Chapter XVI: The Gist of it all (1)

And now we draw to the close this thesis on the racehorse in Australia. We have been, after all, but wandering upon the outskirts of a very vast subject, and were we proposing to indite a work for the use of experts—breeders, owners, trainers, even, let us add, punters—our thesis would swell into a large volume, our large volume into an encyclopaedia, and our encyclopaedia into a library. And the gist of it all? Is the entire business, with all its branches and ramifications, with all the employment offered by it to thousands of people, with all the land now in use for breeding, with all those beautiful parks reserved for racing purposes, in and near the great cities, is it all designed simply to furnish an Australian holiday? I do assure you that there is involved something a very great deal deeper than that. It is the horse, the whole future and welfare of the horse, that is the great stake for which we are playing, most of us unconsciously. The day of the noble animal is not over, and its future spells infinitely more than the mere fact of whether he can run a mile in a minute and 36 seconds, or whether he can cover three miles in 5.23. During the Boer War, such a short time since, but which seems to our children, perhaps, to have been waged centuries ago, we expended an enormous amount of horse life in a country where soldiers had perforce to be carried on horseback, and where all the supplies for an army were dragged upon wheels, and when motor power had not yet come into its own. And in the last great death grapple, with all the petrol which was exploded, with all the motor traction used, with all the amount of transport, and of scouting by air, we still required a larger horse supply than ever before. We cannot see so clearly into the future as did the poet Tennyson, when he wrote Locksley Hall. That wonderful seer, you may remember, wrote his poem in the early ’forties of the last century, and he predicted, as plainly as words could tell, the advent of the flying machine, for use both in commerce and in war, and “all the wonders that would be.” It is not given to many to possess the true prophetic vision, but it is a simple task to foretell that war has not yet ceased upon the earth, and that we have not even begun to make reaping hooks of our spears, or spades and ploughs and harrows of our guns. It is the improvement of our horse, for general utility purposes, and for war, that is really the motive which ought to promote this racing of ours, but which poor Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, in a fatuous moment, has lately dubbed “the curse of the country.”

If the supply of horseflesh is to be maintained, if we are not prepared to let the breed die out altogether, then horse racing is the only method whereby the standard can be preserved at a proper and efficient level. Shows, agricultural and otherwise, are powerless in their endeavour to accomplish this end. Magnificent looking creatures bred for the ring, only too surely and quickly prove themselves to be abject failures when tested on the course or in the field. Vitality, stamina, courage, soundness, are the qualities which we desire to perpetuate in our breeds. The show ring does not test a single one of these. The winning post must be our only guide.

Is it doing its duty in the matter? This might be a matter for endless debate, but it is safe to say that it is not doing that duty nearly so well as it might. For in our play we are so apt to forget that, after all, it is not only sport that we are following, but that perhaps the safety of our Australian nation lies in the qualities of endurance and of speed in those beautiful creatures which we are looking upon as our playthings of to-day. One’s mind invariably flies, whilst thinking over these matters, to a future and a possible “War of Defence.” Britain, let us imagine, is hampered with a Continental foe. America is on her back, and fighting for her life upon the seas. And we are lying here in the sunshine, a beautiful woman without means of defence, without oil for our motors, without ammunition for our guns, without horses for our men. With ammunition, and with half a million of splendid horses, and even more splendid men, we might do wonders, even without oil, until help could arrive. Without horses and ammunition we would be immediately destroyed. And we are not taking the trouble to breed chargers and transport horses for the purposes of war. Indian buyers, private dealers, your own eyesight, will tell you that we are not producing the quantity, nor the quality which we were so proud of fifty, forty, aye, even thirty years ago. We have become careless. Our young men do not desire the glorious companionship which their fathers enjoyed, that loving friendship between horse and man. They fizz through their stations now in a motor car, or possibly they even fly through the air to the back of the run, and are home for luncheon. Their sires and their grand-sires on these distant excursions camped out for nights, their saddle for a pillow, their horses, in hobbles, not far distant from their side. My young gentleman of to-day could do it all if he tried, but he does not care to ride, and hunting is a bore. But what will his son be? It is the old, old story. Read your Gibbon, study your Grote.

“All Empires tumble, Rome and Greece,
Their swords are rust, their altars cold.”

You know the old and sacred saying, “At sunset, when the sky is red, you know that the weather will be fine,” and also, “When the fig tree putteth forth her leaves, ye know that summer is nigh.” And Rome and Greece fell because they would not take the trouble to see that the sky was red, or that the fig tree was putting forth her leaves. And we are travelling on exactly the same road. Not many people care to read about the “Buried Cities of Crete.” The story carries a tremendous lesson. The ancient Cretans, whose women wore high-heeled shoes, and hobble skirts, and other abominations of civilisation, were so strong in their sea power that they neglected the means of defence on land. Ruins, buried deep beneath the soil, tell us the sad story to-day. A foreign power, despised perhaps, but now grown strong, sprang at their throats so suddenly that it took the Islanders completely by surprise. The blackened walls, the charred rafters, thirty feet below ground, preach their sermon to those who care to read. Neither does one ever forget what took place at the great conference at Vienna between the Powers when Napoleon had at length been chained and was languishing in his little island kingdom and prison of Elba. There had been much discussion, bitter wrangling, but matters were at length approaching a more or less satisfactory conclusion. Then, unheralded, there burst into that august assembly a messenger, “bloody with spurring, fiery with hot haste.” “Napoleon has escaped and has landed in France.” A moment’s silence, and the ambassadors with one accord fell a-laughing. After all their grave debates, with the waste of so many millions of words, the whole edifice of their deliberations was thrown to the ground by one sweep of the hand. So may it be to-morrow. A League of Nations may meet and deliberate. The representatives, perhaps, will disagree. Ere they can turn round, one Power, which is, may be, the best prepared, declares war. Necessity, when nations are in dire distress, choking for air and starving for their daily bread, knows no law. Will we never learn our lesson not to put our trust in Princes, no, nor in the children of men? Therefore, let us foster our horses by every means in our power, and place our dependence rather upon them. And let us remember that the race course, the hunting-field, and the polo grounds are the nurseries and gymnasiums of the breeds both of horse and man. The thoroughbred is the keystone of the arch, the cornerstone of the building.

And yet one knows so well that prophecy is all in vain, that our rulers only smile and imagine a vain thing, and that no seer has any honour in his own country, until the words are proven to be true, and then it is all too late. Bitter was the fate of Cassandra, that ancient prophetess of Troy, whom no man could believe, and bitter still the lot of anyone who tries once more to read the writing on the wall, and give it voice.

“Then like a raven on the wind of night
The wild Cassandra flitted far and near,
Still crying, ‘Gather, gather for the fight,
And brace the helmet on and grasp the spear,
For lo, the legions of the night are here!’
So shriek’d the dreadful prophetess divine;
But all men mock’d and were of merry cheer;
Safe as the Gods they deem’d them, o’er their wine.”

But, with the tremendous importance of the end in view, the improvement of the thoroughbred horse, is our sport sufficiently fulfilling that end? That is a question which is indeed a hard one to determine, and one great camp may give its voices to the “Ayes,” and one may roar in unison for “No.”

There is one thing, and perhaps only one thing, quite certain. Our horse has increased in size. The fifteen-hands-two of the great winners of a hundred years ago have swollen in their average dimensions somewhere in the neighbourhood of sixteen-two. This may not, however, indicate allround improvement. A good big one, we know, is better than a good little one on the course, but I question if the rule holds good, either in the battle or the hunting-field. Ormonde beat The Bard because he outstrode him down the Epsom hill, but The Bard might have carried his master, with his twelve stone ten, had he had the opportunity, more safely and more speedily to the end of a forty minutes run, than his great conqueror on the race course over the mile and a half of Epsom Downs.

And we have gained in speed. There can be little doubt of that. If the inexorable test of the “Winning Post” has not compelled us to breed from our best, and if, in the course of the flying centuries, the result has not been a march upwards, then Heaven help us and our methods. But do you think that stamina and soundness have improved along with our size and our speed? That, too, is hard to tell. And yet it is probable that it is so. Races now are real tests of the stayer. In the days of Fisherman, and Voltigeur, The Flying Dutchman, Plenipotentiary, Bay Middleton, and before their time, races were not run in a manner to prove stamina. More frequently there was much loitering on the way in the two, three, and four mile bouts between the steeds of our ancestors. To-day we run the two miles all the way from pillar to post, and Archer’s three minutes and fifty-two seconds for the Melbourne Cup has dwindled to the three twenty-four and a half claimed by Artilleryman. Twenty-seven seconds difference means at least two furlongs, and that takes catching. Well, admitting that we have marched forwards in the matter of both speed and stamina, surely there is much more unsoundness to-day than there was one hundred years ago, or even fifty years since. At the first blush one would say “Yes.” But on second thoughts one does not feel quite so sure. Herod was “a bleeder,” and bleeding has been not uncommon in his descendants. It is one hundred and sixty-four years ago since Herod was foaled. We rear regiments of racers now, where our forebears bred squadrons. And yet “bleeding” is not so very rife after all. But we hear more about it, with an active press focussing its microscope on every individual racer in the land. And roaring, you ask? Well, Pocahontas roared, and Prince Charlie made a fearful noise, and Belladrum was indistinguishable from a fog-horn, and Ormonde did more than whistle, but in Australia, at least, this is a defect, an actual unsoundness, which we do not so very often see—or hear. But we are breeding bad knees, bad feet, and round joints, and with the extra weight of the enlarged frames, ligaments and muscles cannot bear the strain. Yet this was always so. Bay Middleton had a mysterious foot and leg, Whalebone’s near fore-foot was contracted, and all were “pumiced”—whatever that might mean. He was “the most double-jointed horse I ever saw in my life,” was the verdict of that celebrity’s groom. Whitelock was “a naggish horse with a big, coarse head and plumb forelegs.” Flat, thin-soled feet were the “bane of lazy Lanercost,” Rataplan “always went proppy on his long fore pasterns,” and “Dundee’s suspensory ligament went so badly in the Derby that after that race his fetlock nearly touched the ground.” Partisan had a “clubby foot.” Touchstone had “very fleshy legs,” and his “near fore ankle was never very good.” And so on we could go, from the Adam of horses to our own most rapid, modern times, which these grandchildren of ours will shortly call “the old times.” But I cannot say if the “Sport” is improving; I fancy not. I was talking to Walter Hickenbotham the other day, the doyen of the profession of trainers, or at least one running in double harness in that capacity with old Harry Rayner, of Randwick. Walter was recalling the “old days” of his youth. Meetings were fewer then, and railways were a comparative rarity where his paths led him. Mr. C. M. Lloyd was his “boss.” Riding a mare and leading Swiveller, Walter would leave the station on one of those beautiful, bright, health-giving mornings of the late summer or early autumn, with just a touch of frost in the clear air. The boy, with the buggy and the gear, the feed, and all the other necessaries, had gone on before. From station to station, ’twixt sunrise and sundown, the little cavalcade would press steadily on. Mr. Lloyd, no doubt, would follow in a few days with his tandem or the four-in-hand. And so from meeting to meeting they would go. Round Wagga, Hay, Bathurst, Deniliquin, Gundagai, Goulburn, a great circuit, would they wander, taking with them the romance and glamour of the Turf in their train. You can imagine the stir and enthusiasm at the stations as they came. Nothing was too good for them, either for man or beast. Everyone welcomed them, and the old greybeards, in the evenings, beneath the big gum tree, while the boxes were being done out, and the horses meanwhile were held in the shade, would talk horse, and nothing but horse, by the yard. Some might even remember having seen Rous’ Emigrant or Manto, and another might have come from Yorkshire, and had known all about Sledmere and Sir Tatton Sykes. And the racing was more for the fun of the thing then, and the owners betted more like gentlemen between themselves. And ere the country circuit was completed, horse and man had travelled almost a thousand miles, and had won many a Cup, and much fine gold. And then, calling in at the station to drop their burdens, they would be off to the Metropolis to take down the numbers of the swells which trained there, ere settling down for the short, dark winter days at home. Good days those, jolly days, grand days! And is it not so good now? No? Alas! I fear that it is not in the sport, not in the horses, not in the world at large, that we find changes for the worse. All things are developing, evolving, marching upwards. It is in us, the individual men, to whom we must look to find “the weary change.” And yet even we must take comfort.

“Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved heaven and earth; that which we are we are.”

PAINTINGS OF RACEHORSES
BY MARTIN STAINFORTH

The figures in brackets are the Bruce Lowe family numbers of each horse.
(†) signifies no family number.

PLATE 2.

MUSKET (3) imp. Brown Horse, 1867, by Toxophilite—half sister to Gen.
Peel’s dam. Winner of the Ascot Stakes, and 9 of his 11 last races.
Imported to New Zealand in 1878. Sire of Carbine, Trenton,
Hotchkiss, Nordenfeldt, Maxim, Martini-Henri, etc. Died 1885. From a
painting of the horse, at the age of 18 years, in the possession of
the artist.
]

PLATE 3.

CARBINE (2). Bay Horse, 1885, by Musket (imp.)—Mersey (imp.). Winner
of £29,626. Sire in Australia of Wallace, La Carabine, etc. Exported
to England in 1895, where he sired Spearmint, Greatorex, Fowling
Piece, etc. Died 1914 at Welbeck, England. From a painting of the
horse, at the age of 6 years, in the possession of Mr. F. G. White.
]

PLATE 4.

TRENTON (18). Brown Horse, 1881, by Musket (imp.)—Frailty. Winner of
good races in N.Z. and Australia, and sire of Wakeful, Aurum,
Revenue, Auraria, etc. Exported to England in 1895, where he sired
Torpoint, etc. Died 1905. From a painting of the horse, at the age
of 14 years, presented to the A.J.C. by Sir William Cooper.
]

PLATE 5.

CROSS BATTERY (7). Brn. Mare, 1902, by Stepniak—Firecross. Dam of
Artilleryman (Melb. Cup), and ALEXANDRA (13) imp., Bay Mare, 1904.
Dam of Kingsburgh (Melb. Cup), by Persimmon—Ambleside. With foals at
foot by All Black (imp. sire of Desert Gold, etc.). The property of
Mr. Norman Falkiner, Noorilim, Victoria. From a painting of the
mares, at the ages of 18 and 16 years respectively, in the
possession of Mr. Falkiner.
]

PLATE 6.

THE FINISH FOR THE V.R.C. FLYING STAKES, 1902, 7 furlongs, Flemington,
Victoria. Ibex, ridden by Jas. Barden, steals the race from the
great Wakeful. From a painting in the possession of Jas. Barden.
]

PLATE 7.

MALTSTER (21). Brown Horse, 1897, by Bill of Portland (imp.)—Barley
(imp.). Winner of the A.J.C. and V.R.C. Derbies, etc. Premier sire
of Australia on five different occasions, among his progeny being
Alawa, Malt King, Desert Rose, Popinjay, Maltine, etc. From a
painting of the horse, at the age of 23 years, in the possession of
the artist.
]

PLATE 8.

WALLACE (3). Ches. Horse, 1892, by Carbine—Melodious. Winner of
£6,116, including V.R.C. Derby, Sydney Cup, etc. Sire of winners of
over £250,000, including Trafalgar, Aurous, Emir, Mountain King,
etc. Died in 1917. From a painting of the horse, at the age of 12
years, in the possession of the artist.
]

PLATE 9.

LANIUS (7) imp. Brown Horse, 1911, by Llangibby—Mesange. Winner in
England of the Rous Memorial Stakes, Jockey Club Stakes, and
£11,406. Imported to Australia in 1917 and won A.J.C. Plate,
Cumberland Stakes, etc., before retiring to the stud in 1919. The
property of Dr. Syme, Victoria. From a painting of the horse, at the
age of 8 years, in the possession of Mr. Ken Austin.
]

PLATE 10.

LINACRE (8 imp.). Bay Horse, 1904, by Wolf’s Crag—Lismaine. Winner
Champion Breeders’ Foal Stakes, Atlantic Stakes, etc. One of the
leading sires of Australia; his progeny include Dame Acre, Mistico,
Tangalooma, Panacre, Lordacre, etc. The property of Messrs. A. W.
and A. E. Thompson, Widden Stud, N.S.W. From a painting of the
horse, at the age of 17 years, in the possession of the artist.
]

PLATE 11.

YIPPINGALE (1) imp. Bay Mare, 1909, half sister to Traquair (imp.), by
William the Third—Chelandry. With foal at foot by Comedy King
(imp.). The property of Mr. Norman Falkiner, Noorilim, Victoria.
From a painting of the mare, at the age of 11 years, in the
possession of Mr. Falkiner.
]

PLATE 12.

TRAFALGAR (4*). Ches. Horse, 1905, by Wallace—Grand Canary. Winner of
£22,111, and a high-class stayer. Now at the stud in N.S.W. Sire of
Visibility, Heart of Oak, Annexit, etc. Owned by the Executors of
the late Walter Mitchell, N.S.W. From a painting of the horse, at
the age of 7 years, in the possession of Dr. Stewart McKay.
]

PLATE 13.

BRATTLE (1). Brown Mare, 1910, by Maltster—Astron. Winner V.A.T.C.
Oakleigh Plate, etc. Owned by Mr. W. Booth, N.S.W. From a painting
of the mare, at the age of 4 years, in the possession of Dr. Stewart
McKay.
]

PLATE 14.

POITREL (3). Ches. Horse, 1914, by St. Alwyne (imp.)—Poinard. Winner
of £26,919, including Melbourne Cup carrying 10 st., and all the
principal long-distance weight-for-age races of Australia. A very
high-class stayer. Retired to his owners’ (Messrs. W. and F. A.
Moses) stud in 1921. From a painting of the horse, at the age of 6
years, in the possession of the artist.
]

PLATE 15.

GLOAMING (26). Bay Gelding, 1915, by The Welkin (imp.)—Light (imp.).
Winner of 43 races out of 46 starts to date of publication, and
£28,443. One of the most brilliant horses bred in Australia. Owned
by Mr. G. D. Greenwood, N.Z. From a painting of the horse, at the
age of 6 years, in the possession of the artist.
]

PLATE 16.

ARTILLERYMAN (7). Brown Horse, 1916, by Comedy King (imp.)—Cross
Battery. Winner V.R.C. Melbourne Cup, dead-heated A.J.C. Derby, etc.
Died in 1920. From a painting of the horse, at the age of 4 years,
presented to the A.J.C. by Sir Samuel Hordern.
]

PLATE 17.

TRIPTYCH. Cross Battery, with Artilleryman as a foal at foot in 1916.
Comedy King (imp.) the sire of Artilleryman. Artilleryman, winner of
the V.R.C. Melbourne Cup, 1919. From a painting in the possession of
Sir Samuel Hordern.
]

PLATE 18.

CETIGNE (29). Bay Horse, 1912, by Grafton (imp.)—Pretty Nell. Winner
of £27,216, and second on the list of winning Australian racehorses.
Retired to the stud in 1921. Owned by Mr. T. A. Stirton, Dunlop
Stud, N.S.W. From a painting of the horse, at the age of 7 years.
]

PLATE 19.

KENNAQUHAIR (2). Ches. Horse, 1914, by Kenilworth (imp. Fr.)—Calluna.
Winner of £17,126, and a very fine individual and stayer. Retired to
the Mungie Bundie Stud in 1922. From a painting of the horse, at the
age of 6 years, in the possession of Mr. W. M. Borthwick.
]

PLATE 20.

COMEDY KING (7) imp. Black Horse, 1907, by Persimmon—Tragedy Queen.
Winner of the Melbourne Cup, V.R.C. All-Aged Stakes, etc., and
£12,945. One of the most successful stallions in Australia, having
sired Artilleryman, Biplane, Fiscom, Folly Queen, etc. The property
of Mr. Norman Falkiner, Noorilim Stud, Victoria. From a painting of
the horse, at the age of 13 years, in the possession of Mr. Ken.
Austin.
]

PLATE 21.

WOORAK (31). Ches. Horse, 1911, by Traquair (imp.)—Madam. Winner of
£17,000, and the most brilliant horse of his time. Retired to the
stud in 1917 and a very successful stallion. Sire of Soorak, Salrak,
Yanda, etc. Raced by Mr. L. K. S. Mackinnon, Victoria. From a
painting of the horse, at the age of 5 years, in the possession of
Dr. Stewart McKay.
]

PLATE 22.

PANACRE (†). Brn. Horse, 1912, by Linacre (imp.)—Panara. Winner of the
A.J.C. Epsom Hcap., etc. Retired to his owner’s (Mr. J. C. Wood)
stud in 1921. From a painting of the horse, at the age of 5 years,
in the possession of Mr. J. Campbell Wood.
]

PLATE 23.

EURYTHMIC (5). Ches. Horse, 1916, by Eudorus (imp.)—Bob Cherry. The
largest stake winner of Australia, having won £33,066, including the
Sydney Cup with 9 st. 8 lbs. Owned by Mr. E. Lee Steere, W.A. From a
painting of the horse, at the age of 5 years, in the possession of
the artist.
]

PLATE 24.

THE FINISH FOR THE A.J.C. CRAVEN PLATE, 1918, 1¼ miles, Randwick,
N.S.W. Reading from the rails: Cetigne (A. Wood) first, Desert Gold
(fourth), Wolaroi (second), Estland (third). From a painting in the
possession of Mr. W. A. Crowle.
]

MARTIN STAINFORTH: AN APPRECIATION

By W. J. STEWART McKAY.

Next to a fine picture of a lovely woman there is nothing perhaps which more strongly appeals to the æsthetic sense than a picture of a splendid thoroughbred horse. This accounts, probably, for the vogue for pictures of racehorses by Herring and artists of lesser note, which existed in England during the last century.

These pictures, however, when scrutinised with the critical eye of to-day, are found to be full of inaccuracies and exaggerations. For example, many of us are more or less familiar with the style of picture frequently displayed in old English inns, and, more rarely, in our own country. The horse is almost invariably depicted as standing in a stable with a small feed-box in one corner, his muscles bulging out and his contour greatly accentuated by the aid of unaccountable lights and shades. Every animal was shown with a ridiculously small head, tapering legs and tiny feet. Again, the horse may be shown in action, galloping, his ears well back, legs stretched out to their fullest extent, and the animal a foot or more clear of the ground, while in the background a few spectators in top hats appear watching “The Devil doing his gallop.”

Still another phase in these sporting pictures was the introduction of the owner and trainer as in Hobbs’ painting of “Eclipse,” and Herring’s picture of “The Flying Dutchman,” or a number of horses racing in the familiar stretched-out attitude, the jockeys sitting bolt upright with arms fully extended. In the background are seen the winning post and a long line of excited spectators.

The greater skill of present-day artists, coupled with the advent of the cinematograph (which has provided them with the means of studying the horse in motion), has been responsible for some wonderfully accurate and lifelike portrayals of the more prominent of our equine celebrities. It may be said with little fear of contradiction, that among latter day artists, few, if any, have been more successful in horse portraiture than Martin Stainforth. His pictures usually represent a horse as possessed of irreproachable manners, standing quite still, and of exemplary docility. But when he leaves this favourite pose and gives us the racehorse in action his art achieves supreme heights.

An Englishman by birth, Stainforth came to this country in 1909 and now claims to have served a sufficient period of probation to entitle him to be an Australian by adoption. A year or so of station life with his cousin in North Queensland inspired him with such enthusiasm for the outdoor life and our genial climate that a return to London was out of the question, so he decided to come to Sydney, there to indulge a long-cherished ambition to paint Australia’s thoroughbreds for which he had conceived so warm an admiration.

I am the fortunate possessor of Stainforth’s picture of “Artilleryman” finishing in his memorable Melbourne Cup. The horse is shown going at top speed, quite off the ground, with his legs well under him. The drawing is absolutely correct, and shows that there is at least one phase of the gallop which is graceful and sightly. But his finest interpretation of the moving horse is to be seen in his great picture of the most exciting finish in a classic race ever seen at Randwick. It was a memorable meeting of four champions in the Craven Plate of 1918, when the faithful Cetigne, ridden by Albert Wood, forced his way through a chance opening at the last moment and snatched victory from the brilliant Wolaroi, the hardy Estland, and the consistent Desert Gold. The canvas brings the scene back to all of us who witnessed the event so vividly that we live those few intense seconds over again; we do not see the impossible horses depicted by Herring; we see four horses, lifelike in the fidelity of their pictured action, and each horse an entity in itself. In a fast and close finish the eye cannot distinguish minute details of the struggling horses, and the painter, cognisant of this, does not attempt that detail which he would portray if he were painting a stationary and specially posed horse. His chief object is to convey the impression of rapid movement. That is the essential, and he has achieved this with such consummate art that the picture is a classic among racing paintings. In Australia the horse is a national asset, and in the Craven Plate picture Stainforth has endeavoured to depict for posterity the most outstanding and memorable classic event in the annals of our turf history. By his signal success he has earned the thanks of all lovers of a good horse.

Stainforth’s art, however, is not confined to the painting of horses alone. As an exponent of that now almost forgotten art, wood engraving, he has proved himself a master. Both Lord Leighton and Sir John Millais, as Presidents of the Royal Academy, selected some of his work for the Exhibitions at Paris, Berlin and Brussels as the best examples of the English engraver’s art. He also exhibited at the Royal Academy on many occasions and has achieved considerable success as an illustrator for the principal English magazines. But his best work as an engraver is to be found, perhaps, in the illustrations to Grant Allen’s “Evolution of Art.” Much of Stainforth’s present-day skill as a painter of horses is no doubt due to the patience and attention to detail with which he became imbued as an exponent of the engraver’s art.

One has only to study his “Head of Trafalgar” to realise that he holds a high place among the great painters of animals. This work is a wonderfully lifelike and faithful reproduction of the erstwhile turf idol. The head is framed in bold relief by the shadow of the empty box, a look of expectancy is in the eyes, and our attention is irresistibly drawn to the well-shaped ears and the long, white blaze that so many of us have watched with anxious hearts as the game old battler was commencing his characteristic finishing run to victory. Note how beautifully the cheek fades away to a neck, whose glossy sheen covers smooth rolls of muscles. Surely his nostrils move, and the old horse breathes again! If Landseer had painted no picture but his “Fighting Dogs Getting Wind,” a work which he executed when quite a young man, that effort alone would have raised him to the first rank of animal painters. And without hesitation I claim that Stainforth’s “Head of Trafalgar” is one of the finest studies of the horse in existence, and, as an experienced student of sporting pictures, I declare that his “Craven Plate” is the greatest racing picture ever painted.

Recently I stood before his “Poitrel,” that great horse whose achievements almost equalled the mighty Carbine. He stands on a trimmed plot of grass with a wall at the rear, his shapely, ruddy chestnut form in such clear relief that we realise at a glance how this strong fellow won a Melbourne Cup with ten stone on his back. He stands poised in his virile beauty of pliant muscles and shining coat, a splendid specimen of the thoroughbred—truly a picture that will bring delight to future generations of horse-lovers. Such a picture should belong to the Nation.

DUKE FOOTE (1). Bay Horse, 1907, by Sir Foote (imp.)—Ortelle (imp.).
Winner of £14,069, and a high-class horse. Now at his owner’s (Mr.
John Brown) Will’s Gully Stud, N.S.W. From a painting of the horse,
at the age of 5 years, in the possession of Dr. Stewart McKay.
]

DESERT GOLD (2). Bay Mare, 1912, by All Black (imp.)—Aurarius. Winner
of £23,133, and one of the best mares bred in Australasia. Now at
her owner’s (Mr. T. H. Lowry) stud in New Zealand. From a sketch of
the mare, at the age of 5 years, in the possession of the artist.
]

MALT KING (5). Ches. Horse, 1906, by Maltster—Patrona. A very
brilliant horse, winning £12,663, including All-Aged Stakes, Sires
Produce Stakes, Metropolitan Hcap., etc. Retired to his owners’
(Messrs. J. E. and C. H. Brien) stud in 1913, and his progeny
include Maltgilla, Green Malt, Hawker, Pannikin, etc. From a
painting of the horse, at the age of 5 years, presented to the
A.J.C. by Mr. J. E. Brien.
]

BIPLANE (3). Brown Horse, 1914, by Comedy King (imp.)—Air Motor.
Winner of £13,596, including A.J.C. and V.R.C. Derbies, Craven
Plate, etc. Retired to the stud in 1922. Raced by Mr. G. D.
Greenwood (N.Z.) and now owned by Mr. T. A. Stirton, Dunlop Stud,
Merriwa. From a sketch of the horse, at the age of 3 years, in the
possession of Mrs. H. Gordon.
]

THE WELKIN (19). Brown Horse, 1904, by Flying Fox—Woodbury. Imported
in 1910. A brilliant sprinter and a phenomenal stud success. Premier
sire of Australia for 1921–22. Among his progeny are Gloaming,
Furious, Thrice, Rosina, Isa, Three, etc. Standing at the Melton
Stud, Victoria, the property of Mr. E. E. D. Clarke. From a sketch
of the horse at the age of 16 years in the possession of the artist.
]

CAGOU (13). Brown Horse, 1909, by Ayr Laddie (imp.)—Tartar. Winner of
£15,514, including A.J.C. Metropolitan Handicap (twice). Owned by
Mrs. O. C. Flemmich, and now at the stud in Queensland. From a
painting of the horse at the age of 7 years, now in the possession
of Mrs. Flemmich.
]

GREENSTEAD (4*). Brown Horse, 1914, by The Welkin (imp.)—Tuning Fork.
Winner of £12,450, including A.J.C. Epsom Hcap., etc. Now at the
stud in N.S.W. From a painting of the horse, at the age of 6 years,
in the possession of Mrs. F. Body.
]

BEAUFORD (18). Brown Gelding, 1916, by Beau Soult—Blueford. Winner in
1922 of 8 races and £11,390 up to the date of publication. One of
the most brilliant horses of recent years. Raced by his breeder, Mr.
W. H. Mackay, Sydney. From a painting of the horse, at the age of 6
years, in the possession of the artist.
]

MARTIN STAINFORTH sketching the famous Poitrel. The artist when
preparing for a painting, inspects the horse and makes written notes
and slight sketches.
]

A couple of pages reproduced actual size from Martin Stainforth’s
note-book. He makes detailed notes of outstanding features and
carefully preserves the general character of the horse.
]

At his studio he makes a memory sketch of the horse as it impressed
him. On a second visit he corrects various parts and paints these
separately until the character is secured.
]

With his note-book, his rough sketch and careful studies of various
parts, the artist proceeds to paint the finished picture, using the
rough sketch as his main guide.
]

By this method the artist obtains freshness, virility and truth that
could not be secured if a complete painting were attempted from an
animal in training.
]

“Ready,” a sketch by Martin Stainforth in the National Art Gallery of
N.S.W. In the original of this sketch Martin Stainforth has
displayed excellent technique, and shows his facility for painting
animals in a lifelike manner.
]

In his paintings of dogs the same extreme care is shown to preserve
the character of the animal. Pal, the bull dog sketched above, is
owned by Mrs. Herbert Marks.
]

In this picture Martin Stainforth has successfully overcome the
problem of painting an eight-year-old setter as it would have
appeared at the age of three. The dog, Mallwyd Albert, is owned by
Dr. Herbert Marks.
]

There have been a few men in Australia who could both draw and paint the horse. One of them was Douglas Fry. I knew him well, and had every opportunity of examining his work. As a draughtsman he was fine. His pencil studies of horses showed expert facility, yet when he employed colour as his medium, though he produced an artistic study, the animal often lacked that lifelike quality so essential to a successful portrait. Stainforth may not be able to do with the pencil what Fry could, and I am sure he doesn’t know the horse as Fry did, yet he far out-distances his late rival, not only in his facility for technical expression and in his gift for infusing life, but because he has the power to delicately handle his subject without robbing it of its strength and character.

Aylyng Arnold, who from 1906 to 1910 was a special correspondent for the “London Sporting Life,” happened to be visiting Australia in 1915 and saw some of our artist’s work in Melbourne. He did not know Stainforth, but he went back to his hotel and wrote him a letter in which the following words occur: “I can confidently say I have seen as many portraits of horses as falls to the lot of any one man, but never have I seen anything approaching yours.”

It is surprising to find how few notable Australian horse-owners have a sufficient affection for their animals to desire their portraiture in paint.

I once asked Stainforth to give me some idea of his methods. He replied that he first examines the horse carefully, making small pencil sketches with remarks on characteristic features, and then, with the impressions fresh in his mind, makes a small sketch in colour from 8 to 12 inches in size, giving as far as possible the pose, proportions and colour, without any attempt at fine detail. This study is then compared with the horse, and any alterations that are necessary are made, and further notes are made all round the study. In some cases he makes several sketches, each one getting nearer the perfect representation. The head is the part that requires the greatest care, and many studies of this alone may have to be made before he is satisfied with the results. Having decided the size of the canvas, he next decides on the pose which will best suggest the character of the subject and the direction from which the light will fall to show to best advantage such salient features as the head, shoulders or quarters. An appropriate background has also to be chosen.

When we come to sum up the merits of Martin Stainforth as a painter of horses, the first point which must be conceded in his favour is his power for conveying a faithful delineation of the particular animal that he is dealing with. He possesses a gift for detecting a horse’s chief characteristics and is thus enabled to interpret anything in the animal’s conformation that is vital in helping to make the completed work an accurate portrait, in addition to its being an agreeable work of art. As regards his medium, he is equally at home in either water-colour or oils, but he tells me that oils give him much more scope for his large pictures, while water-colour is more suitable for his small studies. His technique has reached such a pitch that he can paint a horse’s coat with such fine detail and beauty of texture that it resembles the work of a painter of miniatures.

Stainforth’s love for the horse helps him to strike the ideal pose for each particular animal, and this is most happily shown in his studies of the brilliant Woorak, who was noted for his exuberant spirits and playful, contented nature. Perhaps there is nothing more difficult to achieve in painting a horse than the successful suggestion of his muscular body by means of delicate light and shade. The ordinary painter of the horse generally represents exaggerated muscles, but in Stainforth’s horses, though we do not actually see muscles brought into relief, we are nevertheless made aware of their presence under the glossy skin with its vivid sheen.

The reproductions of Stainforth’s pictures included in this volume will serve in a great measure to prove to the public generally his calibre as a painter of the horse. Those of us, however, who have had the pleasure of studying his work in the originals, have every confidence in allowing posterity to judge of his merits. Certain it is, that at no distant date his pictures will be acclaimed and much sought after as classic examples of equine portraiture.

THE SECRET OF STAYING POWER

By Dr. W. J. STEWART McKAY

The ambition of every man that breeds racehorses is to produce a good stayer. That this is a difficult matter is made evident by the large number of horses entered for the Derby and St. Leger and the few that run.

Therefore the question is naturally asked: Why cannot all horses run a distance? The answer is that all horses can run a distance; it’s the _time they take_ that is the important point.

In dealing with the questions relating to “staying,” we must take into consideration _distance_, _time_, and _weight_. We must try and find out the difference between the horses that can sprint six furlongs in 1.12 and the horses that can go two miles in 3.24, and ask how they differ from the horses that can go 80 miles from sunrise to sunset.

If a number of racing men and breeders of racehorses were to gather round a ring, and five horses—say, Soultline, Prince Foote, Woorak, Desert Gold and Poitrel—were brought into the ring, would it be possible, if the onlookers did not know the horses or their pedigree—would it be possible, I ask—to pick out the real stayers? Could a good judge tell that Woorak could just get a mile, and that Prince Foote, who was about the same size and build, could stay all day? Could a good judge say that Soultline could not stay a mile? and tell that Desert Gold, the champion of her day, was no champion once she was asked to go much more than a mile and a half? I doubt very much whether any judge could place these horses in the true order of their staying powers by merely inspecting them. The late Andrew Town, who may be regarded as one who knew everything that was to be known about the points of a horse, once said to me that had he seen Carbine with a rough coat in a country sale-yard that he would not have rushed to buy him.

If judges were able to tell the future of racehorses by their conformation, then yearlings that are sold at 1,500 guineas would not be such consistent failures. Let us never forget that the father of English racehorses, the immortal Eclipse, was sold as a yearling for less than a hundred guineas; yet he was the ancestor of Sceptre, who was sold for 10,000 guineas as a yearling, and the ancestor of Flying Fox, who fetched 39,375 guineas at public auction.

What, let us ask, is the secret of Staying Power?

We may say at the outset that all the horses that we have mentioned above had the requisite bone and muscle. Soultline and Woorak could each have carried a sixteen-stone man without turning a hair, and the same could have been said of Desert Gold. While, then, we must grant that a given horse must have the proper development of bone and muscle, this development must be of a particular pattern. This, of course, is obvious; a Clydesdale has far more muscle and bone than any racehorse, but the type of muscle is of no use for speed, though suitable for endurance, and we shall see later on that endurance is a very different thing to staying power. Mere size is not the secret, since some of the finest-looking horses ever seen at Randwick have been non-stayers—Machine Gun, Malt King and Tangalooma, for instance. But it is because size so largely influences one’s mind that high prices are given for well-grown colts in the hope that they will prove “Derby colts.” If we study the history of the evolution of the racehorse we shall find some justification for this idea, for the present-day horse is a bigger animal than he was in former days. While the average racehorse nowadays, among the best horses, would be over 16 hands, we find, if we go back to 1745, that 15.2 (the height of Sampson) was considered almost gigantic. Captain Hayes thought that English horses had increased an average of an inch in height between 1867 and 1897, and that the average horse was six inches taller than he was 200 years ago. Certain it is that pony horses don’t win the Derby nowadays.

But, as I have said above, the size of the horse is not the essential point; with size there must go a particular type of heart, if a horse is going to stay. Anyone who saw Beragoon as a yearling might easily have mistaken him for a two-year-old, and a year later he looked like a three-year-old, and he was as good as he looked, for he won the Derby here and in Victoria, yet he could not stay in the true sense of the word.

While large size is the rule among stayers, yet small horses may occasionally be good stayers and have the required pace. That marvellous horse Prince Foote was very stoutly built, but he was not taller than Woorak—this his trainer, Frank McGrath, assures me—yet he won everything, including Derbys, Legers, and a Melbourne Cup. He had the proper staying heart and he transmitted it to Prince Charles and enabled him to win a recent Sydney Cup. Yet in the same stable was Furious with a Welkin heart; the one with the non-staying heart was, a little before the day, almost favourite, the other went out at 33 to 1, and won.

Wakeful, the finest mare over all distances ever seen on the Australian turf, was on the small size, yet she won the Sydney Cup with 9.7 in the saddle.

We may at once admit that there may often be a very considerable difference between the conformation of the stayer and the sprinter, yet the real difference lies hidden from the sight of the judge, for the difference is in the _particular kind of heart that the animal has inherited_.

If my contention as regards the heart be accepted, we then have a simple explanation of the common rule that staying sires produce staying stock. Carbine, for instance, was the prince of stayers, and his son, Wallace, gave us Trafalgar and innumerable other stayers. Positano was a stayer, and he gave us four Melbourne Cup winners. Maltster, on the other hand, was an indifferent stayer, and while he was one of the most successful sires in the whole world, he gave us only one stayer, Alawa. Some of his sons and daughters could just get a mile and a half—Malt King and Maltine were both Metropolitan winners, but they could go no further. Thus it is brought home to us that though a sire may be the father of hundreds of brilliant milers, it is reserved for a few horses to beget stayers of two miles or more. Nothing could show this better than a study of the progeny of Grafton and Linacre. These sires have been the fathers of hundreds of horses that have won races up to a mile, and yet we look in vain for long-distance horses from either. True it is that Peru won an Australian Cup, and that Lingle and Erasmus both ran second in the Melbourne Cup, but three swallows don’t make a spring.

Let us then recognise this fact, that just as a man may transmit his nose, his eyes or his ears to his sons and daughters, just so may a horse transmit his bone, his muscle, his colour and his _heart_ to his sons and daughters. So now we come to the secret: It matters not whether a horse is black or brown or chestnut—the essential thing the animal has to possess in order that he may stay is a _staying heart_.

Now, the first objection that will be put forward to this proposition is that every now and then a true stayer arises from a non-staying sire—I admit this is true. I have already mentioned that Alawa was a son of Maltster; Lingle a son of Linacre, Peru from Grafton, while Eurythmic, the most wonderful horse at present racing, who won a Sydney Cup carrying 9.8 on his back, with a run that will for ever make him famous, had for a sire Eudorus, a brilliant horse for a mile, especially when that mile was in the mud!

The answer to these objections is that, just as a genius _sometimes_ comes from a back-lane; just as a poet is born in a hovel; just as some great orator comes from a peasant stock; so with a sprinter for a sire we get sometimes a stayer. This would have been explained by Darwin by his theory of Atavism—throwing back to a former ancestor for hidden powers—and this is a reasonable explanation. Thus we may reasonably say that David, through his granddam Wakeful, did inherit some of her ancestor Musket’s power to stay. But this leads up to another explanation that can be put forth with plenty of examples to back it up—i.e., that the horse may get his staying powers from his _mother_: that is, that he has inherited his dam’s heart, not his sire’s. Eurythmic must be regarded as an excellent example of this, for, as we have just mentioned, Eudorus was but a good miler, and his other sons do not show staying powers in spite of the fact that Eusebius won a Derby and a V.R.C. St. Leger, both, however, in shocking time! But when we come to examine the pedigree of Bob Cherry, the dam of Eurythmic, we find that staying is spelt in every line of her pedigree, being by Bodadil from Ardea by Wallace.

Now that I have enunciated my theory, let me suggest why it is that some horses begin their career in brilliant fashion, and look from their first performances as though they would stay, and yet go off and never come back. My opinion is that some of these horses have poor hearts and are made too much use of during their two-year-old period; while some horses during their early three-year-old career are asked to do more than their hearts are fit to do, as a consequence their _hearts become dilated_. They fail time after time, and are consequently called rogues; in reality, they may be quite honest animals, but their strained hearts cannot respond when called upon—Bigaroon, I think, is an example.

I regard the failure of Eurythmic, when matched against Beauford, as an instance of the dilated heart. Eurythmic was asked to carry the record weight of 10.7 in the Futurity Stakes. He won, and critics said that it was merely a welter race, and that he had nothing to beat. When he came to Sydney to run against Beauford, almost every trainer gave their opinion that Eurythmic would win. What happened? He pulled up absolutely in distress, and a few days later was beaten by David and Furious over two miles. The real explanation is that no matter what may be said to the contrary, Eurythmic did not have a true staying heart, having inherited it from his mother; that it probably became strained in the Futurity and probably dilated, and that while he may win at a mile or a little more, I think it unlikely that he will ever win at two miles again.[1]

Footnote 1:

This was written in April, 1922.

Let me make my meaning about the dilated heart quite clear. First of all, one must understand that the heart is a pump; that its walls are composed of muscle—though not of the same kind of muscle that the flesh of the arms and legs is made of. Then the valves of this wonderful pump are made of very strong tissue almost as strong as fine canvas. Considering the amount of work that the heart is called upon to do, getting no entire rest either night or day, the wonder is that it can keep on for sixty or seventy years in man, and twenty or more in the horse, in such a very efficient manner.

Now, if a man who has been working in an office gets “run down” from overwork, and takes it into his head to go off for a holiday, and part of that holiday is devoted to climbing mountains, he will often come back to his office in a worse condition than when he started. What has happened? He has tried to make his heart muscle do work which it is not prepared to do. He has strained his heart. In other words, this wonderful pump has done its best to cope with the extra work that it was called upon to do, and while it may have succeeded, the effort has affected it, and the result of the extra work performed is that the heart has become _dilated_, and, for the time being, it is not able to do the ordinary work that it is called upon to perform. Provided such a heart is rested and nursed it may come back, but if the possessor of such a heart tries to drive it, and does not rest it, then that heart will fail to do ordinary work, and will most certainly fail if asked to perform extra work.