TURF EPISODES.

Press, Volume LVI, Issue 10882, 27 June 1899, Page 6

TURF EPISODES.

Max Pemberton reviews the work "Kings of the Turf, 7, for the Daily Mail, and lie" writes:— - The Geeatest Plttnger. It is open to the moralist to urge that an Adniiral Rous is rare in the history of the turf, Dut'this is not the place to debate the argument. Let us gratify the moralist in some part—for this only is possible—with a picture of one of the really great gamesters who could move the gallant old seaman to the language of the quarter-deck. It is the picture of Colonel Mellish, perhaps one of the greatest phingers in the history of any sport, 'lhis man was known to have won a hundred thousand pounds at one sitting before a card-table. He lost it the following evening, ajid, says "Thormanby," the climax of his gambling madness was reached when ho stated £40,000 pounds upon a single throw of the dice and lost. Such a man, assuredly, should have died in the workhouse. Unhappily for" the better application of the moral, he did nothing of the sort. We find him, at tibs last, .the exemplary master of Hodsaek Priory, a small estate, the sole relic of his once splendid property. And here is ''Thorinanby's' picture of him: — "The personal appearance" of Henry Mellish was singularly striking. His figure was erect and stalwart—he stood sft llin, and looked the picture of an athlete, with power'as well as grace in every line of his strong, well-built, active, vigorous frame. His dress was unique. He wore a neat white hat, .white trousers, and white silk stockings; his handsome face, too, was white, and, in fact, there was nothing dark about him save his curly black hair and long drooping moustache, the latter being then the distinguishing mark of a cavalry officer." If ever, as Matthew Arnold has it, Life ran gaily as the sparkling' Thames, it was surely among the galaxy of lighthearted ladies and dashing dandies that shone round the handsome person of "The First Gentleman in Europe" in: the rosy days of the Regency. of those dandies has left us in his diary a graphic picture of Brighton on a race morning, when the Prince .was in his meridian, and the ground was covered with "tandems, beautiful women, and light hussars." "In those days," writes Tom Raikes, "the Prince made Brighton and Lewes races the gayest scenes of the year in England. The pavilion was full of guests, and the Steyne was crowded with all the rank and fashion from London. ■ The "legs" and bettors, who had arrived in shoals, used all to assemble at the Steyne at an early hour to commence ''operations on the first day, and the buzz was tremendous, tjlJ Lord Foley and Mellish, the two great confederates of that day, would approach the ring, and, then a sudden silence ensued to await the opening of their books. They would come on, perhaps, smiling, but mysteriously, without making any demonstration. **At last Mr Jerry Cloves (a -well-known profesional betting man) would say 'Come, Mr Mellish, will you light the candle, and set us a-going?' Then if the mr.jster of Buckle (Frank Buckle, the famous jockey, rode for Colonel Mellish) would say Til take 3to 1 about Sir Solomon, , the whole pack opened and the air resounded with every shade of odds and betting. About half *an hour before the departure for the hill, the Prince himself would make his appearance in the crowd. "I thtinkl see him now in his green jacket, a white hat, and light nankeen pantaloons and shoes, distinguished by his manner and handsome person. He was generally •accompanied by the late Duke of Bedford, Lord Jersey, Charles Wyndham, Shelley (Sir John),-Beau Brummel, M. Day. and oh! —extraordinary anomaly— the little old Jew Travis, who, like the dwarf of old, followed in the train of Royalty. , ' An Historic Bet. More efficacious,, I imagine, from the point of view of tiie f preaener, is the pic"ture of the Marquis of Hastings, and of the now historical tragedy of which bis name reminds us. Many know the outlines of that astonishing..story. A mere lad in the hands of unscrupulous bloodsuckers; an in- , s:jae and altogether reckless love of hazard, a woman, an elopement, a revenge—what maker of Surrey melodrama can ask more for his stock-in-trade? that young man came here," said arf American speculator of a youth who was apprenticed to nim, "he had the money and I had the brains. Now I have ths money and he lias the brains." A very few years sufficed in Lord Hastings's ease to bring about a state of things so helpful to the last act of this drama.. Hermit won the Derby. Hermit was owned by the rival. The Marquis of Hastings lost £100,00Q upon the race: Yet, enormous as his losses were, he met them; though oasy by sacrificing his fine Scottish estate of Loudoun, which parted with for £300,000. On that fatal settling day has agents were the first to present themselves .at.Tattersairs, and every claim was paad in full to the amount of £103,000. He was the more particular on this point because he was determined that Mr Henry Chaplin should have no reason to crow over him. Three years before, on the 16th July, 186 Vhe had stolen from Mr Chaplin his affianced bride, Lady Florence Pa.get. The romantic story was in everybody's mouth, and all the world knew how Lady Florence drove up with Mr Ohaplin and her chaperon to Swan and Edgar's, how she entered the shop, slipped through to the back entrance, where the Marquis was awaiting her in a hansom, and left poor Mr Chaplin waiting there in bewilderment at the nonarppearance of his fiancee. But Hermit had, indeed, most amply avenged that wrong. When the Marquis appeared at Ascot a few months later, he was cheered to the echo by the ring for the gallant and sportsmanlike manner in which he had paid his immense losses. But were those cheers enough to compensate even so vain a man. as he for the tremendous sacrifice he had made to pay the men who cheered him? I can hardly think that " Harry Hastings" was fool enough to imagine that they were. But the Marquis was by no means at the end of his misfortunes in that fatal year. There was another, and perhaps a bitterer blow in store far him at tie Newmarket Second October meeting. He had set Ms heart and his houes on winning the Middle Park Plato with* bis two-year-old filly Elizabeth, and wiien he saw her come in a bad fifth and realised that at one fell swoop he had lost even his iron nerve for once gave way. He turned pale and staggered under the -crushing blow. The expression on his face was one of such appalling anguish that Maria, Marchioness of Aylesbury, most kind-hearted of women, by whose carriage he was standing, fearing a'painfnl scene, hastily thrasb her bettingbook into his hand, and, pretending that she was deeply agitated by her own losses, whispered:— * Tell mc how I stand F

In an instaot the Marquis pulled himself together, ran las eye over the book, and in a perfectly calm voice replied: — "You" have lost £23/'