Born in 1797 in Norwich, Captain Martin William Becher competed in the first hurdle meeting to be held at Aintree in 1835, winning two of the races. In the first-ever Aintree steeplechase, he rode The Duke to a one-length victory.
In 1839, in what was to become regarded as the very first Grand National, he rode the 20/1 shot, Conrad, falling at the first brook. Becher was thrown into its icy waters and remarked later that 'Water should never be taken without brandy'.
As a youngster, he hunted on a pony and he perfected himself as a horseman with Sir Thomas Mostyn's hounds.
In 1823, Captain Becher donned racing colours for the first time on Cottesford Heath. The race was for horses which were not thoroughbreds: Becher finished second on his own horse, Lark. Later, on the same animal, he toured the country, contesting in sundry hunters' stakes.
'I've never had such a lark on Lark in my life,' he commented after.
When racing became established at No Man's Land, Tommy Coleman fixed up a ride for Becher in the first hurdle.
Though just six weeks short of his death, George lV took such an interest in the meeting that he instructed Delme Redcliffe to enter The Colonel and Hindostan in the Gold Cup. Hindostan won by a head, beating Coleman's bay, Hunter. Becher came nowhere on Figurante, who was having her first race. However, such was the style and panache of Becher's riding that Lord Verulam remarked to Coleman 'That's a deep fellow you've got on Figurante, her feet were higher than our carriage when it went over.'
The first St Alban's Steeplechase came off in the Spring of 1830. There were 16 runners: they raced from Arlington Church to the Obelisk in Wrest Park, near Silsoe. Scaffold poles tied with sheets were placed at the start and the finish: the jockeys' only instructions regarding the course were 'leave that church on your right, and the clump on your left, and get to the hill beyond.'
The following year, having heard about the excitement of the first, a huge crowd assembled to watch the renewal: carriages and horsemen poured into the town in such numbers that the outskirts were blocked.
Tommy Coleman, dressed in a blue coat and kersey breeches, officiated. At his bugle call, the riders saddled up in the paddock of his inn, The Chequers.
At a given signal, they came out, three deep, and the race was on.
Becher was riding Wild Boar and looked sure to win when the horse slipped fell close to home. So severely was it injured that he died the next day. Becher emerged unscathed.
The race had been won by Moonraker, who beat a field of eleven and who had been brought for £18 when the horse's legs had grown to stiff to pull more water carts.
That evening, the demand for beds in Abbey town far exceeded the supply; Becher and his father had not long retired to a double bedroom when they were aroused by a furious knocking at the door.
'Sir' called an angry voice, 'you have my bedroom and I insist that you vacate it at once,'
'I will not move out of this bed tonight,' replied Becher.
'Then you are no Gentleman, and I shall insist upon satisfaction in the morning.'
'Alright' said the tired jockey, who then went back to sleep.
When Becher arose the next morning, he had quite forgotten about his midnight visitor until a red-faced little man demanded to know what Becher had to say for himself.
The Captain replied that he was ready to give the stranger satisfaction: the red-faced man immediately left in search of a second and ran into Tommy Coleman.
Coleman told him not to take on the Captain saying 'you're a dead man if you do. He's already killed three men in duels and last night threw two men out of the window who tried to beat him to the bedroom.'
The stranger immediately left the hotel, never to be seen again, and it was not until later that Tommy realised that he hadn't paid his bill.
There was a famous match run in 1833 between Colonel Carritic's Napoleon - a slow, half-bred horse, but a magnificent jumper - and Squire Osbaldeston's Grimaldi. The stakes were £1,000 a side. The distance to race was six miles over stiff country, plus they had to swim across the river Lem.
Captain Becher rode Napoleon, Osbaldeston rode his own horse. The Squire was not a good swimmer - Becher was.
In the race, they reached the River Lem together: both entered headlong and disappeared. So long were they under that many spectators thought Napoleon was drowned, but suddenly Becher's cap was seen, then the horse's ears and the two floated downstream. Becher managed to get the horse back on shore but was now 100 yards behind the Squire.
A tremendous battle ensued but the Squire, who just prevailed, may have gone the wrong side of a flag. It was an unsatisfactory result and the bet was cancelled. The two remained friends: indeed, later that day they went out hunting together and took another ducking in the Lem.
Shortly after this, Becher became involved with the then famous Vivian, a horse which had originally belonged to Lord Vivian - hence its name - and passed on to Captain Lamb.
When Squire Osbaldeston challenged the world with his horse Cannonball, Becher came up from Market Harbro' to ride Vanguard. At the last moment, he was persuaded to switch to Vivian which, having borrowed a saddle to draw the correct weight, he did.
500 gentlemen from three hunts gathered to witness the finish, a titanic struggle in which Becher prevailed.
A month later, Becher rode a second match on Vivian, this time against the Marquis of Waterford on Cock Robin. So well did Cock Robin fence that at one stage he was some 300 yards clear yet, again, after another desperately close finish, Becher narrowly won.
The Marquis was bitter in defeat, saying that he was beaten by a better horse, not by a better jockey.
'Very well,' said Becher. 'We'll swop horses and race the whole distance back.'
The Marquis declined.
Captain Becher, tremendously popular with the ladies, had a ruddy, weather-beaten face adorned with thick, side whiskers. He possessed a short, thick frame and was by no means an elegant horseman but he had fine hands and great courage.
He was a most agreeable companion, full of rare stories of earlier times and the men who lived in it. He was also a great mimic and a first-class singer and could belt out 'A Bumper Burgundy', a popular song of the day.
He was hale and hearty to the last, his closing years spent in affluence and comfort, surrounded by a host of staunch friends.
After a brief illness, Captain Becher died on 11th October 1864. He was 67.
Becher, who married twice, was the son of William Becher and Harriet Martina Thompson. He married Susan Dobree on 14 August 1825 at St. Marylebone, London, and they had two sons, Martin John King Becher and Dr. George Tobin Dashwood Becher.
His biggest wins include:
1834: Aylesbury Steeplechase - Vivian
1835: St Albans Steeplechase - Norma
1836: St Albans Steeplechase - Grimaldi
1837: Cheltenham Steeplechase - Vivian
1837: Leamington Steeplechase - Vivian
