Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Volume 26, September, 1880

At length, after long weeks of waiting, Perugia disappeared in a gray deluge: the rain came marching like an army across the plain toward us; its first scattered drops printed the dust, its sheets of water drenched the windows, its small torrents rushed down the steep streets. The mountains grew dim and almost disappeared: we were shut in with hope and a fresh delight. Then the deluge settled into a gentle rain, under which the grapes swelled out their globes, the corn rustled with a fuller growth and the hearts of men grew content. The king and his ministers also budded out into new beauty, and flourished in popular esteem like the green bay tree, and the republic was quenched—till the next drought.

The Author of "Signor Monaldini's Niece."

HORSE-RACING IN FRANCE,

TWO PAPERS.—I

The passion for horse-racing, which for more than two centuries has made the sport a national one in England, cannot be said to exist in France, and the introduction of this "pastime of princes" into the latter country has been of comparatively recent date. Mention, it is true, has been found of races on the plain of Les Sablons as early as 1776, and in the next year a sweepstakes of forty horses, followed by one of as many asses, was run at Fontainebleau in the presence of the court. But it is not until 1783 that one meets with the semblance of an organization, and this as a mere caprice of certain grandees, who affected an English style in everything, and who thought to introduce the customs of the English turf along with the chapeau Anglais and the riding-coat. It was notably the comte d'Artois (afterward Charles X.), the duc de Chartres (Philippe Égalité), the marquis de Conflans and the prince de Guéménée who fancied themselves obliged, in their character of Anglomaniacs, to patronize the race-course; but the public of that time, to whom this imitation of English manners was not only an absurdity, but almost a treason against the state, gave but a cold reception to the attempted innovation. Racing, too, from its very nature, found itself in direct conflict with all the traditions of the ancient school of equitation, and it encountered from the beginning the severe censure and opposition of horsemen accustomed to the measured paces of the manége, whose highest art consisted in consuming a whole hour in achieving at a gallop the length of the terrace of St. Germain. The professors of this equestrian minuet, as solemn and formal in the saddle as was the dancer Dupré in the ballets of the period, predicted the speedy decay of the old system of horsemanship and the extinction of the native breed of horses if France should allow her soil to be invaded by foreign thoroughbreds with their English jockeys and trainers. The first French sportsmen—to use the word in its limited sense—thus found themselves not only unsupported by public opinion, but alone in the midst of an actively-hostile community, and no one can say how the unequal contest might have ended had not the graver events of the Revolution intervened to put an end, for a time at least, not only to the luxurious pleasures, but to all the hopes and ambitions, of the noble class of idlers.

The wars with England that followed retarded for a quarter of a century the introduction of racing into France. The first ministerial ordinance in which the words pur sang occur is that of the 3d of March, 1833, signed by Louis Philippe and countersigned by Adolphe Thiers, establishing a register of the thoroughbreds existing in France—in other words, a national stud-book, by which name it is universally known. The following year witnessed the foundation of the celebrated Society for the Encouragement of the Improvement of Breeds of French Horses, more easily recognized under the familiar title of the "Jockey Club." The first report of this society exposed the deplorable condition of all the races of horses in the country, exhausted as they had been by the frightful draughts made upon them in the imperial wars, and concluded by urging the necessity of the creation of a pure native stock, of which the best individuals, to be selected by trial of their qualities of speed and endurance upon the track, should be devoted to reproduction. This was the doctrine which had been practically applied in England, and which had there produced in less than a century the most important and valuable results. France had but to follow the example of her neighbor, and, borrowing from the English stock of thoroughbreds, to establish a regular system of races as the means of developing and improving the breed of horses upon her own soil.

This reasoning seemed logical enough, but the administration of the Haras, or breeding-stables—which is in France a branch of the civil service—opposed this innovation, and contended that the only pure type of horse was the primitive Arab, and that every departure from this resulted in the production of an animal more or less degenerate and debased. The reply of the Jockey Club was, that the English thoroughbred is, in fact, nothing else than a pure Arab, modified only by the influences of climate and treatment, and that it would be much wiser and easier to profit by a result already obtained than to undertake to retrace, with all its difficulties and delays, the same road that England had taken a century to travel.

The experience gained since 1833 has shown that the conclusions of the Jockey Club were right, but the evidence of facts and of the results obtained has not yet brought the discussion to a close. The administration of the Haras still keeps up its opposition to the raising of thoroughbreds, and will no doubt continue to do so for some time to come, so tenacious is the hold of routine—or, as the Englishman might say, of red tape—upon the official mind in France, whether the question be one of finance, of war or of the breeding of horses.

But it is not only against the ill-will of the administration that the Jockey Club has had to struggle during all these years: it has had also to contend with the still more disheartening indifference of the public in the matter of racing. There is no disputing the fact that the genuine lover of the horse, the homme de cheval—or, if I may be forgiven a bit of slang for the sake of its expressiveness, the horsey man, whether he be coachman or groom, jockey or trainer—is not in France a genuine product of the soil, as he seems to be in England. Look at the difference between the cabman of London and his brother of Paris, if there be enough affinity between them to justify this term of relationship. The one drives his horse, the other seems to be driven by his. In London the driver of an omnibus has the air of a gentleman managing a four-in-hand: in Paris the imbecile who holds the reins looks like a workman who has been hired by the day to do a job that he doesn't understand. So pronounced is this antipathy—for it is more than indifference—of the genuine man of the people toward all things pertaining to the horse that, notwithstanding all the encouragements that for nearly half a century have been lavishly offered for the purpose of developing a public taste in this direction, not a single jockey or trainer who can properly be called a Frenchman has thus far made his appearance. All the men and boys employed in the racing-stables are of English origin, though many, perhaps most, of them have been born in France; but the purity of their English blood, so important in their profession, is as jealously preserved by consanguineous marriages as is that of the noble animals in their charge. It was an absolute necessity for the early turfmen of France to import the Anglo-Saxon man with the Anglo-Arabian horse if they would bring to a creditable conclusion the programme of 1833. And during all the long period that has since elapsed what courage and patience, what determined will, to say nothing of the prodigious expenditure of money, have been shown by the founders of the race-course in France and by their successors! Their perseverance has had its reward, indeed, in the brilliancy of the results obtained, but there is still due to them an ampler tribute of recognition than they have yet received, and it will be a grateful duty to dwell for a while upon the history of the Jockey Club.

Of its fourteen original members but two survive, the duc de Nemours and M. Ernest Leroy. The other twelve were His Royal Highness the duc d'Orléans, M. Rieussec, who was killed by the infernal machine of Fieschi, the comte de Cambis, equerry to the duc d'Orléans, Count Demidoff, Fasquel, the chevalier de Machado, the prince de la Moskowa, M. de Normandie, Lord Henry Seymour, Achille Delamarre, Charles Lafitte and Caccia. To these fourteen gentlemen were soon added others of the highest rank or of the first position in the aristocratic world of Paris. People began to talk with bated breath of the Jockey Club and of its doings, and strange stories were whispered of the habits of some of its distinguished members. The eccentricities of Count Demidoff and of Major Frazer, the obstreperous fooleries of Lord Henry Seymour, the studied extravagances of Comte d'Alton-Shee, created in the public mind the impression that the club was nothing less than a sort of infernal pit, peopled by wicked dandies like Balzac's De Marsay, Maxime de Trailles, Rastignac, etc. Even the box of the club at the opera was dubbed with the uncanny nickname loge infernale, and the talk of the town ran upon the frightful sums lost and won every night at the tables of the exclusive cercle, while the nocturnal passer-by pointed with a shudder to the windows of the first floor at the corner of the Rue de Grammont and the Boulevard, glimmering until morning dawn with a light altogether satanic. The truth must be confessed that jeunesse dorée of the period affected a style somewhat "loud." There was exaggeration in everything—in literature—for it was the epoch of the great romantic impulse—in art, in politics: what wonder, then, that the distractions of high life should over-pass the boundaries of good taste, and even of propriety? The Jockey Club in the time of Louis Philippe did but recall the good old days of Brookes's and of White's, of the two Foxes, of George Selwyn and of Sheridan. But how changed is all this! There is not to-day in Paris, perhaps in the world, a more sedate, reputable and in every sense temperate club than the "Jockey." It concerns itself only with racing, the legitimate object of its foundation, and nothing else is discussed in its salons, if we except one room, which under the Empire was baptized "The Camp of Châlons," for the reason that it had come to be reserved for the use of the old soldiers, who met there to talk over incidents of army life. Baccarat, that scourge of Parisian clubs, is forbidden, and lovers of play are obliged to content themselves with a harmless rubber of whist. As one black ball in six is sufficient to exclude a candidate—or, to use the official euphemism, to cause his "postponement"—it is not difficult for the coterie that controls the club to keep it clear of all noisy, or even of merely too conspicuous, individuality. Lord Henry Seymour would be "pilled" to-day by a probably unanimous vote. A candidate may enjoy all the advantages of wealth and position, he may have the entrée to all the salons, and may even be a member of clubs as exclusive as the Union and the Pommes-de-Terre, and yet he may find himself unable to gain admission to the Jockey. Any excess of notoriety, any marked personal eccentricity, would surely place him under the ban. Scions of ancient families, who have had the wisdom to spend in the country and with their parents the three or four years succeeding their college life, would have a much better chance of admission than a leader of fashion such as I have described. The illustrious General de Charette; M. Soubeyran, at that time governor of the Crédit foncier of France; the young Henry Say, brother-in-law of the prince A. de Broglie, rich and accomplished, and the owner, moreover, of a fine racing-stable; together with many other gentlemen whose private lives were above suspicion,—have been blackballed for the simple reason that they were too widely known. As to foreigners, let them avoid the mortification of certain defeat by abstaining from offering themselves, unless indeed they should happen to be the possessors of a great historic name or should occupy in their own country a position out of the reach of ordinary mortals. This careful exclusion of all originality and diversity has, by degrees, communicated to the club a complexion somewhat negative and colorless, but at the same time, it must be admitted, of the most perfect distinction. The most influential members, although generally very wealthy, live in Paris with but few of the external signs of luxury, and devote their incomes to home comforts and to the improvement of their estates. If one should happen to meet on the Champs Élysées a mail-coach or a daumont [an open carriage, the French name of which has been adopted by the English, like landau, etc. It is drawn by two horses driven abreast, and each mounted by a postilion. The nearest English equivalent is a "victoria."] that makes the promenaders turn and look back, or if there be an avant-scène at the Variétés or the Palais Royal that serves as a point of attraction for all the lorgnettes of the theatre, one may be quite sure that the owners of these brilliant turnouts and the occupants of this envied box are not members of the club—"the Club," par excellence, for thus is it spoken of in Paris. It is considered quite correct at the club to devote one's self to the raising of cattle and sheep, as the comtes de Bouvillé, de Béhague, de Hauteserre and others have done with such success, and one may even follow the example of the comte de Falloux, the eloquent Academician, in emblazoning with one's arms a pen of fat pigs at a competitive show, without in the least derogating from one's dignity. One may also sell the wine from one's vineyards and the iron from one's furnaces—for the iron industry is in France looked upon as a sort of heritage of the nobility—but to get money by any other means than those I have indicated would be considered in the worst possible taste. On the other hand, it is permitted to any member of the club to lose as much money as he pleases without loss of the respect of his fellows, and the surest way to arrive at this result is to undertake the breeding and running of horses.

As to the external appearance and bearing of the perfect clubman, it is very much that of Disraeli's hero, "who could hardly be called a dandy or a beau. There was nothing in his dress, though some mysterious arrangement in his costume—some rare simplicity, some curious happiness—always made him distinguished: there was nothing, however, in his dress, which could account for the influence that he exercised over the manners of his contemporaries;" and it is probably a fact that a member of the club is never noticed by passers on the street on account of anything in his dress or appearance. In short, the club seems to have adopted for its motto Sancta simplicitas, and the descendants of the old nobility of France, excluded as they practically are to-day from all public employment save that of the army, seem determined to live amongst themselves, in tranquillity and retirement, in such a way as to attract the least possible notice from the press or from the crowd. Their portraits never find their way into the illustrated papers, and no penny-a-liner ventures to make them the subject of a biographical sketch: indeed, any one rash enough to seek to tread upon this forbidden ground would find himself met at the threshold by a dignified but very decided refusal of all information and material necessary to his undertaking.

As an illustration of the care taken by the ruling spirits of the club to preserve the attitude which they have assumed toward the public, it may be worth mentioning that Isabelle, who for a long time enjoyed the distinction of serving the club as its accredited flower-girl, and who in that capacity used to hold herself in readiness every evening in her velvet tub at the foot of the staircase of the splendid apartments at the corner of the Boulevard and the Rue Scribe—the present location of the club—was dismissed for no other reason than that she had become too extensively known to the gay world of Paris. Excluded from the sacred paddock on the race-course, she is to-day compelled to content herself on great occasions with selling her flowers on the public turf from a pretty basket-wagon drawn by a pair of coquettish black ponies, or "toy" ponies in the language of the day.

Notwithstanding the magnificence of the present quarters of the club to which I have referred, one cannot help regretting that, unlike the Agricultural Society and the Club of the Champs Élysés, it is obliged to confine itself to one story of the building—the first floor, according to continental enumeration—though the rental of this floor alone amounts to some three hundred thousand francs a year.

The committee on races, composed of fifteen members (founders) and fifteen associate members—the latter elected every year by the founders—represents the club in all that concerns its finances and property, votes the budget, the programme of all races and the conditions of the prizes, and not only legislates in making the laws that govern the course, but acts also as judge in deciding questions that may arise under the code that it has established. And as a legislative body it has its hands almost as full as that of the state, for the budget of the society grows from year to year as rapidly as the nation's, and there are now forty-nine turfs for which it is responsible or to which it has extended its protection. The presidency of the committee, after having been held for many years by the lamented Vicomte Daru, passed on his death last year to M. Auguste Lupin, the oldest proprietor of race-horses in France. To M. Lupin, moreover, belongs the honor of being the first breeder in France who has beaten the English in their own country by gaining the Goodwood Cup in 1855 with Jouvence—success that was renewed by his horse Dollar in 1864. M. Lupin, who had six times won the Jockey Club Purse (the French Derby) and twice the Grand Prix de Paris, occupies very much the same position in France that Lord Falmouth holds in England, and, like him, he never bets. His colors, black jacket and red cap, are exceedingly popular, and received even more than their wonted share of applause in the year 1875, the most brilliant season in the history of his stables, when he carried off all the best prizes with St. Cyr, Salvator and Almanza. His stud, which has numbered amongst its stallions the Baron, Dollar and the Flying Dutchman, is at Vaucresson, near Versailles. His training-stables are at La Croix, St. Ouen.

Of the remaining members of the committee on races, the best known are the prince de la Moskowa, the comte A. de Noailles, Henry Delamarre, Comte Frédéric de Lagrange, Comte A. des Cars, J. Mackenzie-Grieves, Comte H. de Turtot, the duc de Fitz-James, Baron Shickler, the prince A. d'Aremberg, Prince Joachim Murat, Comte Roederer, the marquis de Lauriston, Baron Gustave de Rothschild, E. Fould and the comtes de St. Sauveur, de Kergorlay and de Juigné. Most of these gentlemen run their horses, or have done so, and the list will be found to comprise, with two or three exceptions, the principal turfmen of France. The comte de Juigné and the prince d'Aremberg, both very rich, and much liked in Paris, have formed a partnership in turf matters, and the colors they have adopted, yellow and red stripes for the jacket, with black cap, are always warmly welcomed. In 1873, with Montargis, they won the Cambridgeshire Stakes, which were last year carried off by the American horse Parole, and in 1877 they renewed the exploit with Jongleur. The count, on this latter occasion, had taken no pains to conceal the merits of his horse, but, on the contrary, had spoken openly of what he believed to be his chances, and had even advised the betting public to risk their money upon him. As the English were giving forty to one against him, the consequence of M. de Juigné's friendly counsel was that the morning after the race saw a perfect shower of gold descending upon Paris, the English guineas falling even into the white caps held out with eager hands by the scullions of the cafés that line the Boulevard. One well-known restaurateur, Catelain, of the Restaurant Helder on the Boulevard des Italiens, pocketed a million of francs, and testified his satisfaction, if not his gratitude, by forthwith baptizing a new dish with the name of the winning horse. The comte de Juigné himself cleared three millions, and many members of the club were made the richer by sums ranging from one hundred to one hundred and fifty thousand francs. The marquis de Castellane, an habitual gambler, who happened to have put only a couple of hundred louis on the horse, could not hide his chagrin that his venture had returned him but a hundred and sixty thousand francs. Jongleur won the French Derby (one hundred and three thousand francs) in 1877, besides thirteen other important races. He was unfortunately killed while galloping in his paddock in September, 1878.

The Scotch jacket and white cap of the duc de Fitz-James, owner of the fine La Sorie stud, and the same colors, worn by the jockeys of the duc de Fézenzac, have won but few of the prizes of the turf, and another nobleman, the comte de Berteux (green jacket, red cap) is noted for the incredible persistency of his bad luck. M. Édouard Fould, whose mount is known by the jackets hooped with yellow and black and caps of the latter color, is the proprietor of the well-known D'Ibos stud at the foot of the Pyrenees, one of the largest and best-ordered establishments of the kind in France; and it is to him and to his uncle, the late Achille Fould, that the South owes in a great degree the breeding and development of the thoroughbred horse. M. Delâtre (green jacket and cap) raises every year, at La Celle St. Cloud, some twenty yearlings, of which he keeps but three or four, selling the rest at Tattersall's, Rue Beaujon, to the highest bidder. They generally bring about six thousand francs a head, on an average.

The feeling against Germany after the war led to a proposition to expel from the club all members belonging to that country; and it was only the liking and sympathy felt for one of them, Baron Schickler, a very wealthy lover of the turf and for a long time resident in France, which caused a rejection of the motion. Baron Schickler, however, has nominally retired from the turf since 1870, and his horses are now run under the pseudonyme of Davis. His colors are white for the jacket, with red sleeves and cherry cap. Another member, Mr. A. de Montgomery, the excellent Norman breeder and the fortunate owner of La Toucques and of Fervaques, has also given up racing under his own name, and devotes himself exclusively to the oversight of the Rothschild stables. The good-fortune which the mere possession of this distinguished name would seem sufficient to ensure has not followed the colors of Baron Gustave de Rothschild in the racing field, where his blue jackets and yellow caps have not been the first to reach the winning-post in the contests for the most important prizes. He buys, nevertheless, the best mares and the finest stallions, and he has to-day, in his excellent stud at Meautry, the illustrious Boïard, who had won, before he came into the baron's possession, the Ascot Cup of 1873 and the Grand Prix de Paris. The Rothschild training-stables are at Chantilly. Boïard, as well as Vermont, another of the grandest horses ever foaled in France, and a winner also of the Grand Prix de Paris, was formerly in possession of M. Henry Delamarre, who in the days of the Empire enjoyed a short period of most remarkable success, having won the French Derby no less than three times within four years. His choice of colors was a maroon jacket with red sleeves and black cap. He had some lesser triumphs last year, at the autumn meeting in the Bois de Boulogne, where his mare Reine Claude won the Prix du Moulin by two lengths, his horse Vicomte, who up to that time had been running so badly, taking the Prix d'Automne, while the second prize of the same name was carried off by Clélié, thus gaining for the Delamarre stables three races out of the five contested on that day. All M. Delamarre's horses come from the Bois-Roussel stud, belonging to Comte Roederer.