Debt, Imprisonment for -- Fiction; London (England) -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
The race was to be run at half-past eleven. We had chairs for such
as preferred being carried, but the younger ladies walked. We made a
gallant procession as we came upon the course, all the ladies wearing
Will's colours, which were red and blue. They had railed off a piece of
ground where the better sort could stand without being molested by the
crowd which always congregates when a great race is to be run. Indeed,
on this occasion, it seemed as if all the idle fellows for twenty miles
round had gathered together on the Downs with one consent, and with
them half the rustics of the villages, the tradesmen and workmen of
Epsom, Leatherhead, and Dorking, and the greater part of the company
at the Wells. There were gipsies to tell our fortunes or steal our
poultry--but I, for one, had had enough already of fortune-telling from
the tent of the pretended Wizard of the masquerade: there were Italians
leading a bear: there were a couple of rough men with a bull which was
presently to be baited: a canvas enclosure was run up on poles, within
which the Cornish giant would wrestle all comers at sixpence a throw:
another, where a prize-fight would be held, admittance one shilling,
with twopence each for the defeated man: a puppet play was shown for
a penny: for twopence you might see a rare piece of art, the subject
of which I know not: and in wax, the histories of Fair Rosamond and
Susanna. Other amusements there were. I, at first, took all in honour
of Will and his race, but presently learned that a fair had been held
at Leatherhead the day before, and that these people, hearing of what
was forward, came over to get what could be picked up. And, as one fool
makes many, the knowledge of their coming, with the race for an excuse,
brought out all the country people, mouth agape, as is their wont.
The horses presently rode out of the paddock--a place where they weigh,
dress, put on the saddles, and adjust the preliminaries. Will in his
cap pulled over his ears like a nightcap (because a jockey wears no
wig), and in silk jacket, striped with blue and red, riding as if he
was part of the animal he sat, looked in his true place. Ever after
I have thought of the gallant show he made, while with left hand
holding the whip, he bridled the beautiful creature, which but for his
control would have been bounding and galloping over the plain. But they
explained to us that racehorses know when racing is meant, and behave
accordingly, save that they cannot always be refrained from starting
before the time.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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