layers have now long disappeared from the French race-course. Bookmaking in France practically ceased to exist with the introduction of the Pari Mutuel in 1891.

Previous to that time bookmakers had pitches provided for them some way behind the stands, where they were allowed to exhibit lists of the horses running in the various races, against which were chalked the odds, the variations in which were thus easily shown. The whole thing was most decorously conducted, and the system worked fairly well. Nevertheless, from time to time, rumours were rife as to an intended suppression of the bookmakers by the French authorities, and at last in 1891 they were definitely bidden to cease plying their business. The new decree was rigorously enforced, crowds of police in uniform and plain clothes being present on the Parisian race-courses, and any one found openly making a bet was ruthlessly arrested—a perfect reign of terror, indeed, prevailed amongst betting-men, and very great dissatisfaction ensued amongst habitual frequenters of the French Turf. On several occasions, notably one Sunday at Auteuil (when the writer was present), a large force of military were on the ground, regiments of cavalry being in reserve outside the race-course. Feeling ran very high, and the races were run amidst hoots, yells, and other demonstrations of indignation, some of which most unjustly took the form of missiles hurled at the jockeys. The cabmen and proprietors of the char-à-bancs who drive the public to the various race-courses around Paris, the keepers of the small restaurants along the various lines of route, loudly complained that the new era of restriction which had dawned would completely ruin them. The saddest people of all, however, were very naturally the bookmakers, most of them English, who for many years had made a living on the French race-courses, for, whilst the public generally were more or less certain that some new method of betting would be devised, they fully realised that the suppression of their business was no mere outburst of outraged morality on the part of the Government, but a well thought-out scheme for appropriating their spoils and diverting them to public purposes. The golden days were gone, and ruin stared them in the face.

In a very short time public indignation was allayed by the announcement that French racing was not, as it had been averred, about to be stamped out by the high-handed brutality of those at the head of the State. Betting would be allowed, but only through the medium of the Pari Mutuel or Totalisator, which would be established on a legal basis on every race-course in France; and after the passing of the law, which definitely laid down the manner in which speculation on the French Turf was in future to be conducted, the beautiful courses round Paris were once more thronged by crowds of relieved race-goers.

The law in question, passed on 2nd June 1891, expressly prohibited any form of betting on race-courses except through the medium of the Pari Mutuel, and strictly defined the conditions on which the latter was to be worked. For a few years after this law came into operation a certain toleration was extended to a few of the principal bookmakers, who still continued to make bets in an unobtrusive way, but of late years the authorities, considering that such a state of affairs tends to decrease the receipts drawn from the Totalisator, have become exceedingly stern in repressing any attempts at such a form of speculation.

The percentage levied on the sums staked at the Pari Mutuel is now eight per cent for the race-courses round Paris and that at Deauville, and ten per cent for race-courses in the provinces. Of this sum the five great Parisian racing associations and that of Deauville are allotted four per cent, the rest being applied to charitable and other public purposes. A different scale applies to the provincial race-courses, where the receipts are naturally not so remunerative.

The official figures issued on 7th June 1909, show that £160,000,000 has been staked by the public by means of the Pari Mutuel since its institution in 1891. During the last eighteen years no less than £4,000,000, produced by the percentage levied on this sum, has been applied to public purposes; besides this, various charities and the Racing Societies have profited to an enormous extent.

To-day, owing to the large sums which are available from this source, there is to all intents and purposes no poor-rate in France—the Pari Mutuel takes its place.

As regards the racing itself, it is shown by the official statistics to be in a more flourishing condition than ever before.

In 1891 there existed in France 253 Racing Societies, which held 526 meetings; on the 31st of December 1904 an official statement showed that 396 societies held 906 meetings. During this period more than twenty-nine millions of francs, considerably more than a million pounds sterling, produced by the percentage levied on the Pari Mutuel, had been devoted to racing prizes and the general encouragement of horse-breeding in France. Since the institution of the Totalisator the race-courses and stands have been much improved, funds being abundant.

As a means of speculation for the casual visitor to a race-course the Pari Mutuel is a most convenient form of betting. An excellent organisation exists on every French race-course for enabling those desirous of backing any horse to do so by taking their ticket at one of the many bureaux, above which are inscribed the amount which any ticket represents.

Separate betting bureaux exist for ladies in the special stands which are on some courses set aside for them, and everything is done to render the public thoroughly comfortable.

A list of the horses running is clearly displayed, and there is when possible place betting. On some race-courses the field can be backed, which, in the event of an outsider winning, is not unprofitable. The lowest sum for which a ticket is issued is five francs, the highest five hundred francs. There is, of course, no limit to the number of tickets which any one who wishes to do so may take. Should a backer not be desirous of changing a winning ticket into cash upon the race-course he can keep it till his return to Paris, where, on presenting it at a Central Office at certain fixed hours (defined on the ticket), he receives his money without any inconvenience. In justice, however, to the French race-course authorities it should be added that, considering the huge amount of money carried by those going racing in France, robberies are extremely rare.

Admission to the "pesage," the best and most expensive enclosure, is only 20 francs for a man, 10 francs for a woman. There is also a cheaper stand, and admission to the course costs a franc.

Though a certain number of heavy betters complain of the lack of bookmakers, the general public appears satisfied.

On the Grand Prix day of the present year, when the race was for the first time won by a French jockey, £185,326 passed through the Pari Mutuel at Longchamps, out of the percentage levied on which the poor received no less than £3700. Whatever may be urged against the Totalisator in France, it is bound to benefit a certain number of people, which is a good deal more than can be said for any other form of betting, gambling, or speculation.

Those who in the pages of this book have wandered through the gaming-houses of Europe, and have briefly surveyed the careers of most of the chief gamblers of the past, will, it is hoped, do the writer the justice to admit that he has in no wise sought to minimise the grave evils which are the almost inevitable result of worshipping the goddess of Chance.

Nothing, indeed, is more striking than the almost universal ruin which has ever overtaken the vast majority of gamblers, except the complete failure which has invariably attended all attempts to stamp out this vice by means of coercive measures.

The futile and ineffectual results which, during the last two hundred years, have invariably followed all drastic repression, are clearly demonstrated by hard facts; at the present time speculation, gambling, and betting all flourish as they never flourished before.

In open combat, the strong arm of the law is resistless; but there is no possibility of its ultimate triumph or power of eradicating the desire of gaming from the human mind; and more especially in a country where speculation on the Stock Exchange is regarded with the greatest tolerance by those who denounce the race-course and the card-table.

The anathemas of well-meaning and unworldly ecclesiastics, the plaints of zealous philanthropists, the strident declamations of social reformers, who call for legislative measures of drastic restriction, can only cause the philosophic student of human nature to deplore that so much well-meaning effort should be devoted to such a futile end.

In sober fact the gambling mania is one for which no specific remedy exists—it is possessed by those who are well aware of its dangers, and realise that in the ordinary course of events it must prove ultimately destructive. Repress it in one direction and it reappears—more often than not worse than ever—in another.

It is impossible to dragoon human nature into virtue. The leopard cannot change its spots, or the Ethiopian his skin. Man with his craving for strong emotions will assuredly find means of gratifying them, and it is mere hypocritical rubbish to assume that in the future milk and water is to be the elixir of life.

The well-meaning altruist, who looks with contempt on the frivolous occupations which appear to amuse a great part of mankind, should remember that they, on the other hand, are equally at a loss to account for the pleasure which he derives from the more elevated pursuits in which their lower mental capacities forbid them to indulge.

As a matter of fact the strongest motive with all mankind, after the more sordid necessities are provided for, is excitement. For this reason gambling will continue—even should all card-playing be declared illegal and all race-courses ploughed up.

Repugnant as the idea may be to the Anglo-Saxon mind, regulation, not repression, is without doubt the best possible method of mitigating the evils of speculation; and, moreover, such a system possesses the undeniable advantage of diverting no inconsiderable portion of the money so often recklessly risked into channels of undoubted public benefit.

The time is not yet when English public opinion is prepared to face facts as they are; but though it may be at some far distant day, that time must come, when a wiser and more enlightened legislature, profiting by the experience of the past, will at last realise that the vice of gambling cannot be extirpated by violent means. Reluctantly, but certainly, it will endeavour to palliate the worst features of gambling by taking care that those who indulge in it shall do so under the fairest conditions, whilst at the same time paying a toll to be applied for the good of the community at large.

Such is the inevitable and only solution of a social problem which from any other direction it is absolutely hopeless to approach.

INDEX