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]