ROYALTY ON THE TURF

That horse-racing was in vogue, and practised to some extent by the Saxons, may be deduced from the fact of King Athelstan having received as a present from Hugh the Great—father of Hugh Capet of France—several German running-horses, which, it may be presumed, was considered the most worthy present that could be offered, as it was accompanied by a proposal for the hand of Athelstan’s sister in marriage. This monarch’s estimation of the horse was evidently widely known, and it is recorded how sundry princes sought his alliance and friendship, sending him “rich presents, precious stones, perfumes, and the finest horses, with golden furniture.”[90]

A more distinct indication of horse-racing occurs in Fitz-Stephen’s description of London, where we learn how, in Henry II.’s reign, horses were exposed for sale in Smithfield, when, to prove their excellence, they were usually matched against each other. In the reign of Richard I. horse-racing would seem to have been a common diversion during the Easter and Whitsuntide holidays, as in the old metrical romance of Sir Bevis of Southampton, it is thus alluded to:—

In the register of the royal expenditure of King John running-horses are frequently mentioned—this monarch having been a renowned sportsman, although there is no evidence to show that he used his running-horses otherwise than in the sports of the field. Edward II. was a breeder of horses, and the word “courser,” which is made use of in the Issue Roll of 37 Edward III., would seem to indicate the race-horse: “To William de Manton, keeper of the King’s wardrobe, by the hands of Thomas Spigurnell, keeper of the King’s great horses, in discharge of £119, 6s. 8d., paid to the same Thomas for the purchase of divers horses from the executors of the will of John, late Bishop of Lincoln, viz., one free sorrel courser, price 20 marks; one courser spotted with white, price 20 marks; one courser of a roan colour, from Pappenworth, price 20 marks; one roan-coloured courser, from Tolney, price 20 marks; one brown bay courser, price 25 marks; one roan courser, from Cranbourn, price £10, 13s. 4d.; one brown bay courser, price £11.”[91]

Henry VIII. was a lover of horses, and it would seem that he obliged men of position to keep a certain number of them. Thus “archbishops, and every duke were enjoined in this reign to keep seven trotting stone horses of fourteen hands in height for the saddle. Clergymen, also, who possessed a benefice of £100 per annum, or laymen whose wives wore French hoods, or a bonnet of velvet, were ordered to keep one trotting stone horse under a penalty of twenty pounds.”[92] And Henry VIII. no doubt did his best to improve the breed of horses, for he imported some from Turkey, Naples, Spain, and Flanders. During Queen Elizabeth’s reign horse-racing was in considerable vogue, although it was not much patronised by her Majesty, otherwise races would undoubtedly have formed a part of the pastimes at Kenilworth.

But it is to James I. that horse-racing is principally indebted, for he not only patronised it, but made it a general and national amusement. To him is due the credit for attempting the improvement of the English racer by the crossing of foreign blood, which, although considered at the time a failure, has proved a success. For this purpose he purchased for £500—an enormous price in those days—an Arabian, which, according to the Duke of Newcastle, was of little value, having been easily beaten by our native horses.[93] It was in this reign that private matches between gentlemen—then their own jockeys—became very common in England; and the first public race-meetings appear at Garterley, in Yorkshire; Croydon, in Surrey; and Theobald’s, on Enfield Chace; the prize being a golden bell.[94] Although he did not originate the races at Newmarket, yet the patronage he accorded them led to their being established permanently there. On the 26th February 1605, James visited Newmarket, where on that and the following day he knighted several gentlemen;[95] and the popularity of Newmarket was further enhanced by his building a house there which was long known as the “King’s House.”

In Nichol’s “Progresses of James I.” will be found some interesting particulars respecting this monarch’s interest in the turf; from which it appears that on Thursday, April 3, 1617, he was at Lincoln, where “was a great horse-race on the Heath for a cupp, where his Majesty was present, and stood on a scaffold the citie had caused to be set up, and withall caused the race a quarter of a mile long to be raled and corded with ropes and hoopes on both sides, whereby the people were kept out, and the horses that ronned were seen faire.” A few days later the King was at Durham, and from the same source we learn[96] how “he travelled from the Castle to Woodham Moor to a horse-race, which was run by the horses of William Salvin and Master Maddocks, for a gold purse, which was intended to have been on the 8th of April, but on account of the King’s coming was put off till the 21st, which match the King saw.” And again, about two years after this, we are informed how on the 19th March 1619, “there was a horse-race at Newmarket, at which the King tarrying too long, in his return from Newmarket was forced to put in at an inn at Whichfordbridge by reason of his being indisposed, and came very late in the night to Royston.” Prince Henry had a strong attachment to racing as well as hunting, but he was cut off at an early age.

Charles I. was well inclined towards sports of this kind, but, owing to the unsettled nature of his reign, horse-racing seems to have fallen somewhat into abeyance. In the early part of Charles’s reign, however, horse-races were held in several parts of the country, at some of which he was present; and that they were no uncommon occurrence at Epsom may be gathered from Clarendon’s “History of the Rebellion”: “Soon after the meeting which was held at Guildford, May 18, 1648, to address the two Houses of Parliament ... a meeting of the Royalists was held on Banstead Downs, under the pretence of a horse-race, and six hundred horses were collected and marched off to Reigate.” But we find Sir Edward Harwood lamenting the scarcity of able horses in the kingdom, “not more than two thousand being to be found equal to the like number of French horses,” for which he blames principally racing.

After the Restoration horse-racing was revived and much encouraged by Charles II., who frequently honoured this pastime with his presence.[97] Thus, when at Windsor, he appointed races to be run in Datchet Mead, as also at Newmarket, where his horses were entered in his own name, and where he rebuilt the decayed palace of his grandfather, James I. Another popular locality was Burford Downs—since known as Bibury race-course, so often frequented by George IV. when regent, and to which old Baskerville alludes in the subjoined doggerel—

But Newmarket was Charles II.’s favourite racing centre, and at one time there might be seen on Newmarket Heath what was known as the “King’s Chair,” from which the King was wont to enjoy a view of the horses as they took their exercise. Charles often took members of the Court there with him, including many of the ladies belonging to it, conspicuous amongst whom was Nell Gwynn; and under October 21, 1671, Evelyn makes this entry: “I lodged this night at Newmarket, where I found the jolly blades racing, dancing, feasting, and revelling, more resembling a luxurious and abandoned rout than a Christian court.”

A journey to Newmarket, however, was not the short run of the present day, and Pepys, under March 8, 1669, tells us how the King set out for the races at a somewhat early hour: “To Whitehall, from whence the King and the Duke of York went by three in the morning, and had the misfortune to be overset with the Duke of York, the Duke of Monmouth, and the Prince Rupert, at the King’s Gate, in Holborne; and the King all dirty, but no hurt. How it came to pass I know not, but only it was dark, and the torches did not, they say, light the coach as they should do.” A few weeks after this mishap, Pepys informs us that on the 26th April, “the King and Court went out of town to Newmarket this morning betimes, for a week.” And Evelyn, under the 9th and 10th October, 1671, makes this entry in his “Diary”: “I went after evening service to London, in order to take a journey of refreshment with Mr. Treasurer, to Newmarket, where the King then was, in his coach with six brave horses, which we changed thrice, first at Bishop Stortford, and last at Chesterford; so, by night, we got to Newmarket, where Mr. Henry Jermain—nephew to the Earl of St. Alban’s—lodged me very civilly. We proceeded immediately to Court, the King and all the English gallants being there at their annual sports. Supped at the Lord Chamberlain’s; and the next day, after dinner, I was on the heath, where I saw the great match run between Woodcock and Flatfoot, belonging to the

King, and to Mr. Elliot of the Bedchamber, many thousands being spectators; a more signal race had not been run for many years.”

On Thursday, March 22, 1683, Charles II. was burnt out when at Newmarket. It appears that about nine o’clock in the evening “a great fire broke out where the King, the Queen, and the Duke of York were residing in the King’s house, situate on the Cambridgeshire side of the town. The fire originated on the Suffolk side, but the other one being in danger, it was resolved that the King and his Court should that night come to Cambridge, and accordingly word came to the Vice-Chancellor about one of the clock on the Friday morning, who immediately gave orders for great St. Mary’s Bells to jangle, to give notice to the Towne, and candles, &c., to be in all places alight, and accordingly the bells did jangle, and candles in abundance in all parts of the public streets on both sides in their windows lighted, and the King and Court accordingly expected. But between two and three that morning, there came the Lord Grandison to the Dolphin and acquainted Mr. Mayor that his Majesty would go, or was gone, to Cheavely, and not come to Cambridge; but his Majesty did not stir from Newmarket, but continued there all night, and went away from thence not till Monday following, being the 26th March 1683.”[98] This fire which destroyed property to the value of £20,000, is said to have defeated the Rye House Plot, which is generally supposed to have meditated the death of Charles II. and his brother the Duke of York, at a spot called Rye House, on the road to London from Newmarket, and which was to have been carried out eight days after the royal party thus unexpectedly left Newmarket for London. Evelyn has not omitted to mention this occurrence in his “Diary,” and under September 23, 1683, he writes: “There was this day a collection for rebuilding Newmarket, consumed by an accidental fire, which removing his Majesty thence sooner than was intended, put by the assassins, who were disappointed of their rendezvous and expectation by a wonderful Providence. This made the King more earnest to render Winchester the seat of his autumnal field diversions for the future, designing a palace there where the ancient palace stood; infinitely, indeed, preferable to Newmarket for prospects, air, pleasure, and provisions. The surveyor has already begun the foundation for a palace, estimated to cost £35,000, and his Majesty is purchasing ground about it to make a park.” But Charles II. died in February 1685. It should be added that Charles II. was a breeder of race-horses, having imported mares from Barbary and other parts, selected by his Master of the Horse sent abroad for that purpose, and called Royal Mares, appearing as such in the Stud-book to this day. One of these mares was the dam of Dodsworth, bred by the King, and said to be the earliest race-horse we have on record, whose pedigree can be properly authenticated.[99]

James II. was a horseman, but he did not reign long enough over his people to enable them to judge of his inclinations respecting the pleasures of the turf. When he retired to France, however, he devoted himself to hunting, and had several first-rate English horses always in his stud. William III. and his Queen were patrons of racing, not only continuing the bounty of their predecessors, but adding several plates to the former donations. In Queen Anne the turf found a warm supporter, her consort, Prince George of Denmark, keeping a fine stud, the Curwen Bay Barb and the celebrated Darley Arabian appearing in this reign. It was Queen Anne who first started the Gold Cups in the north, and entered and ran her own horses for them. Thus, at York, in the year 1712, her Majesty’s grey gelding, Pepper, ran for the Royal Cup of £100; and in the following year another of her horses named Mustard, ran for the Royal Cup again, but neither was good enough to win his royal mistress a Gold Cup. She was destined, however, at last, to win a triumph at York, though it was one of which she never was conscious, for on the very morning of which her brown horse, Star, won for her Majesty her first great victory on the turf, July 30, 1714, the Queen was seized with apoplexy, and remained in a state of insensibility until Sunday, August 1, when she died.

George I. was no racer, but he discontinued silver plates as prizes, and instituted the King’s Plates, as they have been since termed, being one hundred guineas paid in cash, an alteration which “probably the turf owes more to judicious advisers than to his Majesty’s individual inclination.”[100] George II. neither understood nor appreciated the attractions of horse-racing; but, to encourage the breed of horses, as well as to suppress low gambling, he made some good regulations for the suppression of pony races, and running for any sum under fifty pounds.[101] And among the curiosities of Ascot records is the fact that on one occasion Frederick, Prince of Wales, son of George II., threw a bottle at a winner as it was coming in.

Although George III. was fond of hunting, and kept two packs of hounds, he was no great lover of the turf; his annual visit with his family to Ascot Heath being all the encouragement he gave the sport, if we except a plate of a hundred guineas to be run for by horses that had been regularly hunted with the royal hounds during the preceding winter.

But his son George IV. atoned for all the shortcomings of his predecessors in his love of racing, and in the interest he displayed in everything connected with it. It was in the year 1784 that as Prince of Wales he made his first appearance on the course as the owner of race-horses. For seven seasons he was an enthusiastic patron of the turf, amongst other successes winning the Derby in the year 1788 with Sir Thomas, until the year 1791 when the notorious Escape scandal caused him abruptly to sever his connection with racing—an unfortunate occurrence which was keenly regretted by every lover of sport throughout the kingdom. It appears that on the 20th October 1791 a horse named Escape, the property of the Prince, ran in a race at Newmarket for which it was first favourite, but finished last. On the following day, with six to one betted against him, Escape won easily a race in which two of the horses which had distanced him on the previous day also ran. In both cases Sam Chifney had ridden Escape, and a rumour at once spread that with or without the connivance of his master he had “pulled” the horse for the first race, and had thereby netted several hundreds of pounds. The Jockey Club took the matter up, Sir Charles Bunbury and Messrs. Ralph Dutton and Thomas Panton being the stewards appointed to investigate the affair. The result of their inquiries was an acquittal of the Prince, but they were not satisfied with Chifney’s explanation, and Sir Charles Bunbury went so far as to say that, if Chifney were allowed to ride the Prince’s horses, no gentleman would start against him. But, to the honour of the Prince be it said, rather than sacrifice his servant he gave up his favourite amusement. At the same time, his Royal Highness told Chifney that he should not be likely to keep horses again, but he added, “If ever I do you shall train and manage them. You shall have your two hundred guineas a year just the same. I cannot give it you for your life; I can only give it for my own. You have been an honest and good servant to me.”

Early in the year 1792 the Prince’s stud was brought to the hammer; but, although he ceased to run horses of his own, he did not by any means lose his zest for the sport, and continued largely to patronise and support country races. Thus, the well-known Tom Raikes in his diary has left us a graphic picture of Brighton on a race morning, when the Prince was in one of his best moods, and the ground was covered with “tandems, beautiful women, and light hussars.” “In those days,” writes the diarist, “the Prince made Brighton and Lewes Races the gayest scene of the year in England. The Pavilion was full of guests, and the Steyne was crowded with all the rank and fashion from London. The ‘legs’ and bettors who had arrived in shoals used to assemble on the Steyne at an early hour to commence their operations on the first day, and the buzz was tremendous, till Lord Foley and Mellish, the two great confederates of that day, would approach the ring, and then a sudden silence ensued to await the opening of their books.... About half-an-hour before the departure for the hill, the Prince himself would make his appearance in the crowd. I think I see him now in a green jacket, a white hat, and light nankeen pantaloons and shoes, distinguished by his high-bred manner and handsome person. He was generally accompanied by the Duke of Bedford, Lord Jersey, Charles Wyndham, Shelley, Brummell, M. Day, Churchill, and the little old Jew Travis.... At dinner-time the Pavilion was resplendent with lights, and a sumptuous banquet was furnished to a large party; while those who were not included in that invitation found a dinner with every luxury at the club-house on the Steyne, kept by Raggett during the season for the different members of White’s and Brooke’s who chose to frequent it, and where the cards and dice from St. James’ were not forgotten.”

After a time the Jockey Club seems to have regretted their line of action; and at a meeting, held at Brighton in the year 1805, they addressed the following letter to the Prince:—

“May it please your Royal Highness, the members of the Jockey Club, deeply regretting your absence from Newmarket, earnestly entreat the affair may be buried in oblivion, and sincerely hope that the different meetings may again be honoured by your Highness’s condescending attendance.”

The Prince, it is said, consented to overlook the past, but his horses were never sent to Newmarket after the year 1808, and then only to complete engagements. In addition to Brighton and Lewes, Bibury was his favourite race-ground, where he “appeared as a private gentleman for several years in succession, an inmate of Lord Sherborne’s family, and with the Duke of Dorset, then Lord Sackville, for his jockey. During the last ten years of his Majesty’s life racing interested him more than it had ever done before, and by the encouragement he then gave to Ascot and Goodwood, he contributed towards making them the most fashionable meetings in the world; and perhaps the day on which his three favourite horses—Fleur-de-lis, Zinganee, and the Colonel—came in first, second, and third for the cup at the latter place was one of the proudest of his life.”[102] The love of the turf was with him to the very last, and when the Ascot Cup was run for in the year 1830 under the royal colours he was on his death-bed; and “so strong was the ‘ruling passion’ in this awful hour—and his Majesty was well aware his hour was come—that an express was sent to him after every race.”[103]

His brother, the Duke of York, was almost as keen a lover of the turf as his Majesty himself, “jolly, cursing, courageous Frederick,” as Thackeray calls him. In the year 1816 he was the winner of the Derby with Prince Leopold, and in 1822 with Moses. But the “Duke of York was on the turf what he was everywhere—good-humoured, unsuspecting, and confiding; qualifications, however creditable to human nature, ill-fitted for a race-course.” Hence His Royal Highness was no winner by his horses, and his heavy speculations were the cause of his pecuniary embarrassments. On February 5, 1827, just one month from the date of his death, the Duke’s stud of thirty-two animals, including seven hacks and ten grey ponies, was brought to the hammer. The Duke of Richmond gave 1100 guineas for Moses, while Mr. Payne bought Figaro, that had run Moses in the Derby, at 200 guineas more. The King also gave 560 guineas for Rachel; but, writes “The Druid,” “racers, hacks, carriages, and dogs only produced 8804 guineas—a mere mole-hill compared with the Skiddaw-like pile of debts which he left behind him. Rundell and Bridge, his jewellers, had such an account that Cape Breton was ceded to them in lieu of it by the Government of the day, and his taste in their line may be judged of by the fact that his rifle, which brought 50 guineas, had a gold pan and touch-hole.”

Brought up to the sea, it was not to be expected that William IV. should have any strong predilection for horse-racing. But he so far interested himself in the sport as to take up his brother’s stud and run out his engagements; in connection with which some amusing anecdotes are told illustrative of his simplicity in sporting matters. It seems that previously to the appearance of the royal stud in his Majesty’s name, the trainer sought an audience, and requested to know what horses it was the Royal pleasure to have sent down. “Send down the whole squad,” said the King; “some of them, I suppose, will win!”

And yet his Majesty was fully sensible of the importance of the race-horse as a means of keeping up the English breed of horses, for when at Egham Races, in August 1836, an address was presented to him for giving a Royal Purse of 100 guineas to be annually run for there, he said that he regarded horse-racing as a national sport—“the manly and noble sport of a free people; and that he deeply felt the pride of being able to encourage those pastimes so intimately connected with the habits and feelings of this free country.” And to this end he maintained a stud of about twenty-five blood-mares for the purpose of breeding from the best sires, and sold the produce annually as yearlings—a plan he carried out to the last. But shortly after his death the entire stud was broken up and disposed of, despite the remonstrances of certain members of the Legislature, and the subjoined memorial from the Jockey Club, signed by twenty-three of its leading members:—

“We, the undersigned, have heard with great concern of the probability of a dissolution of the Royal Stud at Hampton Court. We think that the great and permanent attraction of the annual stud sale, by producing competition, enhances the value of thorough-bred horses, and thus promotes the improvement of the breed throughout the kingdom. We trust, therefore, that her Majesty’s Government may be induced to advise the Queen to retain the establishment; and we have the less scruple in expressing this hope, because we are persuaded that under judicious management the proceeds of the sale would be found upon an average to cover all the expenses of maintaining the stud.”

This remonstrance, however, was ineffectual, and the stud was sold by Messrs. Tattersall at Hampton Court on 25th October 1837, the sale realising a total of 15,692 guineas.

And, like many of her royal predecessors, her late Majesty, Queen Victoria, occasionally favoured in the early part of her reign the race-course with her presence, particularly Royal Ascot. And, on one occasion, it is said, she was so pleased with the performance of a very tiny jockey that she sent for him, and presented him with a ten-pound note, at the same time asking him his weight. To the great amusement of the royal circle, he replied, “Please, ma’am, master says as how I must never tell my weight.”

Although horse-racing has been much patronised by foreign sovereigns, as a sport it has never acquired abroad the immense popularity it has so long secured with us as a great national institution. Perhaps one of the most curious incidents associated with royalty was that recorded in the history of Poland. On the death of one of their sovereigns, who ruled under the name of Lesko I., the Poles were so perplexed upon the selection of a successor, that they at last agreed to settle the difficulty by allowing it to be determined by a horse-race.

Many of the French kings patronised horse-racing, and found in it a pleasant and exciting diversion from the cares and anxieties of the state, although it does not always seem to have been free from censure. Thus, for instance, the levity of Marie Antoinette in disregarding conventional rules observed by those in high station, exposed her to blame; and Le Comte de Mercy speaking of her attending horse-races, says: “It is a matter for extreme regret that the Queen habituates herself entirely to forget all that relates to outward dignity.... The horse-races gave occasion to much that was unfortunate and, I will say, unbecoming, as regards the position held by the Queen.... I went to the course in full dress and in my carriage. On reaching the royal tent I found there a large table spread with an ample collation, which was, so to speak, fought for by a crowd of young men unfittingly dressed, who made wild confusion and all kinds of unintelligible noises. In the midst of this mob were the Queen, Madame d’Artois, Madame Elizabeth, and M. le Comte d’Artois. This last personage kept running about, betting, and complaining whenever he lost, pitiably excited if he won, and rushing among the people outside to encourage his jockeys. He actually presented to the Queen a jockey who had won a race.”