There is a story relating to the life of Crockford, or rather to his death, which has been so often told that it has come to be accepted as true. I have never myself, however, given credence to it, inquiry having satisfied me that the narrative is simply in the nature of a fable; but for all that it is worth repeating as being in some degree illustrative of the more "hectic" features of sport as it was carried on fifty or sixty years ago.
As all versed in our racing records already know, the race for the Oaks in the year 1844 was won by Princess, an animal which had been very heavily backed by William Crockford, bothon his own account and for the benefit of a band of followers who "stood in" with him; but as on the previous night the mighty gambler was seized with an attack of paralysis which resulted in his sudden demise, there was consternation among the clique. It being an understood law of the turf that death cancels all bets, those interested in the victory of Princess (should the filly win) saw at once they would lose their money, unless by the adoption of a stratagem of some kind they could avert that misfortune; the cry among them, therefore, was, "What can we do to get our money?" As the sum at issue was rather a large one, it was resolved that an effort should be made to obtain it, and the gruesome plan was hit upon of exhibiting the dead man in his habit as he lived at one of the windows of his club. Only two or three persons knew of Crockford's death, and as they were interested in the Princess affair, they might be depended on to hold their tongues. It was therefore arranged that the sportsmen, as they returned from Epsom, should be shown the corpse; and, by various little stratagems, be made to believe the man was alive.
The matter was managed in the following way: persons were sent to Epsom to see the race, and note the result; the moment the winning-post was reached by the winner, they were told at once to despatch pigeons with the fateful news; the confederates were also instructed to say, to all whom they spoke to, that Mr. Crockford was waiting anxiously at the club, in the hope of hearing that Princess had proved victorious. In due time the anxiously expected bird arrived at its loft, the despatch it carried bore only the brieflegend "Princess." So far all had gone as well as could be wished: the right horse had won the race. Then came the second part of the ghastly drama. The corpse, dressed in the clothes which the living body wore, being placed on a chair in front of the window, was made, by various arts, to look as life-like as possible; and many of the gentlemen as they passed on their coaches saw the old man quite plainly, and looking, as some of them said, "rather lively."
In beginning this brief sketch by recording the death of Crockford, it may be said I have begun at the wrong end of my story; but as I do not aim at making a story, it is not of great consequence how what I have to say about that once notorious person is arranged. The prosperous "hell-keeper" died in the sixty-ninth year of his age; his birth having taken place in 1775, five years before the first race for the Derby took place. As a child he might have witnessed the beginning of that great series of turf events, with some of which in after years it was his fate to be connected. Not very much is known regarding the early life of Crockford, nor in what year he saw his first Derby. In the days of his youth he had been a fishmonger, and was well versed in the ways of London's great piscatorial bourse, where at one time he was known as a successful trader.
Like many of his fellows at "the gate," Crockford acquired that taste for gambling which, like the ancient and fish-like smell that dominates Lower Thames Street, has long been a characteristic of the locality, and fortune is reported to have favoured him in his little ventures from thebeginning. In his business most of his deals proved successful, as he was possessed of the happy knack of knowing what to do and the right time to do it. Finding out what kind of fish were likely to prove scarce, he used to buy up all that came to hand, and then by dealing them out to other buyers, secure a good profit without much trouble. Twenty years ago there were men in Billingsgate who had known Crockford. One of the number was a porter who used to carry fish to a shop he had taken close to Temple Bar, and was paid with a liberal hand as being an old friend, and always with forcible injunctions not to spend the money in beer or gin. This person had many stories to tell about his "old pal," as he designated Crockford, both as to his doings at "the gate" and after he became more celebrated or, as may be said, more notorious. The following is one of them: a Billingsgate salesman with whom Crockford had often done business fell into misfortune, having become security for the sum of a thousand pounds on behalf of a near relative of his wife. One morning he found himself called on to pay, but unfortunately, with several bad debts of magnitude in his books, he had no alternative but to cry peccavi; to crown the poor man's distress, as one of his children lay on her death-bed, his furniture was seized, and, but for Crockford, would have been sold. He it was who came to the rescue, and brought comfort to the parents in their day of misfortune; he purchased not only the furniture, but the lease of the man's house as well, paid the funeral expenses of the child also; and after doing all that, lent the salesman a couple ofhundred to be going on with, and was never the man to say he had done it. Many other good actions of a similar kind might, were the details known, be placed to the credit side of Crockford's account.
There is no doubt that Crockford did many kind acts in his day which never could be chronicled, because none but he knew of them. When a boy I was taken once or twice to see "Crockford's," and on many occasions I heard of his doings. He had one virtue—"for days and days," I was told, "he never drank liquor stronger than water." Abstinence from intoxicants was one of the aids by which he made the half-million with which at one time he might have retired into private life, and been free of gambling evermore.
There is, I think, as much gambling of all kinds to-day as there was during the days of the great hell in St. James's Street. There is this difference, however: we hear less about it, even though we have ten times the number of newspapers telling us of our sins. To-day gambling goes on everywhere. There may be no hells in London at the present time to compare in splendour and luxury with that kept by William Crockford, but there is hardly a club in the mighty town in which speculation of some kind is not constantly carried on. As for betting on horse-racing, ten times more money, much of it, however, in small amounts, now changes hands over a big race than changed hands sixty years since.
Summing up the situation as between then and now, the case may be thus stated: in the daysof Crockford there might perhaps be a thousand persons each betting or gambling their occasional thousand or two in the course of the season, but at the present time, as has been already said, there will not be fewer in the United Kingdom than half a million persons, each betting or gambling to the tune of from half-a-sovereign to five pounds per diem. These figures do not include, at either period, the score of big speculators who know no bounds to their ventures, and are only given by way of illustration; nor do they include the greatest gamble of all—that which takes place on the Stock Exchanges of the kingdom, where, speaking in figurative language, tens of thousands of pounds are passed every hour of the day from account to account all the year round.
Crockford soon learned the art, and began the business of gambling. The times favoured him. Gambling in his time—that is, gambling by means of cards, dice, and more elaborate machinery—was more of an open practice than it is now. A number of small, or, as they were called, "silver" hells were in existence in those days, where persons could risk shillings or half-crowns, and to one or other of these the young fishmonger was a constant visitor after he had closed his shop. He became in time a painstaking speculator, and soon began to make money in steady fashion whilst others were losing it. As a contemporary remarked, "he was lucky from the first; whatever he tried turned up trumps." Along with a partner picked up in a gambling-house—he was a clever person, who seemed to be always fortunate in his dealings—Crockford made hisdébuton the turfwith a roulette-table constructed after a somewhat rude fashion; it was, in fact, a revolving handle fixed on a board, which at the end of each revolution pointed to one or other of several figures painted on a piece of white cloth, by means of which winnings were determined. Many similar tables were to be found on the racecourses of the period. At Ascot, Epsom, and Doncaster tents were at one time fitted up in which gambling was carried on all day long; and there was no concealment, the frequenters of the racecourse being openly invited to "walk in; roulette," or "walk in; hazard," as might happen. Cards with addresses upon them were also distributed at race meetings, so that those inclined to try their fortunes might know where they could tempt the fickle goddess. To many, attendance at a race meeting was simply—about the time referred to—an excuse for a gambling bout, which nearly always resulted in favour of those who kept the bank.
The methods of gambling in the days of Crockford were ruthlessly exposed during the trial of the well-known case of Smithv.Bond, then a well-known partner in one of the superior London hells. At the time indicated (1820 to 1845), the parishes of St. George's and St. James' swarmed with gambling-houses, where large or small sums of money could nightly be gained or lost, as might happen, and the play at the majority of such houses was well known to fall out largely against the players, as by many well-planned devices the bankers had points in their favour. The Bonds, who had named their place the Junior St. James'Club, waxed wealthy and fat over the game which was oftenest played there, namely, French hazard. In the course of the trial much interesting information was elicited as to the gambling practices which then prevailed; in the end a heavy verdict was returned against the defenders and in favour of the men who had the courage to sue them. The amount given by the jury was £3,508, being treble the sum which Smith had lost. If it had pleased some of the noblemen and gentlemen who gave evidence to play the part of plaintiff, the amount of the verdict might easily have been quintupled, so high and extensive did play run in the house of the Bonds—"a place of bondage," as one of the counsel wittily described it as being.
Coming back to the doings of my hero, it has to be stated with regard to Crockford that, although at one period he was in possession of a stud of race-horses, among the lot being Sultan, which made some mark on the turf, he never took a great amount of interest in the noble animal, preferring to regard it, like many other men, as an instrument of gambling; but the owner of the St. James' gambling-house was well versed in turf chicanery of all kinds, and knew in his day most of the prominent spirits of the racing world. The year in which Crockford saw his first Derby is not known, but in the course of his lifetime it is said he saw the race run on thirty-five consecutive occasions. Whether that be correct or not, it is certain that the Derby was a race in which he evinced great interest, and he was reputed to have landed more than one large stake on the winner of the Blue Ribbon.One year Crockford was the owner of a Derby favourite in Ratan, a horse which had made its mark as a two-year-old. Although the horse was very carefully watched, seeing that its owner had backed it to win an enormous sum of money, it was "got at," and it is supposed poisoned by means of arsenic introduced into its drinking trough.
Crockford started a house at Newmarket, which became an agreeable resort to those visitors to whom he offered hospitality, and he was no niggard in dispensing the good things of life at his table. Nor did he invite persons to his house so that, when heated with liquor, he might rob them at cards or dice. Crockford was then a betting man and bookmaker, laying or backing as he thought best for his own interest; and his visitors, to use a slang phrase, were "as fly as he was." They were not all spiders who walked into his Newmarket parlour, his visitors were known to have, on many occasions, their pockets well stuffed with crisp Bank of England notes. Another feature of Crockford's behaviour helped him to connection and wealth; when he lost he never required to be asked for money, he was a prompt payer; nor did he, when he was reputed to be rolling in wealth, ever forget himself, he was invariably polite and courteous. The devil, indeed, never was so black as he has been painted, and Crockford, gambler though he was, was not the fiend that some writers described him as being. As well as being a betting man and the keeper of a hell, Crockford was also a keen operator on the Stock Exchange; but on that stage of speculation he generally came to grief,and much of the cash made in St. James's Street was paid away to the stockbrokers. Another branch of turf business which Crockford conducted at one time was that of "squaring" the books of smaller betting men than himself; he could always be relied upon, even at the last moment—that is, immediately before a race—to lay the odds against such horses as a bookmaker was "bad" against, and required therefore to back back again, so as not to run greater risk than was compatible with an honest desire to meet engagements, and pay what was seen to be due after the race was determined.
The palatial gaming club erected by Crockford was at one time looked upon as one of the wonders of London; two or three houses had been knocked down to provide a site for it, and no expense was spared to render it commodious and luxurious, and make it attractive to visitors, who were waited upon by footmen in gorgeous liveries, and had their palates tickled by the gastronomic delicacies of Monsieur Ude. There were over eight hundred members, and the house was placed under the management of a committee, to whom Crockford conceded all they asked. Gambling, as a matter of course, was the business or recreation of all who came to the place; figuratively speaking, the rattle of the dice was heard morning, noon, and night, thousands of pounds changing hands as if they were so many halfpence. "Crockford's" cost an enormous sum of money; the building of it, I have been told, was carried on regardless of expense by night as well as by day. All its appointments were sumptuous, the cellars were filled with the finest of wines, and theculinary arrangements were for months the talk of the town.
Much capital has from time to time been drawn by philanthropic gentlemen out of what took place at "Crockford's," when the amounts at stake were practically unlimited, a bank of £10,000 being put down every evening at about eleven o'clock, the chief game of the house being French hazard. Play of some kind was always, however, going forward in every room of the large establishment, which was lit by hundreds of wax candles all night long. Sad pictures have been painted of the ruin that overtook men in the St. James' club-house; but many of these men who went there were simply fools who brought on their own fate, and who, had they not been ruined at Crockford's, would have been ruined in some other hell. There were plenty of such places, and although public gambling-houses are now not tolerated, it is quite certain that card-playing goes on nightly in all the clubs in London, and that in several of them large sums of money are lost and won. Crockford was not in any degree worse than his neighbours, and no one has ventured to say that undue advantage of any kind was ever taken of the persons who frequented his house by the proprietor or his servants. It should be kept in mind as well that visitors to Crockford's went there to try and obtain his money, and if in doing so they lost their own, they scarcely require to be sympathised with.
It is not my intention to defend gambling, or to become the apologist of Crockford, but such matters should be looked straight in the face,because, if there be sin in the matter, it is unfortunately of universal occurrence and among all classes of society; but surely it is not more sinful to stake one's sovereign on the turning up of a particular card than it is to do so on the rise or fall of the stock of a particular railway, or the loan bonds of some foreign country.
"The turf is so beset with knaves that when you go racing you are robbed when you least expect to be robbed, and that too by men whom you would least expect to rob you."
So wrote a racing commentator sixty years since, and the same sentence might be written to-day, with a still greater chance of hitting the nail on its head. When, half a century ago, some isolated case of turf fraud of a high degree of enormity became public, a prodigious outcry was raised regarding the circumstance—as would doubtless be done to-day—by a section of turfites, much indignation being usually expressed, especially by those not "in the swim"; but to-day racing rogueries are too numerous, too varied, too much a matter of course to attract much attention, and for this among other reasons, namely, that "they all do it." It may well be said as regards the turf and its surroundings, "Let him who is among you without sin cast the first stone."
Happily, there almost never falls nowadays to be chronicled any vulgar or pronounced frauds—these seldom become public. He would prove himself but a poor hand in turf chicanery whowould so act as to be "found out," who would venture, for instance, to instruct a jockey to "pull" his horse, when the animal could be so "doctored" before leaving the stable as to render its chance hopeless. As a general rule, a pailful of water will "do the trick," although, as a once popular trainer, now deceased, was heard to say at Newcastle-on-Tyne, "sometimes even two pails won't stop the beggars from winning." At all events, when it has been determined by interested parties that a horse shall run to lose a race it has been entered for—and such arrangements are common enough—nothing is easier than to make sure that it shall do so, and that the horse selected, in the event of the public fancying him, shall be made a market horse, and be "milked" for the benefit of those interested: the losing of a race may at any time be ensured, and there are scores of "turf dairymen" who are reputed adepts in the use of the milking pail.
There is no other business, perhaps, which offers so many opportunities for successful fraud as horse-racing, and that for the best of all reasons: the chicanery that is prevalent does not render those who practise it amenable to the criminal law, turf crimes being without the pale of legal action. When, therefore, the owner of a horse, looking ahead, conspires with a bookmaker or other confederate to deceive the public by entering an animal for a race which it is not intended the horse shall win, it is not the interest of either to say a word to outsiders about the arrangement, while those whose bad fortune it is to be deceived are without legal remedy. Persons foolish enough to make bets in the hope that a given horse maywin a given event must suffer the consequences if the animal has been all along a market horse: bettors in such a case have only themselves to blame for getting on a "wrong one." Happily, no one can be compelled to bet, and if those who do so miss the mark, one person has cause to rejoice—he is the bookmaker.
These gentlemen (the bookmakers), especially those of them engaged in extensive ways of business, are, it has been often affirmed, but such statements must be accepted with reserve, able to manage any kind of turf chicanery—money on the turf, as everywhere else, being pretty well omnipotent; and therefore, it has been said, should one of the fraternity find he is likely to lose £10,000 by the victory of a particular animal in a given race, he thinks it well worth his while (and no sin) to part with a few hundred pounds to have the animal made safe, an operation that, as has been hinted, can be achieved in various ways. Such turf rogueries are more frequent than is supposed by the general public. Many a race that, before being run, was deemed a certainty for a particular animal, has resulted in a surprise that would not have proved so had the truth been made manifest by a recital of its private history. At one time it was no unusual circumstance for an animal which had become favourite for a particular race to be prevented from winning by violent means. It was what is called "nobbled" or "got at" by some person hired for the purpose, or it might be lamed by the farrier, or perhaps poisoned by a stable attendant, or in other ways renderedhors de combat, to the deep chagrin in many instances of owner and trainer.
Such modes of dealing with race-horses are now seldom resorted to, but frauds of a more subtle kind are common enough. "Nobbling" of a rude description is a very dangerous game, which requires confederates to ensure a successful issue; and a first-rate training stable is usually subjected to such careful watching, especially when it contains a horse of celebrity, that strangers as a rule cannot obtain access to it, and for a stableman to betray his trust is dangerous—ruin would assuredly follow the discovery of such a breach of confidence. But, as an old-time hanger-on of one of the Newmarket hotels was wont to say, "it's all along o' the money; them tenners and fivers is at the bottom of all them there swindles; there's men about here as would kill a hoss right out for a couple o' ponies."
The magnitude of the sums betted against particular horses gives rise to temptation. Certain bookmakers will lay from ten to twenty-five, or even forty thousand pounds upon occasion, against each of half-a-dozen horses entered to run in an important handicap, and if the one or two of these animals which appear most likely to win the race can—if they have been well backed—in some way be rendered unfit to run, so much the better for those who have laid the odds. Under such circumstances, a horse has sometimes been bought on behalf of a bookmaker and his confederates, so that its losing the race may be made certain. Backers, unaware of the sale, continue to "fancy" it, till the transaction becomes profitable to the purchaser, who keeps the animal well to the front in the market, and continues personally, and by the aid of confederates, to bet heavilyagainst its chance. Such transactions often prove excellent bargains. For a bookmaker, or clique of bookmakers, to purchase for a thousand or even sixteen hundred pounds a horse, against the chance of which to win they may have betted as many thousands, is good business; true, that particular animal might not have proved the winner, but, being dangerous, his removal out of the way if possible was deemed prudent. Some may say that the bookmaker having laid against all or most of the other horses in the race, he will have plenty of money to clear his liabilities, no matter which animal may win; but bookmakers, being prudent men, like to make matters as certain as possible. Men are known who have had a finger in such pies; names cannot, however, be mentioned here, and there are persons engaged in laying the odds who would not individually do a very dirty action, but even the most respectable bookmakers make no bones about laying a "stiff one."
In such transactions as have been indicated, thebitersare sometimesbit. A few years since a clever school of these men agreed to purchase, for £2,000, a horse which had become a prodigious favourite for one of the chief handicaps. It was reputed to have won a good trial, in which it had beaten its stable companions "to blazes," and was being backed every day at lessening odds. About eight days before the race it was quoted at 100 to 12, and seemed as if it would be a dangerous horse.Negotiations for its purchase were entered into by an agent of the syndicate—and terms being agreed upon, the horse was quietly transferred to another stable—the dealers having forgotten, in their anxiety to conclude the business, that the vendor of the animal had another and, as it proved, a better horse entered for the same race, quite capable of winning it! As it came out in the sequel, the gentleman had backed his "lot" to win a considerable sum, whilst a confederate had taken some "long shots" about the other one, so that the seller had all the best of the deal, the horse purchased by the bookmakers proving in the end worthless. In reality the owner was delighted to sellnumber one, because he had planned to win the race if he could withnumber two, and that being so, he began business by backing his "lot."
Instances of another kind of deal might be cited. On one occasion a man who had been so clever as to back a horse to win him £12,000 before its owner had backed it for a single sovereign, had the alternatives placed before him of seeing the animal "scratched," or of buying it, or of allowing his owner to share his bet. He preferred to purchase, but before the day of the race the horse had gone off its feed, and when called upon to make an effort was easily beaten.
Many good and honestly trained horses unexpectedly suffer defeat, a result which on some occasions is difficult to account for. When such an event takes place, "would-be wise persons" shake their heads in the "I told you so" style, and hint at foul play. It frequently happens, however, that horses which run well at home areunable from some cause or other to make a successful effort on a racecourse. Horses, like human beings, it may be taken for granted, are not always "i' the vein," and so owners and trainers who calculate on success are often much puzzled by results which they had not the prescience to anticipate. Many an animal good enough to win a race by twenty lengths has suffered defeat almost at the outset of the struggle. In such cases trainers have evil times of it: should the horse run up to the anticipation founded on the trial, it is spoken of as a great animal; should it lose, the trainer may be looked upon with suspicion or the jockey be blamed for losing the race.
"The chicanery of the turf," it has often been said, "is boundless," but what is done is being accomplished in a manner so refined, and at the same time is so quietly done, that the outside public have no chance of detecting it. Nor does anything accomplished in the way of "polite fraud" call for the interference of the police; betting is without the pale of ordinary law, so that all concerned carry on the game with immunity from consequences. When what is called "a great handicapcoup" is achieved, it usually happens that a greater number of persons will be found to have backed the losers than the winner, because it does not suit those who are "working the oracle" to allow the real merits of the horse they have planned to win with to become known to all and sundry, for the very excellent reason that in such a case it would come to a short price in the betting, which would be altogether foreign to the plans of those working the scheme. Onthe other hand, it is desirable that as many of the horses in the race should be heavily backed at a short price as is possible, so that the bookmakers shall have no scarcity of money with which to pay the sums they have laid against the winner. As a general rule, in all great handicapcoups, it is usual for one or two bookmakers to be in what is called "the swim," and these are generally selected because of their prudence; bookmakers do not, as a rule, wear their hearts on their sleeves.
The planning and working of a handicapcoup, by which a sum of from twenty to forty thousand pounds may be netted by a clever clique of racing experts, may be figuratively described.
The first thing to be observed is that such a matter cannot be organised in a week or even in a month. The long-headed turf expert who strikes for fortune at a blow will probably have been at work upon his scheme for perhaps twelve or eighteen months, or more likely for double that length of time. He will have commenced proceedings perhaps by purchasing, for what is called "an old song," some supposed broken-down and worthless horse, which, however, as his practised eye has discovered, might, if treated with care and properly trained, win a race or two. For a time nothing is heard of the purchase: Conspirator is not entered for any of the passing handicaps and becomes almost forgotten, although, when a two-year-old, it was more than once prophesied that it was a horse likely to be heard of as the winner of some big event. In thecourse of four or five months it will be announced in the training reports that "Sweatmore, the trainer, took his horses to the North-East Division of the Southside Downs, where Petty Larceny, Burglar, Area Sneak, Impostor, and Conspirator did good work." That announcement indicates the beginning of the end, and by-and-by Conspirator is entered for one or two petty races in which he is supposed to make a fair struggle for victory, carrying a tolerably liberal weight, but particular care is taken by his trainer that he shall not attract much attention. In due time the horse makes his appearance in a struggle of importance, in which he is weighted more favourably than was expected; but for all that, his time has not yet come—the astute gentleman who pulls the strings in the stable can wait a long time should he think a victory can be won in the end. Nothing is ever gained in horse-racing by being in a great hurry, and the horse hitherto has been entered simply to find out the handicappers' estimate of him.
"Seven stone five; not bad that for a five-year-old which three years ago was thought to have the makings of a fair horse about him," says the trainer; "but we must get him in at less than that by at least half a stone."
Just so. Nothing, it has been said, is denied to persons who knowhowto wait. "Conspirator ran very badly," is the verdict of the turf critic, "never once giving his supporters a ray of hope, although evidently backed to win a considerable sum of money; it is not easy to understand why such a horse is in training."
For the next two races in which he is enteredConspirator does not accept, although in one of them he has only the nice weight of 6 st. 10 lb. to carry.
"He could win with that," says his trainer; "but with two or three pounds less it would be real jam."
"All right," replies the man who is working the oracle; "we must send him to run for the Great Jericho Stakes in August, and get him well beaten; in the meantime he has been entered for the Haymarket Handicap, the weights for which come out two days after the Jericho race has been decided, and then we can determine what to do, eh?"
The Haymarket Handicap being a first-rate betting race, the publication of the weights is eagerly expected by Mr. Saltem, who is acting manager of this little play; and so, on the afternoon of the calendar day, when old Bob Girths, a waif of the turf, comes rushing into a tavern in St. Martin's Lane with a copy of the weights, a half-sovereign, and a quartern of gin besides, is cheerfully bestowed on him by Mr. Saltem. In a moment, by a glance at the sheet, that gentleman has comprehended the situation—"Conspirator, 6 st. 5 lb., glorious!" he exclaimssotto voce; "daren't have given him less myself."
A wire in key is at once sent off to Sweatmore, the trainer, and then the acceptances, which are not due till the following Tuesday, are impatiently waited for, and when obtained, eagerly scanned. Fifty-nine out of the ninety-two entered remain in the handicap, Beef Eater is top weight, and so the original imposts assigned remain unaltered.
A good deal of betting on the "H.H.," as it was called by the turfites, had taken place, both previous to the entries and while waiting for the acceptances, and it was known that an occasional 1,000 to 10, and three or four times 1,000 to 16 had been picked up by some "mugs" about Conspirator, but the so-called "mugs" were men who had been inspired by Saltem. No great move, however, was made by that astute person till the acceptances were declared, and he had seen with whom he had to do battle.
Burglar, a six-year-old, with 7 st. 4 lb. to carry, who won the rich Covent Garden Cup two years previously and is in the same interest as Conspirator, is made favourite as soon as the active work of betting begins, whilst Conspirator is quoted at 40 to 1 offered.
"Just the thing for us," is the opinion of Saltem, "and now for the commission."
Sweatmore runs up from the stable to hold a conference with Saltem. In his opinion they have only one horse to fear, and that horse is Diddle-em, an animal not unknown to fame, a five-year-old, weighted at 7 st. "Well, it belongs on the quiet to Job Goodchild, the bookmaker, Diddle-em does," says Saltem, "and we can easily square Job, I think, by letting him in the swim."
So they agree to do so, and Goodchild being let into the swim, a plan of operation is at once arranged for getting on the money.
First of all, by means of a little newspaper strategy, Burglar is made a "great pot," as it is called, for the handicap; "that horse," says one of the sporting prints, "has cleaned out the stable with the greatest ease, and if he can beatDiddle-em he has the 'H.H.' at his mercy." Then comes the corollary,videthe market reports: "Burglar 100 to 8 taken freely; Diddle-em 14 to 1 taken and offered; The Beak 16 to 1; The Artful Dodger 20 to 1 offered; Conspirator 33 to 1 offered, forties wanted."
Such is the state of the odds, when one afternoon at the King's Club, "I'll lay 1,000 to 20 or any part of it against Conspirator," is shouted, but no one responds; and as all over the country the horse is on offer at these odds, a favourable opportunity is presented for working the commission, 50 to 1 being esteemed a nice price.
At first a very little only is done in a narrow field; by-and-by, however, operations are extended, and on a given day the whole country isworked—Manchester, Dublin, Liverpool, Edinburgh, Glasgow; every town, in short, where a few ten-pound notes can be got on is communicated with through the agents of Job Goodchild, and before the majority of the bookmakers awake to the fact a heavy commission has been executed, and the party stand to win, some thirteen days before the race, a rough sum of over £45,000! On the Saturday previous to the Wednesday on which the race falls to be run, a second trial takes place, Diddle-em is borrowed, as well as another horse which had recently won a biggish handicap; Burglar also takes part in the trial. It is a near thing, as some would have thought had they seen it. Conspirator seeming to have quite enough to do to beat Diddle-em; but then, as Conspirator was carrying an additional 10 lb. of weight, it really was, as Sweatmore said, a case of "real jam."
"There's nought else in the race, as I'm a living sinner," said the trainer; "he'll win easy, see if he doesn't."
And so in the end it proves. "Conspirator jumped off with the lead, made all his own running, and before he had covered a mile had all the others beaten," so wrote one of the journalists who chronicled the race ("won by three lengths," was the verdict of the judge); brother to Agrippa, second; Virginia, third; Burglar broke down, and Diddle-em walked in with the crowd. Sixteen ran.
So ended this well-plannedcoup.
That is one way of "working the oracle" in order to bring off a remunerative handicapcoup, and many lords and gentlemen of the turf do not disdain to follow so good (or bad) an example. If, for instance. Sir Richard Strongman, Lord Strapmore, and the Honourable Thomas Rowbotham have each entered three or four of their horses in an important handicap, what is more natural, on the turf, than that they should lay their heads together to "best" the public, and pull off a good thing at long odds for themselves? The obtaining of "long odds" has a great fascination for everybody. To win a large sum at little risk is a grand desideratum in the racing world as elsewhere. It is difficult nowadays, however, to obtain what are called long odds. Bookmakers are chary on this point, and the public, who keep no horses of their own but are quick to back the horses of other people, rush in when the bettingbegins on any particular race and secure the cream, leaving the skimmed milk to those who have to pay the training bills.
In order, then, to do the best they can for themselves, the three gentlemen named above resolve to call to their aid a well-known turf commissioner, one Mr. Dudley Smooth. That gentleman, who is the hero of a hundred "arrangements," takes the case in hand. He is well known on the turf and hates verbosity, but he thinks a great deal, if he says little; his leading idea is, "Only one can win, you know; how to get at it is the problem."
What usually takes place when Mr. Smooth has been prevailed upon to put a finger in the pie—he is, however, rather chary of doing so—is first of all a consultation over a chop and a bottle—champagne, of course. The number of stables represented in the handicap and the horses entered are considered, and those known or thought to have no chance are summarily scored out of the list. Each trainer and owner of the stables containing likely horses are well weighed up, considered, and intelligently discussed, after which it will probably be found that, leaving out the owners present and half-a-dozen others they will be able to influence, four stables would be seen to have a really good chance, whilst other three might possess something decidedly dangerous.
"What we want, you know, Smooth, is a certainty."
"Quite so, Sir Richard; and as only one, you know, can win, the thing is to discover it."
What was generally resolved upon to begin with was, that each of those present should, amonth before the race, find out by means of a formal trial his best horse for the handicap at the published weights; next, that in a couple of days thereafter the three should be tried together along with the best public horse they were able to buy or borrow to take part in the trial at a weight agreed upon.
Smooth, to make sure, invariably superintended such trials himself, and, being an adept at the business, he could generally foretell the result as it would be in the race itself to a hair's breadth. Then he had the "form," as it is called, of such of the other horses as might compete at his finger ends, or rather, to express it literally, on his tongue. Smooth's verdict on the trial was anxiously listened to: "It will do; only one can win the race, and I think it will be Pretty Jane; she will be about half a stone better than Magician on the day." Then followed an interesting conversation, in which it was shown by Smooth that, on public form, there were in addition to the two which had just finished such a fine gallop, other three, if not four, that might prove dangerous. One of these, Smooth knew, could be made safe, and if the owners of the others would swim in with Pretty Jane, all would come right; they could then go in for a big thing, and very likely bring it off.
The effort is made.
Smooth's philosophy illustrated in his constant iteration of "only one can win, you know," ultimately prevails, and the three most dangerous animals in the race are made safe, although two of the owners insist on rather stiff terms.N'importe,the handicap can be won, and plenty of money along with it.
In the end its success is ensured, Pretty Jane beating Artful Dodger, a rod in pickle prepared by a quiet school of turfites for the same race, by only a head; "too near a thing to be pleasant," as Lord Strapmore said after the struggle was over, and the confederacy had obtained breathing time for a glass of champagne and mutual congratulations. Such schemes, it has to be said, are not always successful; but if a man can win a couple of big handicaps in twenty years, he requires nothing more in the way of turf success.
The kind of business indicated in the foregoing remarks is frequently attempted; there is a gentleman often at work, who is reputed to have a voice in four or five stables, and that being so he is able to prearrange, with considerable success, a good deal of the turf work of the period.
Few persons outside the pale of turf manipulation can possibly be aware of how much money it is possible to win over a big handicap or other good betting race—the Cesarewitch, Cambridgeshire, or Royal Hunt Cup, for example. Over and over again such sums as thirty, fifty, and even seventy thousand pounds have been "landed," as the phrase goes, by the winner of a great race. Sometimes a man is fortunate enough to find himself in possession of a horse entered for one of the popular handicaps that "cannot lose"; and if the ability of the animal be only known to himself and the trainer, he may be able, at the risk of a few hundreds, to back it to win many thousand pounds.
"Working the oracle," with intent to make a grandcoup, is work which requires to be gone about with judgment; but in a race where twenty or more stables are represented it is difficult to ensure success, there being always somebody interested whowillbe obstinate, or who demands too large a share of the spoil, or insists upon some impossible condition. When the Mr. Smooth of such an enterprise has made some progress in his negotiations, he often enough finds himself face to face with the representative of another clique engaged in the same business; it is not, indeed, the first time that three distinct syndicates have come into collision, each fancying itself to hold the winning card. Which is to give way to the other so as to make the race a certainty for a given horse comes in at the end to be a matter for much argument and delicate handling. At their respective weights it may look a very near thing for each of three or four horses, and as an owner naturally fancies his own horse most, he is usually reluctant to swim in with any other person or clique, unless he becomes of opinion that the doing so presents a certainty of the horse winning.
"In the matter of arranging a handicap," said a gentleman of much experience to the writer, "my arguments are simple enough. I put the case this way. By agreeing among ourselves we can land a first-rate stake, say sixty thousand; well, that is twenty thousand for each of us when so far as I can see we have a certainty. Is it not better, then, to co-operate? There will beother races, and a horse will keep. Why oppose each other when, by working as one man, we can land the sum I have named?"
It has occurred before now that a horse which has been, so to speak, left out in the cold on the occasion of an "arrangement," has ultimately proved the best animal. Such rehearsals as have been pictured used to be common, and still take place.
"What a splendid field there is!" said one gentleman to another, a year or two ago, as a start was being effected for the Haymarket Handicap.
"Yes," was the reply, "no less, I see, than fifteen. What a pity that three only of the lot are trying!"
Great blunders are sometimes made by men who have horses in handicaps. However good a horse may be, and however long the animal may have been kept with a view to a grandcoupit may be found when the weights are published that it is not given such a good chance as that supposed to be conferred on some other animal, the result being that the owner does not accept, and probably, to his great chagrin, finds his rival also among the non-contents, his rival having been imbued with similar fears. At other times a lot of horses do not accept because "something" has been "thrown in" at a feather weight which everybody thinks cannot possibly be beaten, although in the end that something runs nearly last, Ruperra to wit, in the Royal Hunt Cup of 1880. Many a time and oft a horse not believed to possess any merit wins an important race, and owners and trainers alike find again and again, touse the words of the Scottish poet, that "the best laid schemes of mice and men gang aft agley."
While perusing these remarks it should be kept in mind that there are not a few gentlemen on the turf who decline to take part in such schemes as have been indicated, but run their horses fair and square, so far as they can control them. Their trainers, however, may not always be quite so scrupulous. The "arrangements" referred to, it ought to be remembered, involve such an amount of chicanery, that the aid of one or two bookmakers must be called in, the doing so, of course, involving the making of certain concessions to these worthies. The knowledge thus acquired by such persons is at once used against the public, the betting public, who soon discover that their mission is to pay the piper. The main object of what is done in the way of planning and scheming is to secure, at the least possible risk, a large haul of money over a race, and, to accomplish this, all matters must be gone about with the utmost care and secrecy. To achieve such a consummation is the reason why not a few owners of horses place themselves entirely in the hands of some Dudley Smooth of the turf. The first advice given by such a person is, "Accept with your whole string of horses, we will need them all." As the business of arrangement progresses, each of the unintended animals is made in turn to benefit the bookmaker by being brought into the betting and quoted in "the market." The gullible public, unaware of what is being done, back all the horses in turn, so that those interested obtain a pretty good sum out of the "stiff ones," as they are called. When the public at length waken up tothe fact that a commission has been executed for a particular horse, they rush pell-mell to follow the lead, and in consequence the animal is speedily quoted at a price that will admit of splendid hedging, and in working a grandcoupit is generally deemed prudent to hedge.
Gentlemen who race from their love of sport, or for the honour of the turf, do not, as has been hinted, recognise such doings as it is the mission of Mr. Smooth to carry out. When they find, after a trial with some horse of their own or one borrowed from a friend, that they have no chance of winning the race for which the horse has been entered, they at once strike it out of that race—"scratch it" is the usual phrase employed—so that the public may not be induced to back it. On the other hand, there are owners who never scratch their horses unless they find their intention of backing them anticipated by the public. In such cases, finding they cannot back the animal at their own price, they teach indiscriminate backers a lesson by withdrawing it from the race. It has become a debatable point in the ethics of horse-racing whether the owner of a horse, having once entered it in a public race, should withdraw it from participation in that race from not being able to back it on his own terms, because of Tom, Dick, and Harry having been more active than he has been in dealing with the bookmakers, and so forestalling him in the market. There are certain horses in every race which the publicwillnot be withheld from backing; they are estimated on a review of their previous form to have such a fine chance, that no sooner is their weight for any given handicap made known, thanthe public are quick to take all the long shots, leaving the owner—what is left.
It is most provoking, no doubt, for the owner of a likely horse to find himself compelled to put up with the skimmed milk of the market, persons utterly unknown to him having secured the cream. No wonder the owner, on receiving such provocation, works himself into a passion; no wonder the fiat of "scratch my horse" is at once issued. What though the act be productive of something like a sensation? A notification that "the favourite is scratched" brings curses loud and deep on the head of its owner. But probably he has become callous to public opinion—his argument is: "The horse is mine own to do with whatever I please; I bought him; I pay for his corn and hay; I find the fees of the jockeys by whom he is ridden; I pay all travelling expenses and entry moneys, and therefore I shall do in the matter as I think proper."
These are strong arguments undoubtedly, and well put, but they all point in the direction of gambling. And that being so, there arises another side to the story, which may be placed before the reader in the following words. In reality it is the general public who provide the money which the bookmakers lay to owners of horses; as some owners never bet, whilst others bet only to small sums, it is evident, therefore, that without the aid of the crowns, half-sovereigns, and pounds of the small bettors it would be impossible for the bookmakers to deal in those large sums which gentlemen occasionally back their horses to win. Were only the value of the stake to be run for at issue,there would be no occasion for striking a horse out of the race at the eleventh hour, because of its owner being unable to back it. It is the large amount which can be won in bets that renders men so mercenary.
Speaking in a theoretical sense, it is undoubtedly more honourable for a man to strike his horse out of a race at once than to leave it among the competitors and arrange that it shall not win, which can always be made certain. The winning of a race even with the best horse in the world cannot be made sure, but to lose a race can be accomplished beyond a doubt, and there are evengentlemenon the turf—the more's the pity—who have not scrupled to lend themselves to such a fraud. It will be no exaggeration to say that during the course of the year two or three hundred horses will run to lose in the races that take place, and if only an average sum of £100 be got out of each—in some cases the result will be a gain of thousands—it totals up to a large amount.
Much of what is designated by turf critics the "in and out" running of handicap horses is no doubt due to such practices. One may often read in the sporting journals that "the running of Mr. So-and-So's horse was really too bad to be true; and we believe the animal will speedily see a better day;" which is just a roundabout way of saying the horse was "pulled," or that in some other way it was arranged the horse should not win the race. Such phrases of the sporting press are simply a way of veiling the fact of a fraud having been committed. Happily there are both owners andtrainers who are far above such practices, but that men are doing such deeds every day is certain.
Another phase of the chicanery of the turf may be now alluded to, arising from the mercenary spirit of certain greedy owners—it is the practice of an owner to take a big bet about one of his horses, and leave his "lot" in the hands of a bookmaker to "work" in the market as he pleases. The right of a man to wallop his own nigger has been asserted; in the same spirit there are men who, having accepted in a handicap or other race with four or five horses, claim to do with them as they please, and what this style of doing business leads to can be gathered from the preceding pages. The mode alluded to is a contemptible phase of turf action. In plain language, the owner so acting simply lends himself to a fraud, because the bookmaker, knowing that only the horse which he has laid against is intended to win, takes his measures accordingly, and manages so to bring the others before the public that they will all in turn be well backed by unthinking backers—the horse which is intended to win the race being kept, when possible, carefully in the background, stories about its condition being published which prevent its being noticed. The intended horse may of course be beaten, but the cunning of the transaction is in no way lessened by that fact. It remains that the owner, in conjunction with the bookmaker, tried to do "a bit of thieving," for which, in other circles,he would be written down a blackguard. On the turf, however, morals are not quite so severely measured.
Not a few men are unfortunately compelled to the exercise of such chicanery by the "force of circumstances." There are men now on the turf who, while they are nominally the owners of a stud of race-horses, are in reality slaves of bookmakers. They have at some meeting extended their arm too far, and have been unable in consequence to respond to the call of time. In other words, in expectation of some of the horses they had backed winning, they betted to a greater amount than they found themselves able to pay. In such an ignominious position they frequently become tools of the bookmakers, and run or do not run their horses as they are told by their master, who, although imperative enough in his demands, may be a pleasant fellow withal.
Bookmakers are fond of doing business with those they call "the swells." Although gentlemen may get into their books, and be due them considerable sums of money, there is always the chance of some day being paid, while they are able in the meantime to turn them and their misfortunes to good account. There are men now on the turf who, it is said, owe thousands of pounds to bookmakers, and even, it is said, to their jockeys.
To those to whom the turf and its surroundings are as a sealed book, such a statement may appear like an outrageous calumny; but it is true, nevertheless, there are dozens of "swells" at the present moment who are under the thumbs of the bookmakers. If the Honourable Tom Twinkletonhas a horse good enough to win the Derby, or the Royal Hunt Cup, or some other important race, big Brassy, the bookmaker, has no hesitation in laying freely against the "hon. gent's" colt, because Twinkleton dare not run unless Brassy please; and unless itsuitsBrassy that it should run and try, Brassy won't please, because the honourable but impecunious gentleman being due the bookmaker a couple of thousands, he cannot do as he pleases in the matter of running his horses under pain of cashing up or being exposed. No wonder, therefore, that Antelope, the Honourable Tom's horse, is so well beaten in its trial the week before the race that it is scratched—much to the consternation of its backers, it being second favourite at 9 to 2. But big Brassy is not ungenerous, he puts the Honourable Tom on the winner, and the honourable gent nominally wins a couple of monkeys (£1,000), one of which is paid to him, the other being placed to his credit. Your shrewd bookmaker likes to play with his fish, an "honourable" must be tenderly handled, because he has many friends; and it is to the interest of a "metallician" to keep sweet with young "swells" even although they are bad payers.
The "mercenaries of the turf," of whom there are many hundreds, owners and bettors, do almost anything to obtain money; they will practise all the tricks which have been described, as well as others of a still more questionable sort, they will submit to any degradation in order to earn a few hundred pounds. In conjunction with a dishonourable trainer they will permit their horses to win or lose false trials, or pull, or poison, orotherwise stupefy their horses, so that in some future race they may get their animals apportioned a weight far below what they ought to carry. To cheat the handicapper is thought to be fair game, to bring off "certainties" is a matter of weight; horses, therefore, are run with the view of getting off weight, and at this branch of their business some owners and trainers exercise great patience, and will wait year after year in order to pull off a good thing.
There are so-called "gentlemen" on the turf who will bribe a telegraph clerk in order to obtain news of a trial that may have been sent over the wires, or suborn a stableman of a popular stable in order to know what is doing in it; they will even connive with a bookmaker's assistant in order to get an inkling of his employer's commissions. Indeed, there are gentlemen now on the turf who do not scruple, when opportunity offers, to take advantage of their friends and daily companions by laying odds against horses which they know will not win, or have no chance to win even if they run; and there are "gentlemen" who lend themselves to bookmakers to do their commissions, who will either back or lay a horse at their bidding. These toadies of the bookmakers, and they are more numerous than is supposed, never question the morality of what they do, but do as they are bid to do, and ask no questions. These mercenaries have no scruples against being "put in" by the bookmakers to lay as much as they can against the chances of a horse which will not be wanted, or to obtain the longest possible odds against a horse which it is known will ultimately "come"in the market, which long,id est, liberal odds, the bookmaker might not obtain if he himself were to ask for them.
Bookmakers are somewhat fond of working their commissions by the aid of persons who are known as "mugs," that is, persons who are presumably greenhorns; but the mugs have to be frequently changed, as they are soon spotted by the shrewd persons they try to "have." No kind of dirty work is too bad for the mercenaries of the turf, some of whom if the reward were sufficiently tempting would think nothing of "nobbling" the finest animal that ever ran. So that he can make money out of his stud, the mercenary owner will either run or pull. No man knows better than he does that "losing a race can be made a certainty," and that in many instances larger sums of money can be made by keeping a horse in the stable than by running it on the racecourse.
The knavery of the turf is so ramified that it is very difficult to tell either where it begins or ends. The telegraphic wires, as all owners of race-horses, bookmakers, and bettors are aware, are now extensively used for the communication of turf information. In towns where there is a great deal of betting, and in consequence several bookmakers, receiving from half-a-dozen to twenty messages every day, denoting changes in the betting or other occurrences during the progress of a race meeting, the telegraph clerks have been known to be so tampered with that information of an important kind meant only for one person has been made public. It is said that in some of our large towns the telegraph clerks have becomedemoralised, and that many of them bet on the sly, making use of information which has been obtained in their official capacity, and which they ought not to divulge. Ingenious plans have been devised by these persons in order to utilise messages forwarded from one turfite to another, or from a "tout" to his employer.
Say that a message is sent from an agent in London to a bookmaker in Liverpool, that Judas, an acceptor, is being heavily backed for the Cesarewitch, and that from being at 50 to 1 the previous night he is now at 100 to 6; the clerk will delay the message on some pretence or other for ten or twelve minutes, so that a confederate may have time to visit one or two bookmakers and obtain the longer odds, well knowing that the effect of the message will be to make the horse named a prime favourite in the local betting, so that if 50 to 1 can be obtained, a profit may be made by retailing the bet at a third of the odds. That represents one mode of procedure; another plan of petty swindling which has often been tried with success is for the clerks of one town to get from those of another town the result of some important race with great rapidity, andknowingthe result, have matters so planned that a confederate will be able to back or lay against, as the case may be, the actual winner or some of the losing horses, with persons who think it too soon for the decision of the race to be known. The plan of working this kind of fraud is for a series of signals to be agreed upon in order to denote the winners and losers in a race. The confederate then proceeds to the Club or bookmakers' chamber, half an hour or twenty minutes before the timeset for the race, and talks over the chances of the various horses, asking the state of the odds, etc. By-and-by his "pal" arrives with the news, but he says nothing, he simply sits down, wiping his forehead or blowing his nose as the case may be. This is the signal agreed upon, and the confederate in a most nonchalant manner says: "Very well, then, Bill, I'll just have a couple of sovs. on Busybee for a win, and a couple on Clarion for a show." The bookmaker, knowing his client has never quitted the room, suspects nothing, but takes the money and enters the bet. In ten minutes afterwards the official message comes in: "Busybee, first; Mussulman, second; Clarion, third." Such practices, it is said, are common enough.
Turf chicanery finds a wide field in the executing of what are called "stable commissions," a fact which can be best illustrated by narrating a typical case.
Mr. Salisbury Moor, having been informed by his trainer that his horse, Fatcheeks, had won a very excellent trial for an important handicap, resolved in consequence, in conjunction with Bill Gaiters, his trainer, to back his animal to win the odds to £300; the odds against the horse (there being three in the same stable, each thought to have a better chance than Fatcheeks) being at the time nominally 66 to 1. Gripely—"Bill Gripely," a well-known and smart "man of affairs" in racing matters—was duly instructed to invest the money at the best price at which it could be got on. While that commission was beingexecuted, the business of the turf money market was not so open to the light of day as at present, so that a deal could be accomplished without much publicity. Bill Gripely, the commissioner alluded to, and his confederates, Warp and Woof, the bookmakers, were at once able to "tumble" to the situation, namely, that a great trial had been won, as Mr. Moor seldom put more than £20 on one of his horses. So thinking, the trio determined upon securing a very profitable slice of the pudding for themselves. Beginning business at once, the odds of 1,000 to 16 were obtained from four different sources, which bets were followed in due course by sundry others, till, in the end, a pretty considerable sum had been secured, probably not less than £30,000.
Of this handsome realisation of the commission it was not deemed necessary to return the owner more for his £300 than (in the circumstances) the paltry sum of £6,000. The owner of the horse, knowing full well that he had been victimised by Gripely and his coadjutors, resolved to punish the conspirators by striking his horse out of the race. He found, as he supposed, that his commissioners had determined to keep some £25,000 to dole out as the horse advanced in favouritism in the betting. The commission was begun on Monday, and on Thursday forenoon the result was intimated to Mr. Moor, who, as soon as he found out what had been done, struck his horse out of the race, much to the chagrin of the conspirators, who lost a few hundred pounds over the transaction.
Many similar stories might be related, but one serves to show this mode of chicanery aswell as a dozen. As a matter of fact, turf frauds of many kinds, but especially those kinds which entail no penal consequences, are plentiful enough even at the present time. Not many months ago, a sporting writer in alluding to a popular northern handicap wrote in the columns of his journal: "It is quite clear the way to victory is being cleared for the favourite. I question if more than nine horses will be found at the post, or if more than two of these will be trying.Faugh!How the dead ones do stink, to be sure."