“KING JAMES I.'s love of racing,” writes a trustworthy chronicler of the movements at the court of James I. and Charles I. “was due to the importation into England of the first Arab horse ever seen here.”

That simple statement records one of the most important incidents that has occurred in the development of the horse in this country, an incident that subsequently proved to be of great moment in connection with the history of Great Britain. For though the assertion has many times been controverted, careful research proves beyond doubt that until the arrival in England of the Markham Arabian—which in after generations was to become so greatly renowned—no Arab of any sort had been brought into this country.

The stories that have been told of this, the first of the famous Eastern sires, are numerous, and, as is usual in such cases, the majority of them are apparently untrue.

One of the most widely circulated of the misstatements was to the effect that the price paid by King James to Mr Markham for this particular Arab sire was not less than £500, and in papers and books almost innumerable, in which the Markham Arabian is mentioned, this false statement is repeated.

That it is false beyond dispute is proved by the actual entry of the purchase that may be seen to this day in the Exchequer or Receipt Order Books in the Public Record Office. The entry runs as follows:—

“Item the 20th of December, 1616, paid to Master Markham for the Arabian Horse for His Majesty's own use, £154, 0. 0.”

It is almost inconceivable that anyone can seriously have believed that £500, or any sum approaching it, could have been paid for this sire, for at that period no sum approaching £500 ever was paid for any horse, the purchasing value of money being until after the reign of James I. so much in excess of its purchasing value some two centuries later.

That several thoroughbred Eastern sires were bought by James is well known, among the last to which reference is made by the historians being the famous Villiers Arabs, which the king does not appear to have acquired until towards the end of his reign.

Yet in spite of all that has been said and written about John Markham's stallion, the horse was not, according to that excellent judge of horses, the Duke of Newcastle, the class of animal that any man would have chosen to breed from for looks, for, in the duke's own words, “He [the Markham Arabian] was a bay, but a little horse, and no rarity for shape; for I have seen many English horses far finer.... Mr Markham sold him to the King for five hundred pounds (sic), and being trained up for a course, when he came to run, every horse beat him.”

I believe I am right in saying that the identity of John Markham has never been positively traced, also that the consensus of opinion inclines to the belief that he was the father of the famous author, Gervase Markham, who for many years held the post of keeper of Clipston Shraggs Walk, in Sherwood Forest.

Among the works of Gervase Markham is a volume entitled “Cavalarice, or the English Horseman,” in which many grotesque and unintentionally humorous passages are to be found.

Each of the eight books which together go to make up this work is dedicated to some distinguished personage, of whom James I. is one, and Henry, Prince of Wales, another.

To James I. we are probably indebted for the existence of the town of Newmarket, for it is certain that he not only inaugurated the construction of the village, but in addition brought his influence to bear upon its development, and that he greatly helped to stimulate the interest which the people of Newmarket and the neighbourhood already took in the breeding and training of running horses. It may be partly for this reason that Newmarket is still so often spoken of as “the royal village.”

Notwithstanding the disappointment the Markham Arabian must have afforded James I., we read that the king offered a silver bell of considerable value to be run for at Newmarket, that the entries for the race were numerous, and that “the event gave rise to much speculation, wagering and public interest.”

It was, indeed, in this connection that Ben Jonson wrote so caustically, or rather satirically, in his famous “Alchemist,” and alluded incidentally to “the rules to cheat at horse races.”

Elsewhere Jonson describes, and mentions by name, some of the race horses that probably were well known on the Turf at about that period.

Seeing how keen the interest was that James I. took almost from boyhood in all that related to the Turf, and to the breeding of race horses, we can hardly be surprised to hear that during his reign the general interest in the breeding of “great horses,” which had been so marked a feature of Henry VIII.'s reign, also of Elizabeth's reign, at one time threatened to die out.

Robert Reyce speaks of this in his “Breviary of Suffolk,” a book which he dedicated to Sir Robert Crane, of Chiltern, and elsewhere allusions are to be found to the decay of interest in the breeding of “great horses.”

Indeed James appears to have admitted quite openly that the bare sight of the animals bored him “owing to the clumsy appearance they presented,” a view that is shared to-day by several of the more prominent of our owners of race horses.

Under the circumstances it is amusing to find the king himself inditing a ponderous treatise “for the instruction and edification of his son,” Henry, Prince of Wales, a treatise suitably enough entitled “Religio Regis: or the Faith and Duty of a Prince.”

Apparently he wrote the greater part of this work at Newmarket, for in it he alludes more than once to the races which were being held there at the time, races at which he had been present on the day he wrote.

That he deemed horsemanship to be a form of exercise of inestimable value becomes obvious as we read “Religio Regis”; but then in the reign of almost every monarch from about the beginning of the Stuart period down to the time of the four Georges great stress is laid by the various sovereigns upon the advisability that the sons of the nobles and of the aristocracy should become proficient horsemen.

The author of “The Court of King James” also is emphatic in his advice to courtiers “to be very forwardly inclined to bring up horses,” adding that such horses should be bred from the best strains only, and that no matter how great the sum expended in order to secure good strains, the money could not be looked upon as wasted.

Of the royal studs in the reign of James I., the most important probably were those at Newmarket, at Eltham, at Tutbury, Malmesbury and Cole Park, and among the manuscripts in the British Museum there may be seen to-day an interesting list of the “necessaries” which appertained to the royal stables, all classified under separate headings—geldings, cart horses, coursers, hunters, battle horses, and so on.

Remarks upon the part played by the horse in history at about this time are to be found also in Lodge's “Illustrations of British History,” where, in the third volume, we read that on 6th April 1605 there arrived at Greenwich Palace “a dozen gallant mares, all with foal, four horses, and eleven stallions, all coursers of Naples.”

These the archduke begged King James to accept as a small mark of the esteem in which the king was held by himself and his country-men.

In the historical records of almost the whole of James I.'s reign we find reference made repeatedly to race horses, also to the sport of hunting. An important fixture, as we should call it to-day, apparently was the Chester Meeting. It took place on St George's Day, and the chief race was known as “The St George's Cup.” The riders carried ten stone, and the entrance stake was half-a-crown.

A quaint rule in connection with this race was that the winning owner had to contribute to a fund for the benefit of the prisoners confined in the North Gate jail “the sum of six shillings and eightpence or three shillings and fourpence, on certain conditions.”

In addition to the cup, silver bells were run for at this meeting, and it is interesting to learn that before removing their prizes the cup winner and the bell winners were compelled to deposit “adequate security”—presumably with the race committee—for these trophies. For all the principal trophies had to be run for again at the following meeting, and we are told quite seriously that it was feared that if the temporary owners were allowed to remove these prizes without leaving any security they might have been disposed to make away with them before the date of the next meeting!

At the Chester Meeting, and therefore presumably elsewhere, the sheriff acted as starter, “and if any rider committed foul play during the race he was disqualified in case he won.”

About the year 1624, however, certain changes were made in the rules of racing, and from that time onward some of the races were run five times round the course instead of only three times, also the winner of a cup became entitled to retain it as his property “upon the first occasion of gaining it.”

Professional jockeys in the reign of James I. held, in a sense, quite a good position. The king associated with them frequently, especially at Newmarket. Indeed, he openly admitted that he preferred the company of sportsmen to that of politicians, and that the surroundings of the racecourse and the pleasures of the chase attracted him far more than did the business of the state.

His enemies, as we know, took advantage of these carelessly uttered assertions when later they set to work to encompass his downfall, and during the closing years of his reign he was made to suffer unjustly for many of the minor follies of his youth.

It was wholly characteristic of James that he should upon one occasion—he was staying at Croydon at the time in order to attend the race meeting that was held there in Easter week—have in a sudden access of emotional enthusiasm created his friend, Philip Herbert, a knight, a baron and a viscount in the course of a few minutes.

This he is said to have done in order to mark his appreciation of Herbert's self-control when, after being struck in the face by a Scotsman named Ramsey, Herbert refrained from hitting back.

Though the king and all his courtiers and many strangers were present upon the occasion, Herbert did not betray the least sign of annoyance, though the blow was a severe one.

It should be borne in mind that during James's reign the Scots had, as a nation, come to be almost execrated, so that the affront was all the greater.

The king is said to have expressed it as his opinion that under the circumstances Philip Herbert's self-restraint came near to being heroic!

As James's fondness for racing increased, so did the great majority of his nobles, his barons and his courtiers profess to grow fonder of the sport, while many soon took to gambling with great recklessness.

This the king apparently encouraged them to do, for we learn that he was “wont to laugh heartily when told that some of his sycophants had lost exceptionally large sums of money,” or, as was frequently the case, that one or other of them had been compelled to part with a portion of his estates in order to meet debts of honour. The women of the court also aped the king at this time, as indeed they appear to have done in almost every age. Yet their losses were small by comparison with the sums lost on the Turf by their daughters and granddaughters in the reign of Charles II., half-a-century or so later.

Two years after James I. had ascended the throne there set in one of the coldest winters this country has ever known, with the result that a long stretch of the River Ouse became frozen over and so afforded the king an opportunity, of which he was quick to avail himself, of organising a race-meeting on the ice.

Drake tells us that the course extended “from the tower at the end of Marygate, under the great arch of the bridge, to the crane at Skeldergate Postern.”

But even so early as this in the reign of King James the opponents of horse racing began to raise indignant protests against “the folly and wickedness of betting on running horses,” protests to which but scant attention was paid.

Not until some years later did the extremely zealous clergyman named Hinde set seriously to work to denounce the practice of gambling in any and every form, and he appears then to have spoken and written so forcibly that many persons of intelligence and education—I quote from a trustworthy source—gathered round and strove to encourage him to the best of their ability.

Racing in particular he waged war against, declaring it to be “an exercise of profaneness diligently followed by many of our gentlemen and by many of inferior rank also.” Great injury, he maintained, was done by men of rank and others “who of their weekly and almost daily meetings, and matches on their bowling greens, or their lavish betting of great wagers in such sorry trifles, and of their stout and strong abbeting of so sillie vanaties amongst hundreds, sometimes thousands, of rude and vile persons to whom they should give better, and not so bad example and encouragement, as to be idle in neglecting their callings; wasteful in gaming, and spending their means; wicked in cursing and swearing, and dangerously profane in their brawling and quarrelling.”

These observations, and many more to the same effect, are to be found in the “Biography of Bruen”; yet in the long run the diatribes made but little difference, for the passion for gambling had taken a firm hold of the people of almost all classes, and while it lasted it flourished exceedingly.

We do not hear of many famous horses during the reign of James I., save the sires which the king himself imported; yet it is certain that the popularity of the horse increased during the first two decades of the seventeenth century, quite apart from the popularity that betting upon horse races continued to acquire.

As a natural result, perhaps, greater attention soon came to be paid to the management and care of horses, to feeding and exercising them, so that probably the owners of the thoroughbreds of those days had begun to realise, as they do not appear to have done before, that a horse's working years may be considerably prolonged if he be fed carefully and exercised regularly.

Indeed the crass ignorance that until about this time had prevailed with regard to the treatment of sick horses comes near to being ludicrous. Superstition, as we know, was rampant in connection with the curing of suffering humanity, and various forms of superstition extended in a great measure to the treatment of animals that were out of health.

Thus we read of horses supposed to be possessed by evil spirits, when what they probably were suffering from was an attack of simple staggers; of witches being consulted when a horse went lame, and paid liberally for their grotesque advice, and so on to the end.

That horses so often went lame at about this period was due probably to the ignorance of many of the farriers of the very rudiments of practical farriery.

In Ireland, possibly also in parts of England, a horse with what is called to-day a “wall” eye was looked upon as a harbinger of evil, and deemed likely to bring bad luck, especially upon the family and relatives of the man who owned it; while any man so “ill-advised” as to breed a fearsome creature of this kind often was afterwards glanced at askance by persons who before he had numbered amongst his friends.

Then there existed also a superstitious belief in connection with a horse with a white hoof, but what this particular superstition was I have not been able to discover. Apparently the owner of a horse so marked was glad enough to get rid of it for a sum much below its true worth, and generally he deemed himself fortunate if able to sell such a horse at all.

An instance is on record of a weakly foal being left out all night in a snowstorm as a superstitious test. We are told that it died of exposure, and that its owner at once thanked God for His mercy in having taken from him a creature born with an evil spirit, the inference being that but for the alleged evil spirit the little foal would have been able to withstand the rigour of the blizzard and the intense cold.

Stolen horses in particular were believed to possess a supernatural power that would enable them to find their way home to their rightful masters if they succeeded in escaping from the thief. But plenty of horses, as we know, are to-day able to find their way home from a long way off, horses that have not necessarily been stolen.

In justice let it be said that James laughed to scorn the majority of these superstitious beliefs. This is strange, for in some respects he must have been almost as superstitious as many of his courtiers—and for that matter as the great bulk of his subjects.

Partial to tall horses, he expressed a wish that his nobles should not ride cobs, deeming such animals to be out of keeping with the majesty of the court.

It was probably for this reason that he strove to encourage his subjects to ride tall horses.

Then, though several historians appear to take it for granted that the Turkish horse was unknown in England until the arrival of the famous Byerley Turk in 1689, we may rest assured that Turkish horses were here in James's time, and probable before his time. Blunderville is only one of the early writers who say so in so many words. Incidentally he mentions that fully a century before the Byerley Turk was brought over he himself had seen “horses come from Turkey, as well into Italie as thither into England, indifferentlie faire to the eie, tho' not verie great nor stronglie made, yet very light and swift in their running, and of great courage.”

Also we read that about the year 1617 “half-a-dozen Barbry horses” were brought to England by Sir Thomas Edmonds and stabled at Newmarket in the royal paddocks.

A quaint description is to be found in the works of several of the writers in James I.'s reign of an accident that befell the king in December of the year 1621 as he was riding after dinner, an accident that in spite of its undeniable grotesqueness might well have proved disastrous.

The king, it seems, had “gone abroad early in the day, and to Theobald's to dinner.” He appears to have enjoyed his dinner at Theobald's greatly, and to have decided quite suddenly, as soon as the meal was over, that he would like “to ride on horseback abroad.”

The accident that presently was to occur is attributed by different writers to different causes, the most charitable of the reports being to the effect that the king's horse stumbled and threw his royal master on to the frozen surface of the New River “with so much violence that the ice brake and he fell in so that nothing but his boots were seen.”

Sir Richard Young, who chanced to be riding just behind him, instantly sprang off his horse and succeeded with the help of a friend, though only with great difficulty, in dragging the dripping monarch “out of the hole and his undignified predicament.”

According to another chronicler, “there came much water out of his mouth and body,” yet “His Majesty rid back to Theobald's, went into a warme bed, and, as we heere, is well, which God continue.”

That the king had a sense of humour is made manifest by the statement that upon his recovery he laughed heartily at the recollection of the incident, while we are further told that his gratitude to Sir Richard Young, his rescuer, “did not stop short at the hearty grasp of the hand he gave him.”

Mention has already been made of James's strange literary work, “Religio Regis: or the Faith and Duty of a Prince.” This is said to have been written during the King's temporary residence at Newmarket “for the betterment of his health” (sic).

It was produced primarily for “the instruction and edification” of his son, Henry, at that time Prince of Wales, but it came to be read widely by his nobles and all about the court.

In this remarkable treatise we are told that “the honourablest and most commendable Games that a king can use are on Horseback, for it becomes a Prince above all Men to be a good Horseman. And use such Games on Horseback as may teach you to handle your Arms thereon, such as Tilt, Ring, and low-riding for handling your sword....

“As for hunting, the most honourable and noblest Sport thereof is with running Hounds; for it is a thievish sport of hunting to shoot with Guns and Bows....

“However, in using either of these Sports observe such Moderation that you slip not therewith Hours appointed for your Affairs, which you ought ever precisely to keep; remembering that these Pastimes are but ordain'd for you to enable you for your Office, to which you are call'd by your Birth.”

Before the close of James's reign the Turf bore every sign of having been granted a fresh lease of life. Private riding matches among men of rank and wealth had become popular again, and though some of these were “'cross-country matches,” plenty were ridden on the flat, upon which occasions vast sums of money were run for almost always.

Of these races one that seems to have attracted much attention was run in the year 1622, for a cup valued at twelve pounds, when the crowd that assembled was one of the biggest at that time on record.

The wagers that were made were mostly in large sums, and we are told that, to the surprise of the majority of the betting men “and their subsequent discomfiture,” the race, in which there were six “tryers,” was won by an outsider, the property of a popular sportsman, Sir George Bowes.

The judge in this race was a Mr Humphrey Wyvell, and so greatly annoyed did the crowd become at the defeat of the favourite that they made a desperate attempt to attack the judge, with the intention of injuring him seriously, an attempt that fortunately was frustrated.

We are not told if the king was present upon this occasion, but the principal racing men of the period undoubtedly were there. The king himself attended a meeting at Lincoln in the spring of 1617, where he lost very heavily.

Towards the end of this reign strong opposition to the increasing popularity of racing began to manifest itself among what we should to-day call the middle class, owing, so it was said, to the sport being vigorously denounced from pulpit and platform as a growing national evil, “one likely to imperil the whole country's prosperity.”

For some time the king strove to smother these denunciations, and he even partially succeeded in the attempt.

Yet in the end the people must have triumphed, for we read that James was still on the throne when some of the more popular of the flat-race meetings were tacitly allowed to be abandoned, while in 1620 the meeting which usually had been held at Thetford was directly suppressed by an order of the Privy Council.

Among the most important of the private riding matches, as they were then called, that took place in James's reign was the one arranged at Newmarket between Lord Haddington and Lord Sheffield.

Run at Huntingdon towards the end of the year 1607, the race was extremely exciting from start to finish. Both men appear to have been good riders, and the stake run for is said to have amounted to a considerable sum.

Yet the various accounts of the match give versions which differ widely as to what happened, and while one writer declares that Lord Haddington won with difficulty, another contradicts him by maintaining that the stake was awarded to Lord Sheffield.

With regard to the pictures that are said to have been drawn from life in those days, if they are true to life it becomes obvious that some three centuries ago it was not customary for race riders, or “tryers,” to stand in their stirrups while riding races, as they do to-day and most certainly did in the last century and the century before it. This is strange, for some of the earliest of our writers who touch incidentally upon the subject of race riding are rather emphatic in declaring that the jockey should get rid of all “dead” weight, and of course it is chiefly by standing in the stirrups that “dead” weight can be neutralised.

James I. would seem to have paid more attention to the theory of training horses he intended to run than any of his predecessors did, though this is not great praise, so ignorant of the fundamental principles of scientific training were the horse owners of about that period.

Upon slight provocation horses were freely bled, just as human beings were bled or “leeched” less than a hundred years ago. Indeed we read of one horse that was bled while in the hunting field, owing to its having proved too restive for its owner to ride with comfort (!); while another was driven into a leech pond in order that the leeches might suck off “the goodlie warts” with which its belly and thighs were studded.

So far as I have been able to ascertain, about a century and a half ago the leech cure was deemed quite the best for warts. Yet perhaps we are wrong to think or to speak contemptuously of the ignorance of our forefathers. Who can say that in years to come our descendants may not speak as contemptuously of us—their ancestors—because we fired horses, and because we drenched them with physic for various ailments?

Indeed there are already veterinary surgeons who aver that to fire a horse under any circumstances is to commit a grave blunder, and that firing as a general practice ought emphatically to be abandoned.