THE WORSHIP OF THE HORSE.
THE statement by the Duke of Westminster that his horse Orme,' which, from its almost unbroken vic- tories as a two-year-old, was looked upon as the certain winner of the Derby, had nearly died from the effects of a virulent poison administered to it on Thursday week, and perhaps a second time on the following day, was the " sensation " of the end of last week. There still seems room to doubt whether the sudden illness of the Derby favourite may not possibly have been due to natural causes; but the Duke, who is unwell at Eaton Hall, and clearly very angry, sees no reason to alter the opinion which he has formed from the evidence laid before him. Meantime, the incident has aroused the utmost curiosity and excitement, not only in the racing world, but among the general public who neither bet, nor, as a rule, go to races, but share the great and growing admiration for physical perfection and physical beauty which the idea of a supremely good race-horse suggests, without involving any self-disparagement in his admirers. No one thinks the less of himself when a horse gallops a mile in something over a minute, though he might envy the man who can jump a bar six feet high.
Supposing the Duke of Westminster to be correct in his inference, the attempt to poison 'Orme ' is the more remarkable because it was made, not in the strange stable occupied for a few days previous to the race for the Two Thousand Guineas, in which he was this week to have run at Newmarket, but in the sanctuary of his owner's choice, on the Downs at Kingsclere ; and the resentment which the outrage on a courageous and beautiful animal has excited, is perhaps enhanced by repul- sion at the sordid cruelty which could carry the poisoner into the heart of the Hampshire hills, to bring death and distrust into the qiiiet precincts of the training-stable. Nowhere, perhaps, are the conditions of perfect physical health for man or animals so nearly attained as in these equine temples of Esculapius on the Kingsclere or Lam- bourne Downs, where the observance of the simple and primitive canons of health are supplemented by natural advantages of locality unequalled in the country. The strong, free air, and vast stretches of primeval turf, the ever-dry surface of the chalk, and the undulating and sloping contours of the ground, ensure the maximum of benefit from the great health-bestowers, air and exercise ; and wholesome diet, regular hours, and scrupulous cleanliness effect the rest. The soundest and "brightest" oats, old and fragrant hay, and water warmed with sunbeams, are the daily and delightful portion of these Houynhrims of the nineteenth century; and the desire of the eye for physical perfection and beauty could scarcely be better satisfied than by the sight of the thoroughbreds in training on a bright May morning on the Downs. Their unsurpassed beauty of form, colour, and movement, is perhaps enhanced by the amusing contrast be- tween them and their human attendants The tiny lads—mainly vivacious little Cockneys, or Birmingham boys—who ride them, grow up into undersized men, portly sometimes, when they have attained the full dignity of a successful trainer, but always small, and generally as brisk and good-humoured as the lads. Isolated among the rolling Downs, the little men and tall horses have the world to themselves, and if it were not for the occasional presence of some burly rustic leading a waggon of prime hay or oats for consumption in the stables, the visitor might imagine himself alone in a country of horse- taming and horse-worshipping dwarfs. One peculiarity of the economy of the training-stable is that, except when at exercise, the horses are brought up on the "solitary system." Each box is isolated from the rest, and though there is a connecting door, it is only opened at the hours when grooming and cleaning is going on; thus the inmates cannot "converse," as every horse likes to do, with their neighbours, and so derive that relief from ennui which the mere presence of another of its kind seems to give to these sympathetic though undemonstra- tive creatures. Routine is the essence of the system. The work set them may be varied, but the horses are like an " eight " in training; so much so, indeed, that each horse has its particular place in the string when at exercise. Sunday is the only day that differs from the others ; for then the horses do not go out. One result is that they become exceedingly " bored " with training and its consequent isolation. This probably accounts for the extraordinary fondness which some of them develop for other animals which are allowed to share their box. Lanercost,' who was poisoned at Ascot in 1842, had a dog for his inseparable companion, and there is a story that this dog was once stolen as a precaution preliminary to " nobbling " the horse; but that the dog escaped, and found its way back to the horse's box.
Roughly speaking, work in the stables begins at daybreak, earlier in winter, later in summer, when the horses are groomed and fed; and the boys get their breakfast. The "first string" are then ridden out to exercise, and made to walk, gallop, or canter for two and a half or three hours. They are then thoroughly groomed, and fed again ; after which they are left perfectly quiet and alone, while the second string go out. These horses are generally neither so numerous nor so important as the first set, and at 5 o'clock all are for the third time groomed and fed. Thus a horse which, like Orme,' has been out with the "first string" would have been left alone for three or four hours since its last grooming. It was after this "5 o'clock stables" on Thursday week that the trainer noticed that the Derby favourite was ailing. The distinguished sufferer was attended on Saturday by an eminent dentist—it will be news to most people that two-year-old horses constantly have teeth removed or stopped when in training—and by a no less eminent veterinary surgeon. The dentist, Professor Lceffier, extracted two of Orme's ' teeth, and was, as he still remains, of the opinion that the mischief was due to the troubles of teething. But the surgeon pronounced that the horse was "suffering from an irritant poison," and hastened to Eaton 'hail to inform the Duke of Westminster. "He would not have travelled three hundred and sixty miles to tell me the horse had a sore throat, which I knew already," wrote the Duke subsequently, and acting on the opinion then formed, he has offered a reward of 21,000 for the discovery of the culprit.
One of the strongest arguments against the theory of poisoning is the strange fascination which 'the personality of a successful race-horse exercises on the minds of the lads in a training-stable. They talk of the horse incessantly, bet on
him, and when he wins, almost worship him. They would groom him all day for nothing, if allowed to do so, and pet and spoil him in the process. His prestige grows with each successive victory, and a horse which, like Orme,' has as a two-year-old won races worth over 210,000, and has only once been beaten, becomes almost a present deity. Some years ago,. when walking in the lonely beech-copses on the back of the White Horse Hill, the writer was surprised to hear round after round of cheering rolling up the valley from the Seven Barrows Farm. It was the " lads " in the training-stable celebrating the victory of Bendigo,' who had just won the- " Eclipse Stakes," worth I:10,000, a hundred miles away at Sandown. There seem no limits set by time to this devotion to particular horses. Not long ago, at Leybourne, in York- shire, two old men, who had not met for thirty years, refused to leave the village inn at closing-time, because they could not agree in their recollections of a certain horse which had been trained there when they were boys ; and the renewed intimacy threatened to end for ever over the discrepancy. Nothing that has been written of the Yorkshire love of horses could exceed the truth. The days of the great race- meetings at Doncaster, for instance, are a general holiday, which would be taken if not granted. On one occasion, when a large number of miners had been thrown out of work by the flooding of a pit, during which time they had made industrious appeals, embellished by poetry written for the occasion, to the sympathy and charity of the neighbourhood, the manager was. at last able to give notice that work would be resumed on a certain day. That evening he was waited upon by an in- dignant "deputation," drawing his attention to the fact that the date mentioned fell in the St. Leger week, and requesting- its immediate postponement. The enthusiasm is not confined to one sex. Wives and matrons form a large proportion of the crowd at Doncaster, and show a determination to secure a good place which baffles even the policemen on the course, who are often at their wits' end to atop a rush across the course, headed by some determined dame with a baby in her- arms.
The difference between the sturdy colliers who tramp into. Doncaster to witness the St. Leger, and the blackguard crowd who throng the trains on their way to suburban race-meetings, solely with a view to money-making, is sufficiently marked. But the betting mania has made a conquest of the working man, and it is doubtful whether John Burns's strong re- marks on Saturday, on the growing evil of betting among the audience he addressed, were as popular as his views on the eight-hours day. Excessive gambling, like excessive drinking, seems to be working downwards as it is abandoned by the wealthier classes, and spreading as it descends. Judged only by the mischief caused by the incessant and unnatural excite- ment and restlessness which it brings, it must unsettle for steady labour the very class who are most dependent for a. livelihood on the regular discharge of routine duties. The nightly cry of " Winner 1 winner ! " by the newsboys in the streets, shows how constant and increasing are the appeals offered by daily race-meetings to the gambling spirit, races which the bettors never see, won by horses of which they know nothing but the names, and which exist solely for the amuse- ment of the owners, and the profit of the gamblers. But that is the last and lowest cult of the "golden calf," connected only remotely and by accident with the national worship of the horse.
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