CHAPTER IX. 



RACING LADIES, AND A FOUNDER OK THE JOCKEY CLUB 



" Each arching neck's impatient of the rein, 

 Fire in each eye, and swelling every vein . . . 

 . . . And memory now in praise is fond to trace 

 Friends of the Turf and patrons of the race." 



IT was on the I4th June, 1727, that Sir Robert Walpole, who had been rewarded 

 for his hard work with the Garter in the year before, galloped to Richmond Lodge 

 and woke up George II. to tell him he was King of England. I suppose that few 

 monarchs ever cared less for the country they ruled, except perhaps this same 

 monarch's German father. And it may very well have been a blessing in disguise 

 that this was so, for England was allowed to go on in her own way. At any rate 

 George II.'s first effort to legislate for the English Turf cannot be called a very 

 brilliant success. He made a much more serious mistake before that, however, 

 in trying to do without Sir Robert Walpole. But Queen Caroline of Anspach knew 

 the real value of that red-faced, top-booted, fox-hunting old sportsman, and she had 

 him back again by the time that Sir Paul Methuen was moving the formal Address of 

 Condolence in the House of Commons. 



Beyond the precincts of Westminster I. fancy the English country must have 

 been a merrier land to live in at the accession of George II. than modern civilisation 

 has made of it. The villages, the country towns, the cities of the provinces, all had 

 a far more individual existence than is the case when a few enormous aggregations of 

 workers have absorbed the life and happiness which used to be spread over a far 

 larger area. This is not merely a matter of increased population ; it involves the 

 distribution of population too, and, even more closely, the life and habits of the 

 populace. A village wake or a country fair is considered in these enlightened days 

 of School Boards to be a fossilised survival. Cudgel-playing is as out of date as 



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