Duke of Magenta (1875–1899) was one of the most successful racehorses in the United States in the 19th century.
Foaled in 1875 at the Woodburn Stud near Lexington, Kentucky, he was owned by New York City tobacco tycoon, George L. Lorillard and trained by Hall of Famer R. Wyndham Walden. Duke of Magenta was one of the last sons of the thoroughbred sire Lexington. In 1878, he won the Preakness Stakes, the Withers Stakes, the Belmont Stakes, and the Travers Stakes, a feat accomplished since by only two other colts: Man o' War and Native Dancer. Even the trio of Preakness, Belmont, and Travers have only been won by six horses, compared to the eleven who have won the modern Triple Crown of Preakness, Belmont, and Kentucky Derby.
In Duke of Magenta's day, the Derby was a recently established race not yet considered important by East Coast breeders. Duke of Magenta died on September 20, 1899 at the farm of J. McCloud in Brookline, Massachusetts.
In 2011, the Duke of Magenta was inducted into the National Museum of Racing and Hall of Fame.
Famous quotes containing the words duke of, duke and/or magenta:
“It seemed a long way from 143rd Street. Shaking hands with the Queen of England was a long way from being forced to sit in the colored section of the bus going into downtown Wilmington, North Carolina. Dancing with the Duke of Devonshire was a long way from not being allowed to bowl in Jefferson City, Missouri, because the white customers complained about it.”
—Althea Gibson (b. 1927)
“When the Prince of Wales [later King George IV] and the Duke of York went to visit their brother Prince William [later William IV] at Plymouth, and all three being very loose in their manners, and coarse in their language, Prince William said to his ship’s crew, “now I hope you see that I am not the greatest blackguard of my family.””
—Horace Walpole (1717–1797)
“Your wits can’t thicken in that soft moist air, on those white springy roads, in those misty rushes and brown bogs, on those hillsides of granite rocks and magenta heather. You’ve no such colours in the sky, no such lure in the distances, no such sadness in the evenings. Oh the dreaming! the dreaming! the torturing, heart-scalding, never satisfying dreaming, dreaming, dreaming, dreaming!”
—George Bernard Shaw (1856–1950)