in the morning my master was up early, but he did not go to market, and it was quite nine o’clock when he harnessed me to the cart and drove round to the front door. there was a small knot of neighbours interested in our starting, and i found that a plumber and his wife were going with us. two chairs were put into the back of the cart for the use of the ladies, and the men sat in front, with the two eldest bunter children on the floor, making the party six in number. in addition to this was a bag of cut hay and corn for my consumption, and a large hamper of food and drink for the party.
i gathered from the conversation of the men that they were both fond of betting, and that mr. king had received overnight a ‘tip,’ that is, information concerning a certain horse, which would enable him to make a large sum of money that day.
‘i am told that melrose is sure to win,’ he whispered in a confidential tone to my master while they were waiting for 51the ladies. ‘wigen wrote to me to put every penny i have upon it.’
‘i go with you,’ returned benjamin bunter. ‘i always thought there was something meant with melrose. now then, here is the missis; give her a hand, will you.’
mr. king gallantly helped the ladies to their seats, then put the children in, and we started. a few idle boys gave us a cheer, the neighbours waved their hands, and then we went through the streets at a smart pace.
the load behind me was rather heavy, but i did not mind that, as there was, in addition to my curiosity being aroused, the prospect of a peep at the green fields and a few hours’ fresh air. in half an hour we had left the worst part of the bricks and mortar behind us, and were travelling among the neat suburban villas of prosperous tradesmen.
it was a bright fresh morning, and everything looked nice—villas, trees, flowers, everything, down to the butchers’ carts which we came upon now and then waiting at the garden gates of the houses. my party enjoyed everything; they were all in high spirits, and i have no doubt that mrs. bunter made the most of her bonnet, which was a far superior thing to the article worn by her friend mrs. king. in spite of this, however, the ladies were excellent friends.
about eight miles from town we pulled up at a roadside inn, and my master fetched out a pot of beer. i felt this to be the first hitch in a promising day; not that i personally object to beer, for i do not know even the taste of it, but i have seen the effects of it upon man, and they are anything but pleasant. never by any chance does it elevate or improve, and too often it ruins and degrades—and yet men will drink it. here is something which i am sure man himself fails to comprehend.
our halt was brief, and we went on through quiet lanes and broad, well-kept roads garnished with fragrant hedges and tall, graceful trees, sometimes passing and at other times being passed by other parties greater or smaller in number, and they all seemed to be in the highest possible spirits, shouting and laughing as if the world had nothing in it beyond going to the 52races, and they had left no sorrow or sin or shame in the great city behind them.
by-and-by we came upon a stupendous hill, and here a boy sitting upon a horse volunteered to help us up the hill for sixpence. benjamin bunter was in an excellent humour, and the offer was accepted; the horse was attached to the shafts of the cart, and we moved forward.
now i do not wish to speak ill of any of my race, but i must out with the truth at all times—that helping horse was a disgrace to his fellows. he was as cunning as a fox, and made a deal of show, pretending to strain his muscles and spluttering his feet about, but he did not pull a bit. he was as bad as the boy upon his back, who shouted and pretended to urge him on, while he really encouraged him to hold back. i ventured to remonstrate in a whisper to my helper, but he only answered with a short contemptuous laugh, which i have no doubt benjamin bunter interpreted as a cough, and i had to do the work of the hill in reality alone. at the top my master paid the boy the sixpence, and the precious pair went back in search of other victims.
after a brief rest we proceeded, and presently came upon the downs where the races were held, and my master guided me past a long line of white booths, erected for refreshment and various purposes. in some i have been told men gamble and fight, but i have never seen such things, and i only pretend to give the results of my actual experience. there was one large wooden erection which benjamin bunter pointed out to his wife as the grand stand; it was empty then, but i saw it later filled with ladies and gentlemen most magnificently dressed.
we were very early, and my master secured a good place near the ropes, after paying ten shillings for the privilege. he and mr. king then got down and went away, and mrs. bunter brought out a bottle full of rum. she had a sip, mrs. king had a sip, and the children were induced to wet their lips with it. all this seemed to me to be very shocking, but there were many cartloads of people around doing much the same thing, and nobody cried out against it.
53turning from mrs. bunter and her friend, i took a look at the scene around me. like the great city, it defies description. early as it was thousands had already assembled, and the air was full of shouts and laughter, and cries that some might have thought the outburst of joy; but i could detect a wail beneath it which told me that the joy was after all but a hollow thing. i was now old enough and had seen enough to read man at a glance, and as the thousands walked by i scanned their faces and read no real satisfaction there. they were hilarious it is true, but they lacked the contented expression which true happiness brings. but even the apparently happy were in the minority; the main part of this throng were eager, restless creatures, who walked quickly up and down, and talked in low whispers to their friends, or scanned little pocket-books with a forlorn look, as if they read their doom therein. ‘knave and gamester’ were written in the looks of many—alas! too many—of the young as well as old. every amusement presented by the itinerant took the gambling form—betting was the order of the day, from pence to pounds. some held up purses and talked of large sums to be sold for a shilling, and the thoughtless, untutored novice in race-course ways bought them, to find themselves deceived, and to hear the laughter of those who find fun in a miserable lie. wheels of fortune, spinning jennies, cards, dice, all were there, and vice, forgetting her shame, walked boldly in the sunlight.
opposite, the big wooden stand and others on either side were filling, and a babel of voices rose from the shifting mass. this, i was told afterwards, was the noise of betting men, who risked their money—some all their wealth, honour, good name—on the race to come. some of the noblest names in our land have been blackened in the betting ring. some of the richest among the people have left their all upon the race-course, and gone home to shame and ruin. and yet men call racing ‘pleasure;’ but who can reason with them on the subject when they call pigeon-slaughter by the name of ‘sport’?
it was a strange motley scene, interesting in many points, but painful in most, for i could see that there was more folly than fun in everything around me; and folly, every thinking 54creature, horse and man, knows, is but the herald of ruin and shame.
i was musing on the scene when my thoughts were interrupted by a carriage which drew up beside me; it was open, and contained two young fellows barely arrived at the recognised age of manhood. both were well dressed and in the highest possible spirits. i was immediately interested in them; but my attention was withdrawn by the horse in the brougham, who was in front of me—we stood in fact face to face.
there was a form a little more developed than i had hitherto known it, but quite familiar, from the tip of the well-shaped nose to the end of the ample tail. no need for that amused expression of face to guide me to a recognition; i knew him at once—it was my old friend rip, and involuntarily i uttered a loud neigh of joyful surprise.
‘hush! pray do,’ remonstrated rip. ‘don’t be so vulgar. you really astonish me with your want of breeding.’
‘i was overcome with joy,’ i apologised. ‘oh, rip! how often have i longed for such an hour as this!’
‘dear old blossom,’ said rip affectionately, ‘it is just like you to think of your old friends. no one, looking at your quiet ways, would imagine that you had half the emotion in you; but your sort of emotion is like still water—it runs deep.’
‘but where have you been—and what sort of masters have you had?’ i asked.
‘i have had only one master since i knew you,’ replied rip. ‘squire tracey bought me of mr. bayne, and i am with squire tracey still. i have brought his two eldest sons here to-day.’
‘from upton?’ i exclaimed.
‘stupid old blossom,’ said rip, with a good-natured smile in his eyes. ‘no, upton is a deal too far away; we came from town this morning. we always spend the fashionable months in the great metropolis—west-end of course. i have never cast eyes upon the east side of temple bar.’
‘and they treat you well, rip?’
‘nobly—from the squire to the groom,’ replied rip. ‘as for the groom, he is so kind to me that i positively love the fellow. he carries a whip as part of the furniture of a brougham, but i really cannot tell you if there is a lash upon it or not.’
‘i congratulate you upon your good fortune,’ i said, repressing a sigh. ‘my lot has not been so pleasant as i could wish, but i won’t complain.’
‘there never was such a horse as you to endure,’ returned rip; ‘and yet it’s not from want of spirit; you have a tremendous deal of work in you, and you always did your duty nobly.’
‘it is only right to do so, rip,’ i said, feeling rather foolish over this unmerited praise; and then at his request i gave him a brief outline of my life, and just as i concluded, benjamin bunter and his friend the plumber returned.
‘melrose is first favourite,’ he said to his wife. ‘i have put the money in, and we are safe to win. the men who ought to know say he can’t lose;’ and the man’s face beamed as if the race was already over and he a winner.
‘poor fool,’ said rip contemptuously; ‘one of the numberless thousands who make the betting knaves of the turf rich. he is a sporting greengrocer—earns his money with toil, gets a tip or hint from a trainer or jockey, who perchance knows no more than he, and risks not only his own money, but that which is due to others in the way of business. i have seen many like him, blossom, and i know full well the expression in his face—he is elated because he is hopeful; but if his hopes in this case are foiled, he is a ruined man.’
‘i hope not,’ i said.
‘it is a fact,’ replied rip. ‘see how he licks his lips and nervously presses his hands together; now he takes a sip from the bottle, as if that could help him. poor fellow! there are thousands like him to-day upon this course, and in an hour more than two-thirds of them will realize their folly, and return home dejected, ruined, miserable—unless they drink, which but wards off the pain for the time, and brings it back tenfold on the morrow. but hush! here come the horses—the noblest and most graceful of our race.’
then there filed past upon the course, which the police had 58previously cleared, a line of the most beautiful horses i had ever seen, each with a rider in a coloured jacket and cap upon his back. the glossy coats of the horses shone like rippling water in the sunlight, and their light fawn-like limbs trod the turf as if they supported creatures of air. their appearance was greeted with a shout. the ladies uttered little ecstatic cries of admiration; but the men were busy looking out for some particular horse on which their fortunes that day depended.
‘there—there,’ i heard benjamin bunter cry, ‘that’s melrose; isn’t he a beauty? there is not another horse in the field like him. the red jacket wins!’
melrose’s rider wore a red jacket, and many a tongue shouted out to him a word of encouragement as he went by; but other horses and riders had their supporters, who were as sanguine as benjamin bunter as to their success.
the horses passed on, and left the belt of turf called ‘the course’ perfectly clear. half an hour’s restlessness ensued—the police moved up and down, urging the crowd to keep quiet and not break in upon the open space. every face was turned to the starting point, and every eye was full of eager hope. then came a cry, ‘they’re off!’ and ere i had fully realized the meaning of these words they came flashing by—a line of panting horses, with frantic riders remorselessly using both whip and spur. the colours of the men were mingled, and i failed to single out the red jacket of melrose as the body swept past me, and the next moment the air was full of shouts and cries, and the race was over.
then came a brief lull, and i saw some numbers hoisted on a board opposite. benjamin bunter, with a borrowed field glass, scanned the figures for a moment, and then fell back with a groan.
‘i thought so,’ said rip quietly to me; ‘your master is ruined. melrose is not one of the first three. i saw him bringing up the tail of the race, looking as if every bit of life had been beaten out of him.’
i made no reply, for my thoughts were laden with sorrow: on the whole my master had been kind to me, and his misfortune 59was mine. under any circumstances i must have grieved for a ruined man, but the ruin in this case was brought near home to me, and my heart was very heavy indeed.
i was made sad too by what i saw and heard around me. thousands of tongues were busy with the race, and disappointment was the general tone. it was horrible to hear the cursing heaped upon the horses. some cursed the winner, some cursed the losers; but no one in my hearing spoke one kind word for the horses who had shown such matchless powers—not a word of their beauty, or the ease and grace of their movements, or of the spirit they had shown in the efforts made.
after the first excitement of the race was over, hampers were unpacked in all directions, and both men and women began to eat and drink—the winners to celebrate their success, the losers to drown their grief, and the ruined to stave off thought until the morrow. wandering minstrels began their songs—women and girls in tawdry finery danced upon the turf to the music of cracked instruments—sunburnt gipsies with babies in their arms stole from carriage to carriage and told fortunes as truthful as the ‘tip’ my unhappy master had received; women laughed, men shouted, children cried; the cornet, the drum, the flute, the tambourine—one and all lent their sounds to the general tumult, and all was riot and confusion.
my eyes ached, my ears tingled, and lifting my head above this distracting scene, i fixed my gaze upon the clear blue heaven above. oh! how calm and peaceful—how glorious—how beautiful! and far away against a patch of white cloud i saw a speck, and knew by its fluttering movement that it was a skylark singing; but his song was drowned in the popping of champagne corks, the beating of drums, and the thousand and one other noises of the worshippers of folly. the votaries of the race thought as little of the grateful hymn of the bird as they did of the great giver to whom it was instinctively addressed. ‘oh! man, man,’ i cried, ‘look up and read your lesson there!’
i became so absorbed in my reflections that i had forgotten rip, until he gave utterance to a very indignant snort, and 60asked me if i had taken up with sulky ways. this i laughingly denied, and rip, after pretending for a moment to be very angry with me, chatted on about old associations and his present life, until his two young masters, who had been away for awhile, came back again. they seemed to be indignant and vexed about something, and the younger, as he put his foot upon the step, said aloud—
‘john told me that madcap was sure to win—and he was not one of the first three.’
the same song my master sung, but the name was different. melrose was sure to win, madcap was sure to win, and neither of them were near it. surely there must be roguery somewhere.
rip’s young masters were so annoyed that they would stay no longer, and i had barely time to say a few affectionate words to him ere they gave their servant orders to drive away. rip, in obedience to a jerk of the reins, turned round, nodding to me carelessly as he did so; but i saw a tear in his eye, and knew that a kind and tender heart lay under his flippant air. i am very fond of rip, and i am sure he was fond of me.
my party by this time were in a very bad way; all had drunk a deal more than was good for them, and i heard mr. benjamin bunter challenge mr. king to fight. the ladies, however, interposed, and nothing came of it. after this they had more drink, and my master sang a song in a loud, cracked voice, and cut a lot of antics which made him appear very foolish. a few thoughtless people laughed and encouraged him, but i saw more than one man look at him with bitter contempt.
i do not care to say any more about the race-course, the very memory of it sickens me now—it was such a seething mass of folly, drunkenness, and vice; but i know that i was very glad when we turned our backs upon it, and started for home.
the road was crowded with vehicles full of men and women, most of whom were dressed up with paper feathers, false noses, as if the great object of the day’s holiday was to make themselves as ridiculous as possible. a great many in the garb of gentlemen were very much the worse for drink, and amused themselves with pelting the other wayfarers with bags of flour, cheap pincushions, and similar acts of folly—unworthy of men.
a mile from the course we got into a quiet road; but there were still many carts and carriages before and behind, and every public-house we came to was full. i can see now the number of horses waiting patiently outside for the masters who were drinking themselves into a mad or maudlin state within; i can hear their oaths and repetitions of their curses upon the horses which failed to win; i can smell the smoke of the cheap filthy tobacco which curled in great clouds from the open doors and windows;—that hateful scene and hateful day has haunted me ever since, and will haunt me till i die.
we stopped at many of these public-houses on our way home, and it was late—almost dark—when we arrived at clapham, and then it began to rain. the clouds had been lowering for some time—but to men who are the worse for drink clouds and sunshine are the same. the people who had assembled to see the holiday-makers return were dispersed by it, and when we reached home even the streets were clear.
the rain was now falling fast; the whole of the party were soaked with rain; and when benjamin bunter pulled up at his door, his friends the kings got out without a word. they just nodded a good-night, and as they passed on i heard mr. king mutter to his wife that he hated going out in a common cart—there was no comfort in it, and it was not fit for a respectable tradesman.
poor mrs. bunter! her bonnet was quite spoiled, and she was crying in a weak maudlin manner as her husband helped her out. he was in a sulky humour, and when the children came out to greet him he asked them what they meant by sitting up so late, and bade them go to bed at once. mrs. bunter supported this rebuff, and went even farther, threatening personal chastisement if she saw them again that night.
my master put me into the stable, tossed a feed into the manger, raked out my bed in a careless manner, and left me for the night. i was very wet and uncomfortable; but a horse 64has no right to complain, so i munched my food quietly, and made the best of a bad case.
mr. bunter’s back parlour window was near the stable: the night was warm, and the window was open, which enabled me to hear a deal of what was said. when my master went in his wife was crying still. he asked her what was the matter in a coarse brutal tone, such as i had never heard him use before. she replied in a querulous angry voice, bewailing the loss of her bonnet and the bad behaviour of mrs. king, who had said something or other of a very personal nature on the way home.
then there was a silence for awhile, interrupted only by the half-stifled sobs of mrs. bunter. this silence was suddenly broken by my master, who had apparently been brooding. i heard him rise up from his seat, and kicking over the chair, tell his wife to hold her crying about her bonnet and save her tears for something worse, for he had that day betted with and lost money which was not his own, and he was a bankrupt and a ruined man.
