A Mirror of the Turf; Or, The Machinery of Horse-Racing Revealed, Showing the Sport of Kings as It Is To-Day

by James Glass Bertram

In 1782 the second horse began to be paid £100 out of the stakes; in 1869 the sums given to the runners-up were respectively £300 and £150 for first and second. At a previous date sums were deducted from the stakes for police expenses and the judge! The stake run for by Diomed, the first winner of the Derby, would amount to 1,125 gs., and for the next ten or twelve years the sum raced for was seldom under 1,000 gs. A good many years elapsed before the 2,000 gs. was topped, but a time was coming when even double that amount was thought a small sum with which to reward the owner of a Derby winner. In Lord Lyons' year (1866) the stakes reached £7,350, and again in 1879 when Fordham won on Sir Bevys, the sum of the stakes amounted to over £7,000, whilst £5,000 and even £6,000 were on several occasions placed to the credit of the owner of the winning horse.

On the day that Pyrrhus the First won the Derby, which was in the year 1846, the "time" taken to run the race was for the first time ascertained—it was two minutes and fifty-five seconds; but on two or three occasions two minutes and forty-three seconds was the time indicated; whilst on three anniversaries the running of the race has exceeded three minutes, the distance being one mile and a half. Many racing men do not believe in the time test, thinking it impossible to ascertain with the necessary precision the precise moment of the start and finish.

Not till the advent of a sporting newspaper—now dead, but famous in its day, Bell's Life in London—did the Derby become popular with the people. It has been said that "Bell made the race," and the saying is undoubtedly to some extent true, as in the course of time that journal began to devote special attention to the Derby, giving a minute history of the breeding and performances of those horses likely to take part in the struggle. A feature of the work undertaken by "Bell" was greatly relished, namely, a very full description of the Sunday gallops of the various competitors on Epsom Downs, a special edition of the paper being issued with the information, containing also the latest quotations of "the odds." As time went on these features of Bell's Life were eagerly looked for and enjoyed, the circulation of the journal being considerably increased by the pains taken to give accurate reports. Then the day of the race came in for an immense amount of journalistic attention, the struggle itself and all its incidents being minutely described, the throng of people on the routes to and from Epsom, and all the varied occurrences which characterised the journey, being graphically described.

Nowadays the "form" of the horses which compete in the Derby is so well known as time progresses that no special efforts of the kind alluded to are made; moreover, nearly every newspaper devotes so much attention to "sport" that no person need be ignorant of any matter connected with the turf, and particularly the great race for the Blue Ribbon.

Railways to-day give such ready access to even distant seats of racing sport that men are enabled to witness every year as many races as they please, at a moderate cost in the way of expenditure. But for all that, Epsom on each recurring Derby Day becomes a focus of attraction, being annually visited by tens of thousands of persons, "the masses," of course, predominating; "the classes," however, being always largely represented, members of the Peerage having usually a personal interest in the race as owners, perhaps, of some of the competitors, or are found attending in the hope of seeing the horse of a friend prove victorious.

"The classes," indeed, have always been liberal supporters of the Epsom Derby; the patrician element was wont, indeed, to predominate in the list of nominators. In the year of the centenary of the race no less than eighty-four of the horses nominated had been entered by princes and peers, one of the number standing in the name of the nobleman who in that year had been appointed Lord High Commissioner to the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland. Upwards of a century ago the race was won by the then Prince of Wales; but before that day, and often since, the luck of the lords and other titled gentlemen in gaining Derby honours has been conspicuous. From 1787, when Lord Derby won with Sir Peter Teazle, the race fell in eleven consecutive years to titled gentlemen, and from 1801 there came another series of eleven years in which titled owners came to the front; whilst ever since, the dukes, lords, and baronets have had a fair share of the honours of both the Derby and the Oaks. On thirty-two occasions the Blue Ribbon has fallen to a duke.

Although "nomination" to run in the race requires to be made when the animals are yearlings—long before it can be known whether or not they will be able to compete with advantage to their owners—large numbers of horses are annually entered for it. At one time the value of a race-horse was greatly increased by its being entered for the Derby; so much so, indeed, that breeders and other owners would frequently enter as many as half-a-dozen animals, in the hope that one of them might win. Now, however, so many more richly endowed races are run in the course of the year that in time the Derby may come to be less cared about by owners of blood stock. Races are at present run of the value of £10,000, which largely exceeds the value of the Derby stake. Gentlemen go to great expense in the purchase of yearlings which they think likely to shape into winners of the classic races. One nobleman is known to have expended many thousand pounds in the course of his life in the hope of being at last placed in possession of a horse good enough to prove victorious. On some occasions the Blue Ribbon has been won by animals that cost a comparatively small sum, and several gentlemen have taken the prize by aid of a horse bred by themselves. Again, animals which have won have been sold at a very high figure; two of these may be named—Blair Athol, which once changed hands for £10,000; and Doncaster, which was said to have been sold for £14,000.

Jockeys, we believe, still look upon the winning of a Derby as being the highest honour they can attain, although they sometimes earn more money by winning a good handicap on which there is heavy betting. Large sums are reputed to have occasionally been paid to the rider of a Derby winner—over £5,000 on one occasion, that being the amount of the stakes won by one of Sir Joseph Hawley's horses, and given by that gentleman to its rider. A thousand pounds for riding a Derby winner has come to be looked upon as quite a common fee; but in the earlier days of the great Epsom event no such figures were heard of, and upon one occasion, when a boy was paid £20 by the greatly gratified owner of a Derby winner, the circumstance was remarked upon as being without precedent, and an act of munificence. The big sums paid of late may be said to be in the nature of insurance, as jockeys before now have been known to be offered large sums not to win, and it has been said that such bribes have oftener than once proved effective.

The "superb groan" of Lord George Bentinck has become historical. Lord George, whose chief ambition as a sportsman was to win a Derby, had parted with his stud of horses in order that he might devote his whole attention to politics, and among the animals disposed of was Surplice, winner of the Derby of 1848. As may be supposed, the noble lord was deeply chagrined to find that he had parted with a horse that won a trophy of which he had long been in search. On the day after the race, Lord Beaconsfield tells us that he found Lord George in the library of the House of Commons with a book in his hand, but "looking disturbed." His resolutions in favour of the colonial interest, after all his labours, had been negatived by the committee on the 22nd, and on the 24th his horse, Surplice, which he had parted with among the rest of his stud solely that he might pursue, without distraction, his work on behalf of the great interests of the country, had won that paramount and Olympian stake to gain which had been the object of his life. He had nothing to console him and nothing to sustain him, except his pride. Even that deserted him before a heart which he knew at least would yield him sympathy. He gave a sort of superb groan: "All my life I have been trying for this, and for what have I sacrificed it?" he murmured. It was in vain to offer solace. "You do not know what the Derby is," he moaned out. "Yes, I do, it is the Blue Ribbon of the Turf."

In London Derby Day is in many respects a holiday; thousands of even the most industrious men of business journey to Epsom to obtain a peep at the chief event of the racing year. Even the House of Commons either contrives to adjourn expressly for the day, or so manages that it is not sitting on that particular occasion.