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Victorian London - Publications - Social Investigation/Journalism - The Horse World of London, by W. J. Gordon, 1893 - Chapter 7 - The Queen's Horse
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CHAPTER VII
THE QUEEN'S HORSE
IN the horse-world of London, the highest circle, the most
exclusive set, so to speak, is that housed at Buckingham Palace. To many loyal
subjects the Queen's horses are as much an object of interest as the regalia;
and as cards of admission are freely granted by the Master of the Horse, the
Royal Mews are probably the best known stables within the bills of mortality.
There are in them from ninety to a hundred horses - state
horses; harness horses, coach and light; riding horses, and what not - whose
forage bill runs into 30 quarters of corn, 3½ loads of hay, and 3½ loads of
straw a week. Immediately to the right of the entrance gate is a stable for ten
horses, mostly light and used in ordinary work; to the left is a similar stable
similarly occupied. On the east side of the quadrangle are the coaches, state
and semi-state, and, among others, the Jubilee landau. On the west side are more
horses - sixteen or twenty of them. The state stables for the creams and blacks
are on the north side, and to the left of them are housed the thirty-two
splendid bays, many of them bred at the Queen's stud farm at Hampton [-92-] Court;
the rest bought from the dealers at prices ranging from 1801. to 2001. Stables
there are in London of more aggressive architectural features, and
some in which there is a far greater show of the very latest improvements;
but there are none more well-to- do looking, none in which the occupants seem
more at home. Comfort and order are everywhere apparent; [-93-] the
grooming is, of course, perfection; and there does not even appear to be a straw
out of place in the litter.
To keep a horse in health we are told that lie should not
stand in a stable giving him less than 1,200 cubic feet of air. The average
London private stable gives him only 720 cubic feet ; at the Regent's Park
barracks he has 761 cubic feet ; at the new cavalry barracks at Knightsbridge he
has 1,781 cubic feet. In the Royal Mews he has 2,500 cubic feet, and as these
roomy, comfortable halls average about twenty stalls apiece, the highly-bred
harness horse can be seen in them amongst the most favourable surroundings. And
so can the riding horse.
The Queen has, however, long given up riding, and the only
saddle horses in the stable are those used by the suite. Raikes relates in his
journal that a few days after her accession she sent for Lord Albemarle, then
Master of the horse, and said to him, 'My lord, you will immediately provide for
me six chargers to review my troops!' It is probable that the order was not
fully executed, but if it were, matters are managed very differently now.
The Queen has her favourites, and in matters of horseflesh is
content to leave well alone as long as possible. If a pair fetches her Majesty
from Paddington, it is always the same pair; if she drives in the Park with four
horses, it is always the same team; so that practically out of the hundred
horses the Queen uses but six. The horses ridden by the equerries and outriders
are also kept at their special work as long as they are found fit, and the
visitor going the round of [-94-] the stables after
an interval of years, will find Blackman, and Phalanx, and Sewell, and their
companions still flourishing, and seemingly more conscious than ever of the
distinguished success with which they do their duty in the royal equipage of
everyday life.
Of a different class altogether are the 'state horses,' which
appear only on procession days, and are as much a part of the pageantry of
royalty as the crown and sceptre, and other working tools of that degree. These
have a stable to themselves, the 'creams' on one side, the blacks on the other.
The creams, like the dynasty, are of Hanoverian origin, but they have for
generations been of British birth, and, like a large number of the royal horses,
first breathed fresh air in the paddocks of Hampton Court. In popular
superstition they represent the white horse of Hanover; but that peculiar strain
died out long ago, except heraldically, and the creams were always distinct from
it. Another erroneous notion, fostered, perhaps, for advertisement purposes, is
that the state creams are 'cast' and find their way into circuses; but the only
specimens that are ever allowed to quit the palaces go as geldings to the band
of the Life Guards. With that one exception, the creams come to London when
three years old, and live and are buried in the service in which they are born.
Being either entire horses or mares, they require a good deal of attention; they
are never left alone by day or night; and the man in charge, who has the highest
post in his department, sleeps in the stable, and claims to have the longest
day's work in the employment of the State.
Opposite to them are the blacks, which though, [-95-]
[-96-] perhaps, not so graceful, are more
serviceable-looking. They also are of Hanoverian origin, being essentially
well-bred specimens of the better class of hearse horse, now rare amongst us
owing to the preference given by our undertakers to the more sympathetically
lugubrious - and cheaper - Flemish breed. They are big, splendidly showy horses,
'with a power of pride in them.'
Like the creams, they never appear on duty with unplaited
manes, the blacks being decked with crimson ribbons, the creams with purple. A
trifling matter this of plaiting the manes, but on trifles oft a crown doth
hang. Once only did the state creams go forth unplaited. It was in 1831, when
Earl Grey and Lord Brougham waited upon William IV. to recommend the immediate
dissolution of' the Parliament, which was playing havoc with the first Reform
Bill. The scruples of the King at dissolving so young a Parliament had all been
overcome, and he announced his intention of starting for the Houses forthwith,
when it was pointed out that there would be no time to plait the horses' manes.
'Plait the manes!' said his Sailor Majesty, 'then' - with the loudest and,
of course, most dignified of expletives - 'I'll go in a hackney coach!' Horror
of horrors! the King on such a mission in a hackney coach! And so the manes were
left unplaited, and the State was saved.
But the unplaitedness disturbed many courtly minds, and Mr.
Roberts, the King's coachman, above all men, was most indignant. And so it
happened that a still more terrible thing took place. The horses had not been
out for some time, and being harnessed in a hurry, they were, like their
coachman, not in the [-97-] placidest of tempers.
As they passed the colour party of the Guards, the ensign, in the usual way,
saluted. The creams took fright at the flash of colour, and broke into a trot.
The great Mr. Roberts began to curse the soldiers loudly, and tried to check the
horses in vain. On went the coach briskly. 'It was noticed,' say the
contemporary historians, 'that his Majesty proceeded at a faster rate than
usual, in his eagerness to carry out the wishes of his people,' and, in short,
he reached the Houses considerably before his time. All went smoothly enough
inside, but outside there was anything but smoothness. The indignant
colour-bearers appealed to their superior officers, and Mr. Roberts had to
descend in double quick time from his exalted perch and humbly beg pardon for
his insult to the outraged Guards. 'Swear at the King's colour, sir! Apologise
instantly!' And he did. And if he had not done so, it is more than probable that
the King would have had to have called that historical hackney coach for the
return journey, while the unplaited team went home, certainly Robertsless, if
not coachmanless.
Neither the creams nor the blacks have had much to do of late
years. Though they are the leaders of the London horse-world, their appearances
are few; but they can be occasionally found taking their exercise in pairs. The
work of all the royal horses is necessarily irregular, as, though a few may be
sent to Windsor, the bulk are kept continuously in London, and when the Court is
away their occupation is mostly mere exercise. But when the Court is in town
they have quite enough to do, work in the stables beginning at five o'clock in
the morning, and sometimes, as when the German Emperor [-98-]
[-99-] was at the palace, there is no rest until
half-past two next morning. The routine is conducted with much more precision
than in a private stable. Great care is taken that every turn-out is as it
should be, and at every public function the carriages are paraded and inspected
in the quadrangle before they are allowed to leave the stable gates.
The weight behind the state team is about equal to that of a
loaded pair-horse railway van. The old state coach weighs four tons, that
wonderful coach which cost 7,652l. 16s. 9½d., out of which 2,500l.
went to the carver ; the new one weighs a little less. By the 'old' state coach
we mean the one made for George III., the one with which the black harness is
used; the present state harness is of red morocco, a remarkably handsome piece
of work with its gilt mountings, though it looks rather heavy in the glass case
in which, like its predecessor, it is kept hung up to view. But as with the
horses and carriages, the harness in everyday wear is in far better taste, and
the working harness-room is quite a picture of brilliancy, the steel being kept
by the younger servants as bright as the brightest of silver, and showing up at
its best on the blue cloth pads.