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Memoirs of the British Turf BY THE HON. GEORGE LAMBTON. Eleventh Article. Good as he was as a three-year-old, he Improved like good wine with age. Some time before Ascot of the following year Lord Marcus wrote to Marsh, saying, "If you will tell me that Persimmon will win the cup. Queen Victoria will come to see him run." This was asking a good deal of any trainer, so Marsh set Persimmon a hard task in his trial. He hoped he might just win it. To his surprise and delight the horse came home alone, and he was able to answer that the Queen might come with safety. Persimmon won the cup, beating AVink-fields Pride in a canter by eight lengths. Robinson, who trained the latter, was confident that he would win. He told Marsh the evening before the race that his was a great horse, that he was going to jump off and come as hard as he could all the way, and that no horse could live with him. Dick replied: "The faster your horse makes the pace, the further will mine win." When Persimmon was stripped -for the Ascot Cup he stands out in my memory as the most perfectly trained horse I ever saVi and on that day it would have given my two heroes, St. Simon and Ormonde, as much as they could do to beat him. For thirty-two years did Dick Marsh train and Lord Marcus manage for King Edward, and, great as their successes were, they had their periods of dire disaster and misfortune, but in these bad times no word of complaint ever came from their master, who took success and failure in the same line spirit There was no place where the King was happier than at Newmarket, riding out in the morning to see his horses work, going to tea at Egerton House after the races to see them in the stable ; he for the moment was free from the cares of state, for, greatly as he appreciated the lighter side of life, his capacity lor hard work was even greater, and no man in any station of life fulfilled his duties with greater ability or more conscientiously than did King Edward. Both Lord Marcus Bcresford and Marsh had been fine cross-country riders in their younger days. Marsh rode many itmes in the Grand National, was third on two occasions, and nearly always went round. Moreover, he trained seven or eight horses for the race, and not one of these horses fell. There is much discussion at this momont about the fences at Liverpool, many people saying that they should be made easier. In my opinion this is all nonsense ; what you want to do is to make the other steeplechase courses less easy. DECADENCE OF MODERN CHASING. Nowadays in a steeplechase a horse that jumps over the fences has no chance ; he must go through them. This gets both horses and jockeys into bad ways. It has ! come to this when you discuss the chances of a National horse you generally say, "He will do this or that if he is lucky enough to go round." In my day we thought it would be damned bad luck if a horse did fall. Marsh said to me the other day that if he had a horse which brushed through the fences he would put a rail through the top of the fence when schooling him, and after one experience of that the horse took no more liberties. When Voluptuary won the National as a five-year-old he had never run in a steeplechase. Ted Wilson, who rode and trained him, told me a fortnight before the race that he was sure to win. I was sceptical, owing to the horses lack of experience. "Dont be afraid of that," said Wilson, "I have jumped him over every fence in Warwickshire," I believe the horse went round without a mistake. Marsh rode and won a hurdle race for Lord Marcus on Blue Bonnet in 1874. That is something to look back upon and be proud of forty-eight years, and they are still working together. The sayings and doings of Lord Marcus would fill a book, and a devilish amusing book it would be. He is the wittiest man in the world, the best of friends and a pretty good enemy ; and Dick Marsh is one of the most entertaining of men. TURF HISTORY ON EGERTON WALLS. I do not often give advice, but if anyone who is fond of racing has the chance of spending a day at Egerton House do not Jet him miss it. There is turf history writ-Ten on the walls of the house, and he will also meet Mrs. Marsh, that most charming daughter of another great trainer, the late Sam Darling. Writing of turf history on walls makes me think of Palace House, the Newmarket home of the Rothschilds, and the wonderful collection of pictures there. I have heard some people say they do not like pictures of horses. Perhaps from an artistic point of view they may be unsatisfactory, but to those who are fond of racing, what pleasant memories they bring back. There is no more honored name on the turf than that of Rothschild, and I should say it stands alone in this respect, that their colors .have been carried on the race course without a break for a longer period than those of any other family. I have known many good and kind men in my life, but one of the be3t friends I ever had was the late Leopold de Rothschild. Many people do things when it comes their way, but Leo was forever looking for an opportunity to help those who might be in difficulties. The following words always reminded me of him : "I pass through this world but once ; if therefore there be any kindness I can show, or any good thing I can do, let me do it now; let me not defer it or neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again." WORDS ON THE MANTELPIECE. These words were the favorite quotation of a gallant gentleman, Major Charles Beatty, who was so impressed with them that he had them written over the mantelpiece in his house at Newmarket, saying he liked to be reminded of ttiem every day. I believe that in his long career on the turf Mr. Rothschild had but two trainers, first Alfred Hayhoe and then John Watson, and his son Anthony carries on in the same way, has already won the Grand Prix with a good horse in Galloper Light, and is cei-tain to revive the glories and successes of the blue and yellow cap. He was a busy man, but no one ever loved the game of racing better. He man ! aged his horses himself and arranged the trials, and, carrying on an old custom of the family, made his jockeys wears colors, boots and breeches in all trials. He was fond of betting, but his mtis-faction over a good win was greatly spoiled if his friends were not "on" too. He was proud of his horses, but sometimes inclined to overrate them, but we most of us can plead guilty to that fault, . if fault it is. Excitable and emotional, with a quick temper, I have known him flare up aid attack people sometimes without reason, but so generous and open-hearted was he in making amends that one liked him even better after one of these breezes. He had many great horses. He and his family have won all the big races. Unquestionably St. Frusquin was the b",st horse he ever owned, although St. Amant won the Two Thousand and the Derby. St. Amants Derby was run in a most terrinc thunderstorm, deluges of rain, and thunder and lightning. He was a brilliant horse, with tremendous speed, queer-tempered, and easily upset. Kempton Cannon, who rode him in all his races, told me the following story : When he got up on the horse in the paddock at Epsom and was being led round the ring, St. Amant kept on putting his ears ba.-k, and turning his head round as if he weie trying to catch his jockey by the leg. When Kempton asked the boy what on earth we a the matter with the. horse, he replied: "Thats all right ; Ive been pinching him all the morning; hell be fairly on his ties now." Whether it was the effect of the pinching, or the thunder and lightning, I do not know, but St. Amant jumped off in front, and nothing ever, was near ,him. I never saw a happier or a wetter man than Sir. Rothschild when he led in his horse. While Mr. Rothschild"" was always a staunch supporter of any jockey who rode for him he perhaps liked George Fordham best, and among the many stories he tuld of him here is one I particularly remember. Mr. Rothschild was going- to have a big bet on a two-year-old, on its first papear-ance on a race course, and told -Fordham that he must be sure ad win. "Oh, dear ! Oh, dear!" said Fordham, "you ought never to bet on a two-year-old first time out." "Why not?" asked Mr. Leo, "I have tried it well." "Well, you know," answered Fordham, "when I get down to the post on these two-year-olds and I feel their little hearts beating under my legs, I think,, why not let them have an easy race, win if they can. but dont frighten them first time out " I once told Mr. Rothschild that I thought lie tried his two-year-olds too high, saying that if I had a promising horse I believed in giving him an easy trial to give him confidence ; he answered, "Yes, that is what 1 like too ; but if I do it my horse gets a false reputation. When he runs, half cue city of London is on him ; he may be beat to the devil and then where am I?" Fordham, great jockey and good fellow as he was, did not always quite like to own up when he made a mistake. Cne October meeting at Newmarket I was with Lord Alington when Mr. Rothschild told us he had a certainty in a selling race, and having had a bad day I went on it. CONVERSATION AT THE MILE POST. Later on, when riding down to see the race finish at the Ditch mile post with Mr. Rothschild, Lord Alington came cantering up and Mr. Rothschild asked him what weight he had on. He answered: "One hundred and twenty-five dollars." "Why you ought to have had more . than that," . said Mr. Leo, and turning round put. the same question to me. Twenty-five hundred dollars was my stake and I told him .so. "Good God," said Lord Alington, "I wish I had your pluck." "All right,- I said, "you can have my pluck if you will give me your money." Nimble, the supposed certainty, was beaten a head. Fordham was riding one of his "kidding" races and for once was caught. Mr. Rothschild declared his intention of buying the winner. Fordham begged him not to, but having seen nothing apparently wrong in the race he did so. It turned out to be worthless. Archer happened to be on his hack close to me while the race was being run. When I saw Fordhams whip go up 200 yards from home I thought he was beaten, but Archer, who had studied his methods so closely, assured me that he was only "kidding." He lost the race by a head, and I turned to Archer, saying; "Well, you made a mistake then." "No," he replied, "I made no mistake, but the old man did and threw his race away." It took an expert like Archer to know whether Fordham was all out or had something up his sleeve. The year 1881 was remarkable for tha debut of six beautiful and good fillies, Kermesse, Dutch Oven, Geheimniss, Nellie, St. Marguerite and Shotover. Dutch Oven, the property of Lord Falmouth, was a great, slashing brown filly, by Dutch Skater and the flying Cantiniere. She won nine good races as a two-year-old, ending up with the Dewhurst Plate. She had a glorious bang-tail, which she carried very high. When she galloped it floated behind her like the flag of a ship. Nellie, a chestnut filly by Hermit Hippia, belonging to Mr. Leopold de Rothschild, was one of the most beautiful mares I ever saw. She and Dutch Oven were continually up against each other. Always ridden by the same jockeys, Archer and Fordham, it was wonderful how true they ran. - In the Prince of Wales Stakes at York, Nellie, receiving seven pounds from Dutch Oven, won by three-quarters of a length; and then, at even, weights Dutch Oven was second and Nellie third to Ker-messo in the Champagne Stakes. In the Rous Memorial, again at even weights, Dutsh Oven beat Nellie a neck, and the Clear-well the following week she gave her three pounds and won by a head. I think this consistency is a great tribute to horses, jockeys and trainers. Kermesse, a brown filly by Cremorne Hazeldean, was probably the best of the band. A long, low filly, full or quality, so dark a brown as to be almost black, she was the property of Lord Rosebery ana trained by Joe Cannon. She won five good races, including the Middle Park Plate. She, was only beaten once, in the Richmond Stakes at Goodwood, when she and St. Marguerite dead-heated for second place a head behind Dutch Oven, Kermesse giving away four pounds. To Be Continued.
