Bon Marche (77 page)

The members of the agricultural society were quiet. Attentive. They understood that they were hearing words from the grave.

“‘The uninstructed in horseology may ask, ‘What do you mean by a blood horse, or thoroughbred? I mean the horse which traces back, with certainty, through a long line of distinguished ancestry to the beautiful and game little creatures which were imported into England from the deserts of Arabia about the middle of the sixteenth century. How they came there, or by what means they had been brought to the degree of perfection they possessed at that early period, I am not able to answer. From that time to the present the best talent of intelligent breeders has been zealously and energetically employed throughout the world, aided, too, by all the leading governments (except our own) to develop and improve this noble animal. They have not failed.

“‘By attention to his comfort, with a liberal supply of proper food from infancy to maturity, his size has been enlarged, consequently his strength and speed increased; though beautiful when brought from his native desert, he is now magnificent. He has been made so nearly perfect that breeders of the present period are puzzled to know what further improvement can be anticipated.'”

Alma May's mouth was dry. She wished for a sip of water. None being available, she swallowed hard and continued: “‘To form an idea of the wonderful power of the blood horse, we will suppose his weight to be nine hundred pounds, this being about the weight of the racehorse. By the strength of his muscle he carries this weight together with his rider, one hundred pounds more, making one thousand pounds, not on a downgrade, but on a horizontal line, a mile in one minute and forty-three seconds, almost equaling the power of what we know of steam. Of all animated nature the feathered tribe alone can equal his speed. If we imagine a feathered monster of equal weight, I doubt whether he could surpass him in his flight.

“‘The uninformed may see him only as a beautiful creature, imagining that he is bred for a race alone and being fit for nothing else, believing he has no other value than occasionally to contribute to the amusement of the public on the racecourse.

“‘This is an egregious error!'”

The Princess looked up. “My father had written an exclamation point there, and I probably didn't read it with the verve he intended.”

There were a few chuckles.

“‘The racecourse is only the school to educate and prepare him to exhibit his wonderful powers in competition with the best of the royal family—a field the plebeian dare not enter, no scrub ever having won a prize with thoroughbred competitors. Ten drops of plebeian blood in one thousand would endanger his success.

“‘The racecourse is, therefore, a necessity, for through its instrumentality the blood horse has been brought to his present high degree of perfection. Human judgment is often in error, but on no subject more frequently than in the opinions we form on the relative power and value of the horse. It is as easy to judge the powers and qualities of man by the eye, and all will admit the fallibility of such judgment.

“‘No, my friends, we can only judge correctly the intellectual and moral worth of our great men when we view them on the world's stage in competition with distinguished competitors. Without a theater the world could never have known those distinguished delineators of human character whose names now fill many an honored page in human history. The same is true of the blooded horse. The racecourse is his stage, his theater.'”

She paused, knowing that the next words might offend some in the audience.

“‘I am aware of the prejudices existing against the racecourse by religionists, generally on account of its immoral tendency. That these prejudices are not altogether groundless, I admit; but that the immoralities of a well-regulated racecourse are greatly magnified by those who know the least of their operations, I am perfectly satisfied; that it may be still further improved, I earnestly desire.

“‘For more than sixty years I have been a breeder of the blood horse, and an active participator in his education and development, and can affirm that vice and immorality do not necessarily attach to racing and, as before remarked, the racecourse is a necessity, for without it the breeder could not know the superior horses and the best strains to propagate, and without this knowledge his improvement would cease and deterioration begin.'”

Alma May turned to the final page.

“‘Here the question arises whether we will permit this noble and most useful creature, which has been brought to his present degree of perfection by the efforts of breeders for near two hundred years—and by the expenditure of as many millions of dollars—to retrograde into the coarse and clumsy brute he represented previous to the introduction of the Arab, or go on to improve and develop still higher and more useful qualities. For one, I advocate his preservation, and at the same time call upon the moralist to unite with me in the effort to remove all objectionable features that may attach to the institution so necessary for his development.

“‘Beauty, speed, action, durability, and the many admirable qualities I claim for this magnificent animal do not constitute his chief—nay, nor his greatest—value. His mission is to improve his race. The pure and unadulterated blood which flows in his veins improves and gives additional value to ALL the horse family.'”

Alma May Dewey looked up, her misting eyes surveying the audience.

“Gentlemen, those are the words of a man who was in love with the thoroughbred horse—the late Charles Dewey, master of Bon Marché.”

This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

BON MARCHÉ

Copyright © 1988 by Chet Hagan

All rights reserved.

A TOR Book

Published by Tom Doherty Associates, Inc.

49 West 24th Street

New York, NY 10010

ISBN: 0-812-58364-7 Can. ISBN: 0-812-58365-5

eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to [email protected]

eISBN 9781466892286

First eBook edition: February 2015