The turn of the British Museum came lately, where a strange “Mischmasch” of works of art, natural curiosities, books, and models, are preserved in a miserable building.
At the top of the staircase, as you enter, stand two enormous giraffes, in the character of stuffed guards, or emblems of English taste! There is, doubtless, much that is interesting in the various apartments. I confess, however, to my shame, that I must be in a peculiarly favourable state of mind not to have an attack of indigestion after such a surfeit of sights. Among the antediluvian remains I saw an enormous and remarkably perfect pair of stag’s antlers, at least six times as large as the largest of those which friend C—— keeps in the stag-gallery of his castle. In a huge shed are deposited the noble Elgin Marbles, as they are here called.
A bust of Hippocrates struck me as being so perfect a representation of the physician by profession, that here in England one can hardly look at it without putting one’s hand in one’s pocket.[11] I looked at the celebrated Portland Vase with all the enthusiasm it is calculated to excite. I send you two little works on the Vase and the Elgin Marbles, with very tolerable outline engravings. But I must now quit you to give orders about packing; for to-morrow I mean to start for Newmarket races.
Newmarket, Oct. 19th.
The beauty of the country, and the extraordinary neatness and elegance of every place through which my road lay to-day, struck me anew in the most agreeable manner. These fertile and well-cultivated fields; these thousands of comfortable and pretty farm-houses and cottages scattered over every part of the country; this incessant stream of elegant carriages, well-mounted horsemen, and well-dressed foot-passengers, are peculiar to England. The beautiful picture has but one fault,—it is all too cultivated, too perfect; thence always and everywhere the same, and consequently, in the long run, wearisome:—indeed I can even conceive that it must become distasteful in time, like a savoury dish of dainties to the stomach of a sated man. This may explain the great taste of the English for travelling on the Continent. It is just so in life,—the thing men can the least bear is undisturbed good fortune, and it may be doubted whether father Adam would not have died of ennui in paradise.
To-day, however, a due proportion of shadows was provided for me. In consequence of the great resort to the races, I found at every stage only miserable overdriven horses, sometimes none at all, so that, according to the English standard, I travelled wretchedly, and did not reach Newmarket till late at night.
There was no room in any of the inns; and I thought myself happy at last to get one small room in a private house, for which I paid five guineas a week. Fortunately I met an old acquaintance in the same house,—the son of a little Hungarian Magnate, who seems formed to please himself and others by his unpretending good-nature and joyous temper. I revere such natures, precisely because they have all that I want.
Next morning I rode about with him to reconnoitre the ground a little. One day here is precisely like another. At half-past nine in the morning you see some hundreds of race-horses, carefully clothed, taking their morning promenade on a rising ground. The bare, wide-spread heath is covered with them as with a herd of cattle; some are walking at a foot pace, others galloping, some slower, some quicker, but none at full speed. An inspector on a little poney generally accompanies the horses which belong to the same gentleman, or which are under the care of the same training-groom. The horses are all ridden without a saddle by little half-dressed lads, one of whom is every now and then thrown for the amusement of the spectators. After this exhibition, certainly a most interesting one to every amateur of horses, people breakfast, and in half an hour go to the sale, which takes place almost every day in the open street, under the auspices of the far-famed Mr. Tattersall. They then ride or drive to the races.
These begin pretty punctually at twelve o’clock. An interminable grassy plain covered with a thick short turf is the ground, where various distances, from a full German mile as maximum, to an eighth or tenth, as minimum, are marked for the course in a perfectly straight line. Near the end, this course is enclosed between ropes, on the outside of which rows of carriages three and four deep are drawn up, generally without horses, and covered within and without, from top to bottom, with spectators. At the goal itself is a wooden house on wheels, very like those the shepherds have in many parts of Germany, so that it can be moved about in case the course is lengthened or shortened: in this sits the judge. Just opposite to him is a post fixed in the ground, by means of which he determines which horse’s nose first appears exactly on a line with it; for an inch often decides the race: and it is a very skilful piece of policy and jockeyship of the riders here, to betray the real speed of their horses as little as possible, and to display only as much of it as is necessary to win the race. If they see they have no chance, they immediately give up; so that those who contend for victory to the last, are always very nearly together at the goal. The grotesque spectacle of a rider a mile in the rear, belabouring his horse with whip and spur, like a steam-engine, is exhibited only in France and Germany. If two horses reach the post exactly at the same moment, (which frequently happens,) they must run again. The judge is upon oath, and there is no appeal from his decision. The English jockeys (who are not, as foreigners think, little boys, but often dwarfish men of sixty,) form a perfectly distinct class, and are the best practical riders I know of. You remember that I kept race-horses myself, and had a Newmarket jockey for a time in my service, who won a considerable bet for me at Vienna. It amused me greatly to see this fellow ‘training’ himself. After dosing himself severely, he would go out in the greatest heat, dressed in three or four great-coats, ride a certain distance at a hard trot, till the sweat streamed off him in torrents, and he almost sank from exhaustion; ‘mais tel étoit son plaisir,’ and the more completely good-for-nothing he felt, the better he was pleased.[12]
But there are bounds to this: for the man, by excessive training, may reduce himself below the weight which the horse is bound to carry, and thus subject himself to the inconvenient necessity of carrying lead in the girths. At a certain distance from the goal, about a hundred paces to the side, stands another white post called the betting-post. Here the bettors assemble, after they have seen the horses saddled in the stables at the beginning of the course, thoroughly examined into all the circumstances of the impending race, or perhaps given a wink to some devoted jockey. The scene which ensues would to many appear the most strange that ever was exhibited. In noise, uproar, and clamour, it resembles a Jews’ synagogue, with a greater display of passion. The persons of the drama are the first peers of England, livery-servants, the lowest ‘sharpers’ and ‘blacklegs;’—in short, all who have money to bet here claim equal rights; nor is there any marked difference in their external appearance. Most of them have pocket-books in their hands, each calls aloud his bet, and when it is taken, each party immediately notes it in his book. Dukes, lords, grooms, and rogues, shout, scream, and halloo together, and bet together, with a volubility and in a technical language out of which a foreigner is puzzled to make anything; till suddenly the cry is heard, “The horses have started!” In a minute the crowd disperses; but the bettors soon meet again at the ropes which enclose the course. You see a multitude of telescopes, opera-glasses and eye-glasses, levelled from the carriages and by the horsemen, in the direction whence the jockeys are coming. With the speed of the wind they are seen approaching; and for a few moments a deep and anxious silence pervades the motley crowd; while a manager on horseback keeps the course clear, and applies his whip without ceremony to the shoulders of any intruder. The calm endures but a moment;—then once more arises the wildest uproar; shouts and lamentations, curses and cheers re-echo on every side, from Lords and Ladies, far and wide. “Ten to four upon the Admiral!” “A hundred to one upon Madame Vestris!” “Small Beer against the field!” &c. are heard from the almost frantic bettors: and scarcely do you hear a “Done!” uttered here and there, when the noble animals are before you—past you—in the twinkling of an eye; the next moment at the goal, and luck, or skill, or knavery have decided the victory. The great losers look blank for a moment; the winners triumph aloud; many make ‘bonne mine à mauvais jeu,’ and dart to the spot, where the horses are unsaddled and the jockeys weighed, to see if some irregularity may not yet give them a chance. In a quarter of an hour the same scene begins anew with other horses, and is repeated six or seven times. “Voilà les courses de Newmarket!”