It was
spring 1657 at Gravesend on the Thames, gateway to London
harbor. The young Duke had a lot on his mind as he watched
his retainers unloading the horses. After days below deck on
the rolling vessel, the animals were shaky. The leggy grey
stallion, who had been his veteran mount on battlefields in
Europe, almost stumbled off the gangway into the water.
As the Duke remembered a lifetime of fighting, his eyes took
on the inward-looking, troubled expression of a combat
veteran.
George
Villiers 2nd Duke of Buckingham had nervously chosen this
moment to come home from nine years of exile. England had
just survived 15 years of hideous civil war over whether
King or Parliament would rule, and what religion would rule
the ruler. Villiers had been raised by the royal family
after his father was assassinated. At age 15 he rode off to
fight for the King, his surrogate dad. But Charles I had
been captured and beheaded by his Protestant enemies in
Parliament. George had then fought for his surrogate brother
and King-to-be, Charles Stuart, Prince of Wales. At 21 he
was promoted to general of the Prince’s cavalry. That effort
too had failed. His beloved brother Francis was killed in
battle. His mother, Kate Villiers Countess of Buckingham,
also died during the war. England was now a republic, ruled
by a Protestant dictator, Oliver Cromwell, who styled
himself Lord Protector. George and the surviving royals had
fled to Europe. Since his properties had been confiscated,
he supported himself in exile by selling smuggled family art
treasures and serving as a volunteer officer in the French
army.
Now 29, George had just had a serious falling-out with
Prince Charles. And he was broke. It was time to come home.
So the Duke was slipping back into England, hoping he could
wangle an amnesty from Oliver Cromwell. Could he do this
without alienating his Prince brother for good? Could he get
his properties back? Would his own head wind up in a basket?
When George’s father was murdered, George had inherited the
greatest fortune in England. Most of the magnificent
estates, with income of nearly £25,000 a year, were
appropriated by Cromwell himself. Right now George was
trying to figure out how to get two of them back. He planned
to approach Sir Thomas Fairfax, who had been Cromwell’s
former commander-in-chief. Cromwell had rewarded Lord
Fairfax for his wartime services by deeding him George’s
London residence plus the Villiers’ famed stud farm,
Helmsley, in Yorkshire. Fairfax was a kinsman of George’s,
and a fellow Yorkshireman. Maybe, just maybe…
Villiers’ eyes refocused on the grey horse as he stroked the
animal’s neck. This stallion had proven fast on the
battlefield. Now that peace had come, George could have
hoped to win with a fine horse like this at the Newmarket
races. But the Puritans who controlled the new regime had
clamped a moralistic strictness on English life. Horse
racing and wagering were banned, along with other amusements
beloved by the English.
If George’s negotiations with Cromwell fell through, he
would need a fast horse like this to get away on.
Going Home
The
foregoing scene admittedly has a little speculation in it,
but it’s based on facts. Earlier in this series I wrote
about George’s openly gay father, the 1st Duke of
Buckingham, who was long-time lover to King James 1st.
George Sr. collected Eastern-bred horses to improve the
clunky English racehorse, but he never bred a winner
himself. Now his bisexual son, George Jr., would dream of
breeding that elusive winner.
Different historians have handicapped George differently.
Some praised him as a statesman, defender of liberties,
patron of the arts, gifted poet and essayist – a charming
and witty ladies’ man. Others condemned him as a rake,
buffoon, murderer, traitor to his King, untalented scribbler
-- a heartless and vain sodomite. The Encyclopedia
Britannica took a middle road, saying: “Even his critics
agree that he was good-humoured, good-natured, generous, an
unsurpassed mimic and the leader of fashion. With his good
looks, in spite of his moral faults and even crimes, he was
irresistible to his contemporaries.”
My take on Villiers is different. He’s a fascinating
character -- a mercurial mix of opportunist and idealist,
over-achiever and n’er-do-well. Not only did George have
passionate convictions in personal and religious freedom in
a violent and intolerant time, but he lived out those
convictions in a sex life that would stand out today – and
he almost got himself executed for it.
Historians do agree on one thing: George Jr.’s contribution
to sports history. According to historian John Heneage
Jesse, when it came to horsemanship and horse racing,
Villiers was “the most accomplished man of his age.”
That spring day in 1657, as George rode into London to find
Lord Fairfax, he was ready for compromise. It was
unthinkable for a titled peer like himself to work for a
living like a tradesman. How could he talk Fairfax into
giving his properties back? Fairfax had a daughter, Mary,
who was rumored to be “stout and plain, wealthy, virtuous
and forgiving.” Mary was already engaged to another. But
maybe, just maybe …
George knocked on Fairfax’s door, and turned on the Villiers
charm.
It worked. The retired general quickly became a fast friend
of George’s. Fairfax hadn’t supported Charles I’s execution,
and was turned off by other Protestant excesses. Mary was
even plainer than the rumor – short and skinny. But she was
swept off her feet by this handsome Cavalier. On September
15, George and Mary were married at the Fairfax estate in
Yorkshire.
As a wedding gift, Lord Fairfax signed the two Villiers
properties back to his son-in-law. The general had little
interest in the Helmsley horses, other than for army use.
Three Days till Death
Yorkshire was the Kentucky of England, a perfect place to
breed racehorses, with its brisk climate, grassy moors and
mineral-rich soil. Helmsley was already a storied spot –
four square miles of rich green fields and ancient trees
along the River Rye, with its adjoining villages. There his
father, the 1st Duke, as well as his mother’s ancestors, the
Manners family, had bred important racehorses for two
hundred years. George hadn’t seen the place since he was a
kid.
When George did his first inspection, his heart must have
sunk as he saw the lingering scars of war. Yorkshire had
long been the heartland of Stuart support in England, so it
was a major target of Cromwell’s army. With its magnificent
12th century castle, Helmsley had been a key defense in
north Yorkshire. Parliamentary troops led by Lord Fairfax
had besieged and finally defeated the royalists here. The
castle tower and walls were badly damaged by heavy
bombardment. Pastures still showed the ruts of cannon
wheels. The rugged Tudor-era manor house stood almost intact
in its park of elms, but it looked rundown and unlived-in.
Farther on, the Tudor stables and paddocks came into view.
Miracle of miracles, life was stirring here, and the equine
staff came out to welcome His Grace. The loyal Hesseltine
family – studmaster, grooms, riders -- were local
professionals who had run the Villiers horse operation since
his father’s time. George must have felt a pang as a few
familiar horses poked their heads out to sniff him. He
stroked the aging Morocco Barb grey stallion that King
Charles had given him back in 1637, when he was a little
boy. Bald Peg, the chestnut mare with the striking white
face, was there too. She was 22 – bred by his mother from
his father’s horses after the 1st Duke was assassinated.
Finally George looked over Old Peg’s 2-year-old grey
daughter by the Barb, that the grooms called Young Peg or
Grey Peg.
With income now arriving from tenant rentals on his lands,
George had funds to start some restoration at Helmsley.
Meanwhile, the young couple found Helmsley a bit rundown for
elegant living, so they camped at the Fairfax home with the
general and his wife.
George had hoped that Cromwell would leave him in peace. But
when news of the wedding reached London, the Lord Protector
was furious. Cromwell had learned that George might be
secretly working with other royalist sympathizers to
undermine the republic, and he saw the marriage as a
potentially treasonous alliance between two popular
commanders who could turn the army against him. George was
arrested and dragged off to the Tower of London. Once again
his properties and horses were confiscated!
Lord Fairfax was at risk of arrest too, and tried to calm
Cromwell.
As months of imprisonment passed, George lived with the
thought that a death sentence for treason meant he’d be
hanged, drawn and quartered. But fate stepped in – in 1658,
Cromwell fell ill. Through the window of his cell, on
September 3, George heard the cannons boom to announce the
dictator’s passing. He wrote later: “If Oliver had lived for
three more days, I would surely have been put to death.”
Cromwell’s successor, his son Richard, freed the Duke. But
George now had to fight with Parliament to retrieve his
properties and horses again.
When Richard Cromwell proved unable to carry on his father’s
policies he resigned in 1659, and the republic collapsed.
Many English had not enjoyed life under the Puritans. So a
group in Parliament invited the refugee Stuart heir, Charles
Prince of Wales, to come home and restore the monarchy. In
1660, amidst wild celebration, George Villiers’ boyhood
buddy was crowned King Charles II. Theaters and inns opened
again. Boys were allowed to play football on Sunday. And
Charles legalized horse racing in the first week of his
reign.
For a time the King was chilly to Villiers, and Parliament
dithered on the property matter. Finally in 1661 Charles and
George made up. According to Thoroughbred Bloodlines,
Charles issued a warrant for the return of his friend’s
properties. The order stipulated “one Turkish horse, one
Barbe and five mares.”
Because of the Civil Wars, historical records relating to
17th-century racehorses are often incomplete, unclear or
missing entirely, causing today’s racing historians to tear
their hair out. That’s the case with these seven Villiers
horses, who are a big detective story to gnaw on.
Of the seven, only two can be tentatively identified: one of
the two stallions, the Old Morocco Barb, and Grey Peg, later
called the Old Morocco Mare in England’s first General Stud
Book. The other five are a mystery. Old Bald Peg may or may
not have been among the returnees. The other stallion is
important because he’s one of the first “Turkish horses”
mentioned in English racing history.
Historians spin several theories to explain this Turk’s
appearance out of the blue. My own theory starts with the
fact that George Villiers saw combat in the French army and
surely had a favorite cavalry mount. Bringing your horse
home for peacetime sporting use was something that many
British officers did. As a peer of the realm Villiers had to
keep up appearances, so he wouldn’t have come home afoot.
Mystery Horse
To start solving the mystery, it’s important to know that
the terms “Turk,” “Barb” and “Arabian” were mostly
understood as a hint about a horse’s geographic origins. The
17th century horse trade was immense and international, with
horse markets in major ports. Early racehorse breeders had
favored improving their native stock with imported Arabians
and Barbs. According to the 1791 General Stud Book, “Barbe”
meant that a horse or its immediate ancestors came from
Spain. The best Spanish horses had genetic roots in imports
from “Barbery” (Morocco) in North Africa. By contrast,
“Arabian” denoted horses from the Middle East, with many
shipped out of Aleppo in Syria, and some from South Arabian
and Egyptian ports. Some “Turks” came out of Aleppo, but
most came from elsewhere in Ottoman territory, like
Constantinople and Smyrna.
Suddenly, after the Civil Wars, the word “Turk” started
popping up on English pedigrees. Arabians and Barbs and
Turks all had distinctive characteristics that distinguished
them from one another. Was there a trait that suddenly made
Turkish horses a hot item?
Indeed there was. The early breeders, including George’s
father, had been perpetuating a quirk that Arabs and many
Barbs share, namely a short back with a missing lumbar
vertebra and a high-set tail. A short-backed horse has a
short stride. But a longer-bodied horse has a longer stride.
So a longer stride can mean more speed.
Was there a longer-backed speed horse around? Yes indeed. In
the Ottoman heartland, the Akhal-Teke (meaning “pure Turkish
horse”) was bred for war, long-distance travel and racing.
Its speed, toughness and spirit were legendary. It was
taller, leggier, wirier, with a longer back than the Arabian
or Barb. Even half-bred Tekes inherited these desirable
traits. During the last Crusade, Turkish horses had helped
the Ottoman cavalry roll over the top of Christian cavalry
and advance into eastern Europe. By the 17th century,
Europeans had captured a few Tekes and fell in love with the
breed’s performance.
How would George Jr. stumble across a Turkish horse? He had
spent part of his exile in Holland. The Dutch controlled
European commerce with the Middle East and had no scruples
about horse-trading with the “heretic enemy” Ottomans. As an
experienced horseman, George could have spotted the
potential of a fine Teke stallion brought to Holland by the
Levant Trading Company, who were major horse brokers. Also
in Dutch exile was George’s guardian and riding teacher,
William Cavendish, Earl of Newcastle, a great horseman who
may have approved the choice. The Earl thought highly of
Turkish horses.
So if my scenario is correct, George brought this Turk home
with him in 1657. After Lord Fairfax gave Helmsley back to
George, this horse was living at the estate when the
confiscation happened later that year.
There’s a tradition, cited by Thoroughbred Bloodlines
online, that in 1657 Oliver Cromwell acquired a grey Turkish
stallion from the Levant Company. The horse supposedly came
from Aleppo by way of Holland, and was kept at Hampton
Court, once the royal stud. There he bred mares till after
Cromwell’s death. There are enough coincidental connections
between this tradition and the theory I propose, that I
think the “Cromwell grey” was actually Villiers’ horse.
Cromwell was a lover of good horseflesh too, and possibly
had no problem grabbing George’s fine cavalry horse as
“spoils of war,” along with George’s other property.
Cromwell was interested in breeding better army horses.
Subsequent history noted that George Jr. was the long-time
owner of a grey stallion dubbed Buckingham’s Turk, aka the
Helmsley Turk, parentage unknown. Names were casual in those
days – a horse might have an affectionate nickname at the
barn, but often a racing calender or breeder’s advertisement
simply noted its owner’s name, as in “Mr. Massey’s chestnut
mare” or simply “the Leedes Arabian.” Was Buckingham’s Turk
the same animal as the horse in the 1661 warrant? If this
was the Helmsley Turk, he was still covering mares in 1685,
at the impressive age of 33.
So it’s more likely that the Helmsley Turk was a son of that
Villiers import that Cromwell grabbed. He may have been
foaled there at Helmsley. Since he was grey, the “Cromwell
grey Turk” was a likely sire. Grey coat color is a dominant
gene; a grey horse must have at least one grey parent.
If my theory is correct, George got back the original
“Turkish horse,” and he also got a bonus: one of his mares
was already pregnant with a foal got by this horse back at
Hampton Court. Later the original grey stallion that George
loved so much may have met with some unhappy accident, and
he had to pin his hopes on the long-legged baby colt.
This detective story is a good example of the difficulties
that Thoroughbred genealogists face, as they try to track
individual 17th-century horses who appear and reappear
through the mists of changing ownership and changing names.
Why do they care so much about these long-ago details?
Because centuries of inbreeding has magnified these early
horses’ powerful genetic influence on the winners of today.
In any case, the Helmsley Turk would spend his next 20-odd
years in the stables and pastures along the River Rye,
living a pampered life. While most early racehorses bore the
name of their owner, this stallion carried the proud name of
his birthplace, where the royalist cause had fought for its
life.
Circuit Parties, 1600s Style
From 1661 till 1670, George was possibly distracted from
horse-breeding by the need to blow off war-time steam. The
English were relaxing into Restoration peacetime, and a
party spirit boiled up everywhere, from the arts to sports.
Charles II was becoming wildly popular as the “Merry
Monarch.” He got the country back on its feet, and saw his
people through disasters like the Great London Fire of 1666,
so he would be remembered as one of England’s greatest
Kings. The “merry” part referred to sex. During Charles’
reign, according to historian George S. Rousseau, “Sexual
liberty was condoned in ways previously unknown. The
Restoration was an age of transformation in philosophy and
science….Though the libertinism of the court was overtly
heterosexual, underneath resided what we today would call a
tolerated bisexuality that had few parallels in prior
European history.”
Charles married to a Portuguese princess, but he had dozens
of mistresses, including George’s beautiful cousin Barbara
Villiers. The King fathered dozens of children outside of
marriage. In the spirit of the times, Charles was also
rumored to go both ways.
For about 15 years, Charles II was attended by the Merry
Gang, a posse of young nobles and gentry, many of whom were
clearly gay or bisexual. Naturally the Gang’s leader was
George Villiers, whose progressive views included a visible
contempt for traditional church morality. According to
Rousseau, “The king himself was accused of engaging in overt
sodomitical liaisons with the Duke of Buckingham.”
Many conventional biographies about George Villiers refrain
from mentioning that he was bi. But historian Howard Love
says flatly in his English Clandestine Satire, 1660-1702,
that Buckingham “was a bisexual rake who was prosecuted for
sodomy.” There was no concept of “coming out” in those days,
but the permissive atmosphere of Restoration high society
meant that George made no secret of his liking for both men
and women. From childhood he would have been aware of his
father’s relationship with King James I. In one of his
poems, George wrote:
Nothing is harder in the world to do
Than to quit what our nature leads us to
Sometimes George Jr. went for men who were less rugged than
himself. Now and then he dallied with actors – he was an
amateur playwright himself, owned a playhouse and wrote a
hit play, The Rehearsal. Rumor had it that he was intimate
with young Edward Kynaston, famed for playing female roles.
Another of George’s BFFs in the theater was playwright
George Etheredge. Known as “gentle George” to his friends,
Etheredge was fair-haired and slender, beautifully dressed,
and probably not at home on a horse’s back. He wrote some of
the era’s most sparkling comedy. The Duke mentioned
Etheredge in a poem, saying that Apollo had his eye on
gentle George – an allusion to the Greek god’s fondness for
handsome mortal men.
Yet another “gentle” (code word for gay) favorite was
celebrated poet Abraham Cowley. Buckingham had a visibly
warm relationship with him ever since they were teen
students at Cambridge. It was said that Cowley never spoke a
word of love to a woman in his life.
For sporting and macho guy stuff, George’s best bud was John
Wilmot, Earl of Rochester. Another Civil War hero, Wilmot
was a good horseman and extreme party animal. Though it was
still customary for gentlemen to jockey their own
racehorses, Wilmot was probably too drunk most of the time
to stay in the saddle, so he hired a professional “boy ryder,”
as jockeys were called. In the recent film The Libertine,
Wilmot is masterfully played by Johnny Depp. The film skirts
LGBT questions, but in real life, the Earl of Rochester
wrote witty gay erotica and was clearly bisexual.
Among all these hot men, Etheredge probably came closest to
what we might consider a long-time item for Villiers, though
it’s a question whether the 2nd Duke ever allowed himself to
truly love anyone. All the people he’d loved in the past had
died horribly.
The Merry Gang lived by a circuit-party schedule. According
to Wilmot, they rose at ten, breakfasted at two, were drunk
by five. Wilmot once admitted to being drunk for five years.
The booze of choice was imported wine spiked with opium –
this drug was making its debut in Europe, thanks to trade
with China. Often George had dinner at 2 a.m., washed down
with a French beverage that he’d introduced to English high
society, called champagne. While under the influence,
Villiers and Wilmot loved to pull off mad escapades and
practical jokes, often in disguise.
To add spice to their adventures, sodomy laws were still on
the books in England. Restoration liberality had reduced
punishment from death to a day in the stocks. But sodomy
charges could still be used as a political weapon, as we
will see.
With most of his pre-war property retrieved, and an income
of over £20,000 a year, George was living grandly -- for the
moment. In 1666, still considering Helmsley a bit rough-cut
for his residence, he built a vast mansion at Cliveden on
the Thames and installed his mistress, the Countess of
Shrewsbury, there. The couple had scandalized society when
her husband challenged the Duke to a duel and the Duke
killed him. Dueling was prohibited, but the King pardoned
his bro. George’s enemies pegged him as a “murderer” anyway.
His wife Mary, who still found George irresistible, put up
with it.
George was not the only sexual nonconformist in his family.
Mary Villiers, his sister, was morphing into an influential
writer and early feminist. She kept the court buzzing with
gossip about her swordsmanship, dueling, fondness for men’s
clothes, and the erotic lesbian tinges in her poetry.
It was risky for the King to show political support for a
man who was rumored to be his “favorite.” In 1662 Charles
did appoint George Jr. as a member of the Privy Council, a
body that advised him privately on crucial matters of state.
His father the 1st Duke had served King James in this same
capacity. George was to prove a less conventional advisor
than his father.
Beneath the clink of champagne glasses, there was ominous
rumbling of old religious conflicts that had shaken England
for centuries. As a Stuart, King Charles II had his quiet
Catholic sympathies and personally wanted to see freedom of
religion established. But Parliament aimed to restore the
Church of England’s supremacy, and passed laws that targeted
Roman Catholics, Protestants, Presbyterians, Puritans,
Quakers. All were required to attend the Anglican Church.
They could not legally assemble or talk about their beliefs
publicly. Catholics were barred from public office. As head
of the Church of England, the King was compelled to go
along.
George was horrified by this trend. As a Freemason, he had
progressive views on most issues, and contempt for most
established churchery. But he was sympathetic to the
Quakers, who were being imprisoned, tortured and hung for
their refusal to kowtow to Anglican demands. Quaker leader
William Penn was a fellow Yorkshireman and friend of
George’s.
England’s future, and his own, was looking darker.
Reviving the Sport of Kings
When the Merry Gang weren’t getting high or having sex, they
were racing horses. Their Merry Monarch was re-starting the
sport from scratch. Charles made a deal with Lord Darcy, a
leading Yorkshire breeder and friend of Villiers, to supply
him with 12 running horses a year. Lord Darcy was the new
Master of Horse.
The center of excitement was Newmarket, a town 65 miles
north of London, with miles of rolling open heath all
around, where Charles’ grandfather, the gay King James I,
had first developed a court gathering place and racecourse.
The Puritans had burned down James’ palace, so Charles
rebuilt it, and set the tone for an informal social life by
walking the streets on foot and chatting with subjects.
Newmarket became the red carpet of the Restoration, the
place to be seen. Even working-class folk crowded into town
for the noisy, festive race meets. At the center of
merriment was George Jr. On a Sunday evening he would often
entertain the court with what he called a “sermon.” This was
actually a bawdy stand-up comedy monologue that had
everybody screaming with laughter.
Charles built a huge stable in Newmarket, so turfists could
board horses there -- “the oldest training establishment in
the world,” according to Newmarket historian John Sutton.
Now and then, big fields of horses went pelting around the
new oval course, past the new grandstand at the finish post.
But the usual event was a match race, with political
tensions around who beat whom. Wagering went so sky-high
that the King was alarmed by bankruptcies of titled bettors,
so he issued a royal decree limiting the size of bets.
Finally in 1665 Charles established the Newmarket Town
Plate, a race to be run every year over a 4-mile course, in
several heats, with half an hour’s rest between heats. It
was the first race ever run under written rules. Some of the
stipulations: The rider to be a gentleman. Each horse to
carry 12 stone (168 pounds). No whipping each other by the
riders. No cruelty to the horses. The first horse to win
three heats was the victor. This event was a tough test,
something like a national championship.
During this time George trained and raced a string of horses
that he borrowed or bought from others and probably stabled
at Newmarket. They were fed a special grain bread and raw
eggs, and went out for training gallops under blankets to
make them sweat off the last extra ounce. To show off his
horsemanship skills, George likely served as his own jockey
when he could.
But his record of wins was spotty. In 1666, courtier Sir
Paul Neile wrote to a friend from Newmarket: “There have
been 3 matches more. My Lord Buckingham ran the Parson's
Mare, as they call her, with a gelding of Mr. Bar. Howard's,
and lost. My Lord Garrett ran his horse with my Lord
Buckingham's horse Spavins, and lost."
As the court “progressed” around England each year, George
ran horses at other courses as well. Between 1667 and 1672,
he served as the King’s Master of Horse. So he now had
Darcy’s job of supplying runners to the crown. It was a
risky responsibility; the MOH had to front expenses, and
often the King didn’t pay his bills. Indeed, by 1667 the
Duke was living so splendidly that he was reckoned a ruined
man, with debts of 140,000 pounds sterling.
He may have owed other breeders in Yorkshire, and paid in
kind. In the early 1670s, his precious Grey Peg (later
called the Old Morocco Mare in the first Studbook) was out
on a lease to the farm of Edward Leedes. There she produced
a filly that was the spitting image of her mother, Old Bald
Peg, so they named her Bay Peg. Leedes kept this girl and
got winners from her.
Was the Helmsley Turk seen on the track between 1661 and
1670? Historians have torn their hair looking for records of
his wins -- he must have run brilliantly somewhere, somehow,
to have the reputation he did. Perhaps he was the “Spavins”
noted in 1666. As historian Richard Hardiman points out,
pedigrees and racing calendars reflected the post-war chaos
and a lack of a central registry for racehorses. Hardiman
says, “Some would race in the same name for different owners
and in different names for different owners. Some raced
unnamed under their owner's name or in the name of their
sire or dam.” Even in the royal Plates, a winner might be
noted simply as “the Milbanke horse” or “Bruce’s horse.”
Not till after 1670, when the Turk might have been nine
years old, do his first hoofprints appear on the breeding
record. His mares were mostly local, owned by elite
Yorkshire breeders who were relatives and cronies of George
Villiers. Between 1670 and 1686, he sired a number of
important sons and daughters. Among them was Bustler, a big
winner at Newmarket owned by Rowland Place. Bustler also
sired Newmarket winners, as well as half a dozen outstanding
mares who headed several distinctive families of winners.
In short, the Helmsley Turk was emerging as an historic
foundation sire. His grey coat coat color was passed down
through descendants clear into the 20th century.
Party’s Over
Well into the 1670s, the Merry Gang rode on. But the party
was ending. Abraham Cowley died in 1667. George was
devastated, and put a monument over the poet’s tomb in
Westminster Abbey. In 1679, as the Earl of Rochester’s horse
won the Plate race at Woodcock, the Earl himself was fading
horribly from the effects of alcoholism and venereal
disease. Rochester died in 1680.
Buckingham escaped the addictions that struck down his Merry
bro, but years of abuse had damaged his own health. He
suffered from rheumatism and liver problems, and was gaining
weight. When he passed the 12-stone mark, he probably
stopped riding races. Worse, things went bad for him
politically, as the Restoration lost its champagne fizz and
sank into one of England’s darker times. Lord Fairfax died,
so a powerful ally was gone.
The Duke’s sex life was becoming a national issue. The Earl
of Clarendon, who had pushed for Parliament’s repression of
non-Anglican religion, took the position that George was a
godless monster. Parliament debate was noisy. At one point
the Duke got into it with another peer and they yanked off
each other’s wigs. Both were thrown in the Tower to cool
off. In 1667 Clarendon got George disbarred from the Privy
Council. But Buckingham fought back with icy ruthlessness,
and engineered the Earl’s downfall.
Through it all, King Charles managed to stay supportive, and
re-appointed George to high office in 1670.
But in 1674, Buckingham was openly attacked in Parliament
over his relationship with Lady Shrewsbury. The two were
compelled to swear a legal oath that they would stop
cohabiting. Parliament put the thumbscrews on Charles II,
and convinced him to fire Buckingham from all royal
employment “forever.”
George had a cat-like ability to land on his feet, so he
“reformed” -- going to church with his wife, making payments
on his debts. But he also stepped forward as leader of an
opposition party that had formed around religious freedom.
This was George’s moment of becoming a real statesman. He
was taking a huge risk – countless thousands of English had
died at the stake or the headsman’s block over this issue.
In 1675 the Duke kept a promise to William Penn and
introduced a bill in Parliament that would stop persecution
of Quakers and other sects. He also grabbed his goose-quill
pen and wrote some commentaries on the subject. But George’s
bill was scuttled.
By 1678, the Duke was in even deeper trouble, as England
veered into panic over the “Popist plot.” Half the country
was sure that Catholic enemies were planning the King’s
murder, the downfall of government. A series of state trials
chewed up people’s lives. Tower Hill was busy with grisly
public executions, including some who turned out to be
innocent. Buckingham’s enemies tried to implicate him in
these alleged conspiracies. As part of their strategy, they
charged that George had engaged in sodomy with a young
conspirator named Philip Le Mar. The Duke spent more time in
the Tower, was put through a state trial by Parliament, and
defended himself with savage wit.
Eventually charges were dropped. On May 21, 1680, George was
freed from the Tower for the last time.
But the boyhood bond of family affection between King and
Duke, and whatever more intimate relationship might have
been there at one time in the past, was finally broken.
A Champion at Last
Right in the middle of this terrifying time, Helmsley
produced her greatest winner. It couldn’t have happened
without the Hesseltines. As historian David Wilkinson told
me, this loyal family “kept things going at the Helmsley
estate, especially in times of trouble.”
The mother of this wonderful horse was Grey Peg. In 1674,
she was home from her lease, and George wanted another foal
out of her. She was now around 20 years old, a matriarch.
For some reason the Duke decided not to mate her with the
Helmsley Turk. Instead, he had the Hesseltines walk Peg down
the road to Lord Darcy’s farm at Sedbury, and breed her to
Darcy’s Yellow Turk. This stallion probably had the palomino
color sometimes found in Tekes.
The following spring, 1675, Bay Peg dropped a bay colt who
was dubbed Spanker. He probably didn’t start till 1680, when
he was five -- about the time that the Duke faced his second
round of sodomy charges. Racing calenders don’t reveal any
wins by a Spanker, so it’s likely that he was entered under
other names or another ownership. This might have been done
for his safety, because of the raging public controversy
around his owner.
But when the first General Stud Book was published in 1791,
its authors stated firmly that Spanker was “the best horse
at Newmarket in Charles II’s reign.” Turkish genes may have
given Spanker the longer stride that was now needed to win.
Today the Unofficial Thoroughbred Hall of Fame calls him
“the first star of the early British turf.”
Sadly, George might not have seen his horse win. While the
silver plate was being awarded, he may have sat sweating in
the dock at Parliament, answering a prosecutor’s questions.
Spanker and the Helmsley Turk were the cutting edge of a
Turkish trend in racehorse breeding. In 1683 the Ottoman
Turks were defeated at Vienna and fell back from their aim
of occupying western Europe. As more defeats piled up,
enough Turkish horses were captured on the battlefield that
it rained Turks on England. The Byerley Turk arrived in the
late 1680s, to become a major foundation sire. He was
followed by dozens of others. With time, that missing lumbar
vertebrae of Arabians and Barbs would virtually disappear
from the Thoroughbred, as the breed grew taller and bigger-
framed, with a visible Turkish stamp.
Home at Last
In 1681, at age 53, Villiers left public life in disgust. He
paid off some of his debts by selling Cliveden and other
properties. But he held onto Helmsley, and made it his home
for the first time. Income from tenant farmers provided some
cash flow. His old retainers had stayed very loyal, so he
could even keep a small staff.
There, under the shadow of the half-ruined castle, he and
his wife lived a strange recluse life in the antiquated
manor house. The once-athletic gentleman whose smile dazzled
the world was now a hefty country squire with a few wooden
teeth, chugging ale with other squires at the Cock and
Bottle Inn. George founded the Bilsdale Hunt, put together
the first pack of hounds, and spent pleasant days
fox-hunting with his new cronies. Even then, a certain
shredded glamour still clung to him. A mistress or two still
came and went from Helmsley, along with a boyfriend or two,
including George Etheredge, who was still in touch. Finally
his long-suffering wife moved out.
The sad day came when George’s racehorses had to be sold to
pay bills. The Helmsley Turk went to Lord Darcy’s older
brother, the Earl of Holderness. Grey Peg joined the band of
royal mares at Lord Darcy’s stud. Spanker was sold to Sir
Charles Pelham in Lincolnshire. From then on, the horse was
known as Mr. Pelham’s Bay Arabian. He was still alive in the
1690s – siring Newmarket winners and a bevy of foundation
mares, thus establishing his own historic sire line. Soon
the rundown Helmsley stables sheltered only a few horses for
hunting.
In February 1685, word came from London that his estranged
brother King Charles had died suddenly. Since Charles had no
legitimate children, he was succeeded by his brother James
II.
In 1685, the Duke fired one last shot at the church
establishment from his stable door. He published a pamphlet
asking “whether there be anything more directly opposite to
the doctrine and practice of Jesus Christ, than to use any
kind of force upon men, in matters of religion?” He accused
those who used force of being anti-Christian.
Two years later, in April 1687, while the aging Duke was out
hunting one day, he fell ill or had a riding accident –
accounts vary. Somebody carried him to the home of a tenant
in Kirkbymoorside, six miles from Helmsley. There he
lingered for several days. Word went out by galloping
messengers that he was dying, and churchmen rushed to his
bedside, hoping to get him to repent. Accounts vary on
whether he did or didn’t.
On April 16, George Villiers died. He was 59.
The new King, also a friend to tolerance, gave him a state
funeral. George joined his father, brother, sister,
grandmother and his college love Abraham Cowley among the
quiet tombs of Westminster Abbey.
Since George and Mary never had children, the title of Duke
of Buckingham reverted to the crown. George’s sister had no
surviving children as well. But the family line continued
through the 1st Duke’s siblings. The Villiers’ most famous
descendent today would be Princess Diana, whose pedigree
goes back to the Duke of Grafton, Charles II’s
out-of-wedlock son with George’s cousin Barbara Villiers.
George left no will, just a pile of debts. So Parliament
passed a measure allowing Helmsley to be sold, and it went
to Sir Charles Duncombe, a wealthy banker whose family had
done property deals with George’s father. The Duncombes, and
their descendants the Fevershams, never lived at the
Helmsley manor – indeed, no one lived there again after the
Duke died, and the place fell into decay. Instead the family
built a new mansion elsewhere on the estate and became horse
breeders in their turn. The present Lord Feversham lives
there today.
Part of the estate is now a riding school, where David
Wilkinson tells me he identified what he believes to be the
original Tudor-era stables, where Old Bald Peg and maybe the
Helmsley Turk were born. The ruined castle itself, and its
manor house, still stand starkly amid the green meadows, now
the property of English Heritage and partly restored for the
benefit of growing tourism.
Yorkshire itself is still the Kentucky of England. Its
tracks and open country stir with the thump of hoofs as
racehorses train. One of the big races on the calendar is
still the Newmarket Town Plate.
The Legacy
A few years after George’s death, England finally started
passing laws that provided a growing measure of religious
tolerance. The Duke’s deepest convictions also made
hoofprints to the colonies that would become the United
States of America, along with the first Thoroughbreds
exported there. William Penn and other Quaker settlers would
give a major push to establishment of tolerance in the U.S.
The sentiments in George’s parting pamphlet would be echoed
by Thomas Jefferson.
Recent genetic research on Thoroughbreds reveals that DNA
tracing directly back to Old Bald Peg, through her own
“family,” can still be found in the breed.
For LGBT people today, the Villiers story raises intriguing
questions about human pedigrees. Is there a “gay gene”? What
ancestor might have passed a gay gene down to the 1st Duke
of Buckingham? Did his son turn out bisexual because of
social environment or genetics? Or both? What about George’s
sister, Mary? Was she a lesbian, and if so, did she inherit
a sexual-orientation gene from a gay father? Today, as in
George’s day, the church lobby is quick to hand down its
dire Biblical judgment on this question, but science has yet
to finish its work here.
Today the sport of Kings seems tolerant of its two sexually
unorthodox pioneers, the 17th-century Dukes of Buckingham.
Thoroughbred Heritage states online that “horses on the
Helmsley estate were central to the evolution of the
Thoroughbred.”
This October, the 2007 Breeders Cup gets underway at
Monmouth Park in New York State. Millions of fans will be
keyed up for two days of world-championship racing that
honor the great breeders of our time. The horses will be
flown in from all over the world. As they parade to the
post, they walk tall, often 16 hands or more at the
shoulder. As they spring from the starting gate, their long
strides -- 25 feet or more -- will eat up the track with
blazing speed.
Maybe, just maybe, one or two are descendants of horses bred
by that long-ago father and son.
Further
reading:
Books:
George Villiers, Second Duke of Buckingham, 1628-1687: A
Study in the History of the Restoration, by Winifred, Lady
Burghclere (John Murray, London, 1903).
Memoirs of the Court of England During the Reign of the
Stuarts, by John Heneage Jesse (Richard Bentley, London,
1855).
Wits and Beaux of Society, by Grace and Philip Wharton
(George Routledge and Sons, London, 1871).
Rochester and Other Literary Rakes of the Court of Charles
II, by Thomas De Longueville (1902)
King James & Letters of Homoerotic Desire, by David M.
Bergeron (University of Iowa Press, 1999).
Early Horse Racing in Yorkshire and the Origins of the
Thoroughbred, by David Wilkinson (Old Bald Peg Publications,
York, England, 2003).
The Horse Trade of Tudor and Stuart England, by Peter
Edwards (Cambridge University Press, England, 2002).
The History of Newmarket, and Annals of the Turf, Volumes
I-III, by J. P. Hore (London, A. H. Bailey & Company, 1886)
