Chapter XIII.
Other Great Horses.
There have been numerous other great horses in our country, some of them standing on a high pedestal, but none of them on quite such a lofty one as that supporting Carbine or The Barb. Some may worship the memory of one, some that of another. It is a case of “laudabunt alii” (each man to his own choice). But we should like to recall a few of those celebrities, some of them dead and gone, a few still in the land of the living. Chester and First King were good, possibly even great horses. As two-year-olds they never met, but both were champions, First King winning all his three engagements, and Chester four out of five. The latter was beaten a head in his initiatory effort by Sir Hercules Robinson’s Viscount—an evident fluke. As three-year-olds there was a battle royal between the two. The Derby, Chester won easily by half a length. In the Mares’ Produce, a mile and a quarter Mr. White’s colt repeated the dose. But in the Championship, over three miles, First King won by four lengths, and he beat the New South Welshman, but only by a short head, in the Leger. Chester had no engagement in the Australian Cup, which First King won, and in the Town Plate, two miles, Chester had no difficulty in putting the King down by two lengths. It is possible that Mr. Wilson’s colt was a little stale after the Australian Cup. They never crossed swords again, and although Chester won seven out of his eleven engagements as a four-year-old, I question if he was ever so good again as he was at three. Horses like Warlock, Melita and Cap-a-pie beat him at weight-for-age, which, had he been at his best, could never have occurred. First King did not appear as a four-year-old, but at five years he was only beaten once, and that was by the Derby winner, the beautiful, shapely, grey, Snowden colt, Suwarrow, in the Canterbury Plate, two miles and a quarter. But in his winning efforts he had no really great horses to conquer, although one or two of his opponents were good, Richmond—past his zenith—Wellington and Swiveller being the best of them. On paper, the honours are pretty evenly divided between Chester and First King, and I daresay old-time racing men could argue with some gusto after dinner in favour of their particular fancy, and might finally have to rise from the table unconvinced, or, if convinced against their will—well, holding the same opinion still.
Grand Flaneur was the next public idol. He was never beaten, and how good he was it is difficult to say. This great colt only ran once in his first season, when he won the Normanby Stakes at the Flemington New Year Day Meeting. Palmyra and Cinnamon were in the field, the former being favourite at even money. At three years Grand Flaneur commenced with the A.J.C. Derby, and then went through an unbroken sequence of victories in the Mares’ Produce, the Victoria Derby, the Melbourne Cup, the V.R.C. Mares’ Produce, the Champion, the Leger and the Town Plate.
Grand Flaneur may have been lucky in racing during a rather lean year, but over and over again he cantered home from the Angler colt Progress, who, when the big fellow was not present, invariably smothered the opposition in the most convincing manner possible, and there is no doubt whatsoever that Mr. W. A. Long’s colt was really and truly “great.” He ran no more after his three-year-old career terminated.
Malua was better than simply a “good horse.” One that could win, in his four-year-old season, a Newmarket Handicap, six furlongs, the Oakleigh Plate, five and a half furlongs, and the Adelaide Cup, a mile and five, was something of a genius. And as a five-year-old he graduated in the weight-for-age class, taking the Spring Stakes, a mile and a half, the Melbourne Stakes, a mile and a quarter, and the Melbourne Cup, two miles, carrying nine stone nine, his rival, Commotion, being half a length off second, with his nine twelve up. As a six-year-old, with nine nine, the Australian Cup, two and a quarter miles, fell to Malua, and then, as an eight-year-old stallion, he won the Grand National Hurdle Race easily, carrying his owner, Mr. J. O. Inglis, who was a very fine horseman. It must be confessed that Malua was wonderfully favourably handicapped for a winner of his great class, as his weight was only eleven stone seven. Twelve seven would have been a more reasonable impost. Malua may not have been quite up to the pitch of a “great” horse, but he was terribly near it, and his brilliant and determined run over the last two furlongs may have been electrifying enough to have defeated even the best. And in estimating his merit, we must take into account his unusual versatility. Of course, Abercorn was a “great” horse. His was that great light which caused the greater light of Carbine to burn with such dazzling brilliancy. The great, slapping, lengthy chestnut won for Mr. White twenty races, all of them against the highest class of horse, out of a total of thirty-four starts. It was a case of Greek meeting Greek when Abercorn, Australian Peer, Carbine and Melos threw down their gauntlets.
Australian Peer scored many points, but undoubtedly Abercorn won the rubber. A great racehorse, he was promising at the stud, and gave us a stayer in Cobbity, another lovely mover and good winner in Coil, and a Derby horse in Cocos. All the three, by the way, were out of the one mare, Copra. Abercorn was bought to go to Ireland, and there he did very little good. Had he remained behind in Australia, and continued to produce horses of like merit with the three mentioned, there might have been a different tale to tell. As it was, with him the blood of Whisker seemed to peter out.
Wallace was in the “great” class, and was certainly a very great sire. His two-year-old career was not so promising in public as it was in private, for, although backed well upon many occasions, he only secured a single bracket out of eight attempts. As a three-year-old he commenced with a second in the Spring Stakes to Hova, and then went from strength to strength, taking the Guineas, the Derby, and the C. B. Fisher Plate. In the Leger something happened which fairly made me groan with anguish, as I sat there watching a good horse being beaten by a comparative commoner. Mr. H. Oxenham had two representatives, Cabin Boy and Waterfall, in the race. The latter was a pretty good horse, and Gough, on Wallace, galloped along beside him, the only competitor whom he thought was likely to offer any dangerous opposition whatever. Delaney, Cabin Boy’s rider, meanwhile, in the guise of making the running for his companion, shot away, secured a tremendous lead, and Wallace could never quite get up. Next day Idolator, a six-year-old, with seven three on his back, just got home from Wallace, in the Australian Cup, carrying eight ten. It seemed to me that Wallace winced in the last few strides as though he had been struck with the whip on a painful spot, but I never heard until lately whether this was the case or not. Mr. Phillip Russell, the owner of Idolater, says “No.” The verdict was half a head. Next day Mr. James Wilson, Junr.’s beautiful Trenton mare, Quiver, ran a dead heat with Wallace in the three-mile championship, and they completed the distance in the then record time of 5 min. 23¼ sec. It has only once been beaten since, by three-quarters of a second, when Radnor won, and it will never be equalled again, as the race has since been abolished. In the autumn, at Randwick, Wallace won the Leger, the Sydney Cup, with eight twelve, the Cumberland Stakes, but, probably stale, lost the three-mile A.J.C. Plate to a couple of moderates like The Harvester and Fort. This practically closed the son of Carbine’s racing career, as he only once more faced the barrier, in the following spring. At the stud he has earned imperishable renown. There is, unfortunately, just a shadow of doubt as to whether or not he is going to be a proven sire of sires. So far we have seen no son of his who appears to be destined to carry on the line in tail male. But with Wallace Isinglass, Patrobas, Wolowa and Trafalgar, there is certainly a distinct hope. As the sire of great brood mares there is not the slightest anxiety as to his future fame, for that is established already.
Newhaven followed fast on Wallace’s footsteps, for he won the V.R.C. Derby the very year after the Carbine colt. As a two-year-old he took, amongst other races, the Maribyrnong Plate and the Ascot Vale Stakes, carrying the full penalty. His three-year-old performances quite entitled him to take his place among the “greats,” and although, perhaps, a horse of moods, or more likely an animal easily affected by what might have been a trifle to some of his peers built in a coarser mould, he was really awfully good. One can never forget how, after having won the Derby in smashing style, he came out in the Cup, and with the substantial burden of seven thirteen on his three-year-old back, seven pounds over weight-for-age, he took the lead before passing the judge’s box the first time round, never relinquished his advantage, and finally strode home half a dozen lengths to the good. Some of us, whilst taking a walk round the course on the evening before the great race, were talking “Cup” all the time. Mr. W. E. Dakin, a keen judge of racing and of a horse, pulled up at the five furlong post from home, and with a wave of his stick, oracularly decided that “here Newhaven will begin to come back to them.” I had the privilege of sitting beside Mr. Dakin during the race, and, just at the point which he had indicated, the chestnut colt seemed to take a fresh lease of life and shot out with an even more substantial lead than before. I could not refrain from nudging my friend’s knee and saying: “How about Newhaven coming back to them now?”
After a very successful three-year-old career, his victories including the Championship, the Loch Plate, the A.J.C. St. Leger and the A.J.C. Plate, Mr.—afterwards Sir William—Cooper took him to England. He was a very free, loose galloper, with a curious amount of knee action, a style which caused one to be rather doubtful of his staying powers until he had unmistakably refuted all suspicions by his deeds. Newhaven was by Newminster from Oceana, by St. Albans (son of Blair Athol), her dam, Idalia, by Tim Whiffler (imp.) from Musidora, by The Premier—Dinah, by Gratis from an unknown mare. Hers is one of those pedigrees which one would give worlds to fathom to the very depths.
Maltster, great as his success afterwards was at the stud, can scarcely be catalogued amongst the great. He was good, and had he had the opportunity, might possibly have been promoted to this, the seventh heaven, but, as it was, his working days were over by the autumn of his three-year-old career, and he had the fortune to come in a rather lean year, when no giants as of old were stalking upon the earth.