CHAPTER VII.
By John Trotwood Moore
The other day I inquired of Uncle Berry how he thought Maria would compare with the best horses of the present day. In reply he said: “If I were forty and Maria four years of age, I would not want a greater fortune than I could win with her at Fordham and Saratago.”
He thinks the improvement in training and the condition of race tracks accounts for the difference in time of this and former days. He thinks if the horses of the present day were galloped, in sweats, sixteen or twenty miles under eight or ten Mackinaw blankets, and every morning and evening galloped four miles and repeat under two or three blankets and ran their races on deep, heavy tracks, as formerly, they would make slow time, and very few of them would be seen on the turf at the age of nine years, and I agree with him.
In old times, in cases of severe fevers, doctors excluded the fresh air and wrapped their patients in blankets, and gave them warm water to drink. The first cargo of Yankee ice brought to New Orleans was thrown into the Mississippi by an order of the Mayor, under advice from the medical board.
I believe that it is conceded that Flying Childers and O’Kelly’s Eclipse were the fastest horses the world has ever produced, or, in the expressive language of John Randolph, “they were the swiftest quadrupeds that ever appeared upon the earth.” Childers was the son of Darley’s Arabian, and Eclipse was his great-great-grandson, and the dam of Eclipse was by Regulus, the best son of Godolphin’s Arabian. These two Arabians were the “diamonds of the desert”—the pure fountains with which we are delighted to connect our thoroughbreds by the unbroken links of an extended chain. The third dam of her sire, imported Diomed, was by Flying Childers and he by Darley’s Arabian (1). The seventh dam of Diomed was by Spanker, he by Young Marsque, he by Marsque (sire of O’Kelly’s Eclipse), he by Squint, he by Bartlett’s Childers (own brother to Flying Childers) and he by Darley’s Arabian. (2) Diomed was by Florizel, whose third dam was by Flying Childers. (3) Florizel was by King Herod, whose fourth dam was by Darley’s Arabian. (4) The dam of Herod was by Blaze, and he by Flying Childers. (5) The dam of Diomed was by Spectator, whose third dam was by Darley’s Arabian. (6) The second dam of Diomed was by Blank, whose dam was by Bartlett’s Childers, own brother to Flying Childers (7), making seven courses of Darley’s Arabian through Diomed, three of which are through Flying Childers and two through his own brother, Bartlett’s Childers.
The dam of Maria was by Taylor’s Bel-Air (the best son of Imported Medley). Medley’s fourth dam was by Bartlett’s Childers (1). Medley was by Gimcrack and he by Cripple, whose second dam was by Flying Childers (2). Medley’s second dam was by Snap, he by Snip, and he by Flying Childers (3), making three courses of Darley’s Arabian through her dam, two of which are by Flying Childers and one through Bartlett’s Childers, making in all ten crosses of Darley’s Arabian in Maria’s pedigree, five of which are through Flying Childers and three through Bartlett’s Childers. Maria has the following crosses of the Godolphin Arabian: The second dam of Diomed was by Blank and he by the Godolphin (1). Bel-Air was by imported Medley, he by Gim Crack, he by Cripple and he by the Godolphin (2). The second dam of Bel-Air was by Black Selima, by imported Fearnought and he by Regulus, the best son of Godolphin (3). The third dam of Bel-Air was imported Selima by the Godolphin (4). If the imported mare to which Maria traces could be identified she would probably add several additional crosses of these famous Arabs.
For the performances of Maria I have relied mainly upon her memoir published in the sixth volume of the American Turf Register, which was written by Judge Thos. Barry, of Gallatin, who obtained the facts from Captain Haney in his lifetime, which are corroborated substantially by Uncle Berry.
In my last communication, in referring to the race of Blucher and Walk-in-the-Water at Natchez, I made a mistake as the time when the Jockey Club changed the rule taking twenty-one pounds off of Blucher. It was not done the night before the race, as stated, but it occurred some time before. It was the evening before the race that Col. A. L. Bingaman, a member of the Club, moved to have the rule rescinded so as to make their weight equal, but his motion was voted down, and Blucher carried one hundred pounds and Walk-in-the-Water one hundred and twenty-one pounds.
B. C. Oscar, foaled in spring of 1814, bred by the Rev. Hubbard Saunders, of Sumner County, Tennessee, stood without a rival on the Tennessee turf in his day. He never paid a forfeit or lost a heat, nor did he ever meet a competitor able to put him to his top speed. His pedigree is not only pure, but rich and choice. He was got by Wilkes’ Wonder (he by Imported Diomed out of Mary Gray by Tippoo Saib, the dam of Pacolet).
First dam—Rosey Clack, by Imp. Saltram.
Second dam—Camilla, by Symmes’ Wildair, the best son of Imp. Fearnought.
Third dam—Minerva, by Imp. Obscurity.
Fourth dam—Diana, by Clodius.
Fifth dam—Sally Painter, by Imp. Sterling.
Sixth dam—Imp Silver, by Belsize Arabian.
Seventh dam—By Croft’s Partner.
Eighth dam—Sister to Roxana, by Bald Galloway.
Ninth dam—By Akaster Turk.
Tenth dam—By Leeds’ Arabian.
Eleventh dam—By Spanker.
This pedigree, in the language of my late friend, the Rev. Hardy M. Cryer, “is pure as the icicle which hung at the north corner of Diana’s Temple.”
Oscar was a dark bay, of uniform color, with black points, full fifteen hands three inches high, owned and run by that high-toned gentleman, Dr. Roger B. Sappington, of Nashville. He was a horse of commanding presence, possessing great power, especially in the shoulders and chest, in which he resembled the lion, high, oblique withers, short back, prominent hips, hindquarters rather light, when contrasted with his shoulders and chest, stifles and hocks excellent and limbs superior, hind feet well under him, with a head, eye and windpipe which could not be surpassed. He reminded me of Uncle Berry’s answer to my questions about the head, limbs and action of Ball’s Florizel. He said: “His head was all mouth and nostrils, and he could stand with all his feet in a washtub.” Oscar won his first race, a sweepstake, in October, 1817, over the Nashville course, two mile heats, one hundred dollars entrance, which he won with the greatest ease, beating Mr. James Jackson’s McDhane (by imported Eagle, out of his imported mare, Virginia, by imported Daredevil) and Dr. Butler’s splendid filly, by Pacolet. The next day he walked over the course for the club purse.
In May, 1818, he won over the same course a jockey club purse, four mile heats, beating with ease General Jackson’s Gun Boat, by Pacolet. Gun Boat was withdrawn after the first heat. In October, 1818, over the same course, he won the jockey club purse, four-mile heats, beating with ease at two heats, Mr. Morton’s horse, by Potomac, and Colonel Elliott’s (Uncle Berry’s) horse, by imported Whip. This Whip colt belonged to Uncle Berry, whose history is as follows: Uncle Berry volunteered in Capt. John W. Byrns’ light-horse company early in the Creek War and served out his term under Gen. Jackson, for which he now is and has been for about twelve months in the receipt of a pension of ninety-six dollars per annum, payable quarterly. He commenced to receive this pension under the late Act of Congress, in the ninety-fifth year of his age. He said to me the other day: “I am sorry the government don’t pay it all at once, for twenty-four dollars won’t buy anything, and it is always gone before the next payment arrives.” When his term of service expired he was about to re-volunteer, but Colonel Elliott, who was then in command of a regiment in the army, persuaded him to return home and look after the women and children and blood stock, which he reluctantly consented to do. After spending some time in Tennessee, he visited a friend, Colonel Faulkner, of Garrard County, Ky., who invited him to examine a lot of two-year-old colts, some of which he contemplated entering in a sweepstake, to come off the ensuing fall. On returning to the house, Mrs. Faulkner inquired of Uncle Berry what he thought of her colt, to which he replied: “I consider him, Madam, the best of the lot,” at which she was very much gratified and begged that he would enter, train and run the colt in the stake, to which he consented, and won the race with ease. He purchased this colt of Mrs. Faulkner, brought him to Tennessee, where he won several races, and was entered by Colonel Elliott in the four-mile race against Oscar, as above stated.
It was about the time of Oscar’s appearance on the turf that the first Jockey Club was established at Nashville, by the most distinguished men of Tennessee, among them General Jackson, Colonel Ed. Ward, General Carroll, James Jackson, Dr. Sappington, Dr. Shelby, Dr. McNairy, Dr. Butler, William Williams, Colonel Elliott, Newton Cannon and other leading citizens of the State.
During the absence of Colonel Elliott and Uncle Berry, Dr. Sappington employed Monkey Simon to ride for him, and when the race last above mentioned came off, Simon rode Oscar against Whip, the latter owned and run by his old friends and favorites, Col. Elliott and Uncle Berry. Some uneasiness was manifested by the friends of Oscar, who was high-strung and difficult to control, lest Simon should suffer himself to exhaust himself early and thereby lose the race. This suspicion was altogether groundless, for Simon always rode to win, if possible, and if he had a weakness it was in being too eager for success in a close contest. At the tap of the drum Oscar went off under a tremendous head of steam, and, in spite of all Simon’s exertions to restrain him, was soon fifty or sixty yards ahead, which served to increase the doubts of Simon’s fidelity. Dr. Shelby dashed across the field and ordered Simon in a most peremptory tone to hold his horse, to which Simon replied, in his characteristic style: “You d—d fool, don’t you see his mouth is wide open?” And Simon would have made the same reply to General Jackson under the same circumstances.
The General said to Simon on one occasion, just before the horses started in a very important race: “Now, Simon, when my horse comes up and is about to pass you, don’t spit your tobacco juice in his eyes and the eyes of his rider, as you sometimes do;” to which Simon replied: “Well, Gineral, I’ve rode a good deal agin your horses, but (with an oath) none were ever near enough to catch my spit.” On another occasion, after Maria had beaten the General’s favorite, Pacolet, and when no friend dared to take a liberty with him, Simon, meeting him in a large crowd, said: “Gineral, you were always ugly, but now you’re a show. I could make a fortune by showing you as you now look if I had you in a cage where you could not hurt the people who come to look at you.”
Many years ago I was riding on horseback with Colonel Elliott to the Nashville races, and when we reached a point about one mile from the ferry at Nashville, on the Gallatin road, he observed: “Here is the place where negroes were annually hired in old times, and where I have often hired Simon, who, on account of his deformity and dissipated habits, usually cost me from twelve to fifteen dollars per annum. On one occasion Col. Robert C. Foster, guardian of the minor children to whom Simon belonged, conceiving it to be his duty, bid against me and ran Simon up to thirty-odd dollars, the then price of a good field hand. I concluded to drop Simon on the Colonel’s hands and take the chance of hiring him privately. Simon watched the bidding with the deepest interest, as he was most anxious to remain in the stable and enjoy the fame and emoluments of riding Haney’s Maria and other distinguished winners. When I indicated that I would bid no more, Simon turned to the Colonel and said, in his peculiarly sarcastic manner, with his head laid back and one eye closed: ‘Colonel Foster, by G—, I am not a sellin’ but hirin’ for only one year.’ The Colonel, who was a man of high spirit and great dignity, replied, shaking his cane at Simon: ‘You impudent scoundrel, do you know who you are talking to?’ Simon, with the most aggravating coolness, replied: ‘I think I do, and if I am not mistaken, you are the same gentleman who made a small ’speriment for governor once,’ alluding to a race the Colonel had made for governor, under very unfavorable circumstances, in which he was badly beaten. The witticism of Simon created much mirth, amidst which Colonel Elliott got him at the next bid.”
The purses at that period were unworthy of the attention of so superior a horse, and Dr. Sappington had neither the means nor disposition to travel or run him for heavy matches; Oscar was, therefore, when sound in all respects and in the prime of his racing career, withdrawn from the turf and died at eleven years old, the property of General R. Desha and Mr. Isaac Bledsoe, of Sumner County, where he left some fine running stock, although he never served more than two or three thoroughbred mares.
The above ends Bailie Peyton’s interesting reminiscences of early horses and horsemen. Mr. Peyton passed away many years ago, but his name will live in the political and horse history of the State. He was a remarkable man, a gentleman of the old school, a lawyer and a politician who ranked with the great men of his day, while his knowledge on the subject quoted above is authority.
His interesting account of the early historical horse reminds me of another incident, with which I shall close this chapter, being in line with the account of Mr. Peyton, the story of a pair of horses that helped make American history.
Horses have figured so often in the affairs of our country—they have helped us out of so many close places, so to speak—that a most interesting book could be written about the historical horses of America. There was Washington’s famous war horse, Paul Revere’s sprinter, Sheridan’s charger, General Lee’s Traveler, Stonewall Jackson’s old sorrel, Gen. John Adams’ old Charley, who died on the breastworks of Franklin—in fact, as I said, a most readable book could be written of the historical horses of America.
To-day I shall write about a pair of horses which played a most important part in a most critical moment of our history. We have single horses in plenty which have gone hand in hand with man in making history and fame, but this is the only instance in our history that I can find where a pair of horses accomplished the purpose. It is a part of the unwritten history of the West, but every word of it is true, as I have been able to gather it from old letters of pioneers, and old histories long since gone out of print.
The most critical period of American history was that right after the Revolutionary war, when the States were debating on the question of the new constitution and the West—Kentucky, Tennessee and Ohio—were uncertain whether they had any rights which anybody else was bound to respect.
For the first ten years after the Revolutionary war the most dangerous foe the young Republic had was the great, but waning empire of Spain. At that time the States were a narrow strip on the Atlantic stretching from Maine to Florida, and practically bounded by the Appalachian Mountains. England had large claims on the Great Lakes and extending down nearly to the Ohio, and Spain owned nearly everything else, holding all the territory bordering on the Gulf from Florida to Mexico, extending up into the present States of Alabama, Mississippi and Louisiana. In this instance Louisiana meant really all that vast domain which lay west of the Mississippi, stretching clear up to the present State of Oregon. The great Mississippi river flowed for a long way through Spanish possessions, and Spain, foolhardy and narrow then as to-day, and wishing to do the young Republic all the harm she could, closed the river to American commerce, an act which meant stagnation and ruin to the young territories of the West. For these border settlers were altogether an agricultural people and a great wilderness infested by hostile Indians lay between them and the older States. What they raised for sale had to pass down the Mississippi river.
And they increased rapidly in Tennessee, Ohio and Kentucky, and, moreover, they were of that stock of people who would not be fooled with. They looked upon the great river as God-given and they did not understand how an arrogant nation living across the ocean, could deprive them of their natural rights. But that was not all. Spain was then as now cruel and vindictive, and while professing friendship for these people she secretly armed the savages and encouraged them to kill all the settlers west of the Alleghanies. And that they came near doing this the early records of Tennessee and Kentucky attest. The Indians murdered them day and night. But for a few heroic men and Indian fighters like Sevier, Robertson and Shelby, they had been entirely exterminated. But they increased in spite of everything, and naturally accumulating both in numbers and products, they wanted a market for their stuff. They asked aid of Congress, but Congress seemed to have troubles of her own just then and paid no attention to them, except to send John Jay over to treat with Spain about it. But Jay could do nothing, and it seems fell into the Spanish idea, for he sent in a report to Congress recommending a treaty with Spain which should close the Mississippi to commerce for twenty-five years. Jay explained that the right to use the river could only be acquired by a war with Spain, for which the United States was unprepared; that the matter was not important now, and that in twenty-five years the country would be strong enough to do as they wished. New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania and New England voted for this resolution, but the Southern States opposed it, and it failed to pass by only two votes.
The Western people became indignant. Public meetings were held everywhere from the Watauga settlement, in East Tennessee, to Kentucky, and the remoter West. “To inclose us in a Chinese wall, to prohibit the navigation of the Mississippi, to sell us and make us vassals to the merciless Spaniards, is a grievance not to be borne,” they said. So great was their discontent that strong talk was indulged in, and it began to be feared that they would have to organize a government of their own, since their own Congress would give them no assistance. The attorney-general of Kentucky wrote to the President of Congress: “I am decidedly of the opinion that this Western country will, in a few years, act for itself and erect an independent government; for under the present system we cannot exert our strength, neither does Congress seem disposed to help us.” In fact, things soon came to such a pass that one of two things would happen: the West would form a government of their own or the Mississippi must be opened for them. I shall show how a smart, brainy rascal and a pair of Kentucky geldings accomplished the opening of the river and saved the West to the Union.
James Wilkerson was his name, and a smoother, brainier, more ambitious and more unscrupulous scamp never figured but once before in American history—and that was his prototype, Aaron Burr. I have no space for his history. Suffice to say that he was one of the cabal who rose to some prominence in the war and who tried to oust Washington and put Gates in command of the army. Later events proved him to be an unscrupulous politician, and he moved to Kentucky. Kentucky must have had great horses even in those days, for Wilkerson got rich trading. He had a fine eye for good horses, and in his trafficking he got hold of a pair of beautiful geldings. Pork in the West was only a dollar and a half per hundred, corn ten cents a bushel and tobacco rotting in the fields, all owing to the great river being closed to American commerce. Wilkerson conceived a brilliant idea. He could get fabulous prices for all these articles in the Spanish city of New Orleans. He loaded an immense flat boat—several of them—with these articles and set them afloat on the great river. He himself got up a handsome retinue, took a pair of beautiful geldings and went overland to the first Spanish fort at Natchez. It was a big risk he ran, for it had been tried before, and every time the Spanish garrison had stopped the boats with their guns, called them in and confiscated the cargoes. Wilkerson went right to the Spanish commander, Don Gayoso de Lamos, at Natchez, who was a scamp after Wilkerson’s own heart, and there he began his game. He fascinated Lamos with his talk, his elegance, his wit and his learning. He convinced Lamos that he was the greatest and most influential man in the West, and could command an army of twenty thousand Westerners. He got Lamos drunk—no difficult task—and finally, as the flat boats neared, he began to talk horse to him. Mr. Lamos loved a good one, too—in fact he could talk on that subject all night, and so he and Wilkerson played cards and drank wine and talked horse until they became boon chums and companions. But all the time Wilkerson was holding back his trump card for the last. He kept the beautiful pair of Kentucky geldings safely in the background, well groomed and on their mettle. Then his men reported that his boats were coming—that they would be under the guns of Natchez the next day. Early that day Wilkerson brought out his beautiful geldings and called on the charming Mr. Don Gayoso de Lamos. Would Mr. Don walk with him to the grass plat on the bluff? Would he accept a trifling little gift, a token of his great admiration and everlasting friendship for the mighty Mr. Don? Certainly he would. No one ever heard of a Don refusing anything. When the blankets were taken off the Don could not contain his admiration. What beauties they were! How their coats shone! He hugged Wilkerson and then he hugged the horses. He talked fast and his eyes glittered and he was immensely merry. Then a gun boomed from the fort.
“What is it?” asked the Don.
“It was some flat boats loaded with produce,” so said the officer, “and must he sink them or call them in?”
Then Wilkerson explained carelessly that they were his, going to New Orleans, and that he had on them some trifling things like butter and eggs and tobacco for his Majesty’s people there, and he hoped they might be allowed to pass on.
The Don looked at the boats and he looked at the officer and then he looked long and lovingly at the horses—and they won, by a neck. He waved his hand to the officer and said:
“Let them pass. Let them report to Miro, at New Orleans.”
And so Wilkerson and his horses won, and for the first time an American cargo went down the great river unmolested.
At New Orleans Wilkerson played a different game. He tried to wheedle and frighten the Spanish commander by turns. He told him he could bring enough riflemen there to wipe out Spain’s troops, but that in reality the Westerners were tired of the Republic and would go under the protection of Spain if the latter showed them any favors, such as opening up the river to their trade, and thus playing on Spain’s fear, credulity, vanity and ambitions, he accomplished his purpose, finally ending in Spain opening up the river, and later, from fear, selling out the last remnant of her once mighty empire of virgin land in the North American country.
But it was Wilkerson and his Kentucky geldings that did it, after John Jay and Congress had failed.
(Continued.)
A New Industry in the South—Tea Raising in Texas.