The Derby
An attendance at the Newmarket Second Spring Meeting had
unfortunately not been compatible with the Silverbridge election.
Major Tifto had therefore been obliged to look after the affair
alone. "A very useful mare," as Tifto had been in the habit of
calling a leggy, thoroughbred, meagre-looking brute named Coalition,
was on this occasion confided to the Major's sole care and judgment.
But Coalition failed, as coalitions always do, and Tifto had to
report to his noble patron that they had not pulled off the event.
It had been a match for four hundred pounds, made indeed by Lord
Silverbridge, but made at the suggestion of Tifto;--and now Tifto
wrote in a very bad humour about it. It had been altogether his
Lordship's fault in submitting to carry two pounds more than Tifto
had thought to be fair and equitable. The match had been lost. Would
Lord Silverbridge be so good as to pay the money to Mr. Green Griffin
and debit him, Tifto, with the share of his loss?
We must acknowledge that the unpleasant tone of the Major's letter
was due quite as much to the ill-usage he had received in reference
to that journey to Silverbridge, as to the loss of the race. Within
that little body there was a high-mounting heart, and that heart had
been greatly wounded by his Lordship's treatment. Tifto had felt
himself to have been treated like a servant. Hardly an excuse had
even been made. He had been simply told that he was not wanted. He
was apt sometimes to tell himself that he knew on which side his
bread was buttered. But perhaps he hardly knew how best to keep
the butter going. There was a little pride about him which was
antagonistic to the best interests of such a trade as his. Perhaps it
was well that he should inwardly suffer when injured. But it could
not be well that he should declare to such men as Nidderdale, and
Dolly Longstaff, and Popplecourt that he didn't mean to put up with
that sort of thing. He certainly should not have spoken in this
strain before Tregear. Of all men living he hated and feared him
the most. And he knew that no other man loved Silverbridge as did
Tregear. Had he been thinking of his bread-and-butter, instead
of giving way to the mighty anger of his little bosom, he would
have hardly declared openly at the club that he would let Lord
Silverbridge know that he did not mean to stand any man's airs. But
these extravagances were due perhaps to whisky-and-water, and that
kind of intoxication which comes to certain men from momentary
triumphs. Tifto could always be got to make a fool of himself when
surrounded by three or four men of rank who, for the occasion, would
talk to him as an equal. He almost declared that Coalition had lost
his match because he had not been taken down to Silverbridge.
"Tifto is in a deuce of a way with you," said Dolly Longstaff to the
young member.
"I know all about it," said Silverbridge, who had had an interview
with his partner since the race.
"If you don't take care he'll dismiss you."
Silverbridge did not care much about this, knowing that words of
wisdom did not ordinarily fall from the mouth of Dolly Longstaff. But
he was more moved when his friend Tregear spoke to him. "I wish you
knew the kind of things that fellow Tifto says behind your back."
"As if I cared!"
"But you ought to care."
"Do you care what every fellow says about you?"
"I care very much what those say whom I choose to live with me.
Whatever Tifto might say about me would be quite indifferent to
me, because we have nothing in common. But you and he are bound
together."
"We have a horse or two in common; that's all."
"But that is a great deal. The truth is he's a nasty, brawling,
boasting, ill-conditioned little reptile."
Silverbridge of course did not acknowledge that this was true. But he
felt it, and almost repented of his trust in Tifto. But still Prime
Minister stood very well for the Derby. He was second favourite, the
odds against him being only four to one. The glory of being part
owner of a probable winner of the Derby was so much to him that he
could not bring himself to be altogether angry with Tifto. There
was no doubt that the horse's present condition was due entirely to
Tifto's care. Tifto spent in these few days just before the race the
greatest part of his time in the close vicinity of the horse, only
running up to London now and then, as a fish comes up to the surface,
for a breath of air. It was impossible that Lord Silverbridge should
separate himself from the Major,--at any rate till after the Epsom
meeting.
He had paid the money for the match without a word of reproach to his
partner, but still with a feeling that things were not quite as they
ought to be. In money matters his father had been liberal, but not
very definite. He had been told that he ought not to spend above two
thousand pounds a year, and had been reminded that there was a house
for him to use both in town and in the country. But he had been given
to understand also that any application made to Mr. Morton, if not
very unreasonable, would be attended with success. A solemn promise
had been exacted from him that he would have no dealings with
money-lenders;--and then he had been set afloat. There had been a
rather frequent correspondence with Mr. Morton, who had once or twice
submitted a total of the money paid on behalf of his correspondent.
Lord Silverbridge, who imagined himself to be anything but
extravagant, had wondered how the figures could mount up so rapidly.
But the money needed was always forthcoming, and the raising of
objections never seemed to be carried back beyond Mr. Morton. His
promise to his father about the money-lenders had been scrupulously
kept. As long as ready money can be made to be forthcoming without
any charge for interest, a young man must be very foolish who will
prefer to borrow it at twenty-five per cent.
Now had come the night before the Derby, and it must be acknowledged
that the young Lord was much fluttered by the greatness of the coming
struggle. Tifto, having seen his horse conveyed to Epsom, had come up
to London in order that he might dine with his partner and hear what
was being said about the race at the Beargarden. The party dining
there consisted of Silverbridge, Dolly Longstaff, Popplecourt, and
Tifto. Nidderdale was to have joined them, but he told them on the
day before, with a sigh, that domestic duties were too strong for
him. Lady Nidderdale,--or if not Lady Nidderdale herself, then Lady
Nidderdale's mother,--was so far potent over the young nobleman as to
induce him to confine his Derby jovialities to the Derby Day. Another
guest had also been expected, the reason for whose non-appearance
must be explained somewhat at length. Lord Gerald Palliser, the
Duke's second son, was at this time at Cambridge,--being almost as
popular at Trinity as his brother had been at Christ Church. It was
to him quite a matter of course that he should see his brother's
horse run for the Derby. But, unfortunately, in this very year a
stand was being made by the University pundits against a practice
which they thought had become too general. For the last year or two
it had been considered almost as much a matter of course that a
Cambridge undergraduate should go to the Derby as that a Member
of Parliament should do so. Against this three or four rigid
disciplinarians had raised their voices,--and as a result, no young
man up at Trinity could get leave to be away on the Derby pretext.
Lord Gerald raged against the restriction very loudly. He at first
proclaimed his intention of ignoring the college authorities
altogether. Of course he would be expelled. But the order itself
was to his thinking so absurd,--the idea that he should not see his
brother's horse run was so extravagant,--that he argued that his
father could not be angry with him for incurring dismissal in so
excellent a cause. But his brother saw things in a different light.
He knew how his father had looked at him when he had been sent away
from Oxford, and he counselled moderation. Gerald should see the
Derby, but should not encounter that heaviest wrath of all which
comes from a man's not sleeping beneath his college roof. There was
a train which left Cambridge at an early hour, and would bring him
into London in time to accompany his friends to the race-course;--and
another train, a special, which would take him down after dinner, so
that he and others should reach Cambridge before the college gates
were shut.
The dinner at the Beargarden was very joyous. Of course the state of
the betting in regard to Prime Minister was the subject generally
popular for the night. Mr. Lupton came in, a gentleman well known in
all fashionable circles, parliamentary, social, and racing, who was
rather older than his company on this occasion, but still not so
much so as to be found to be an incumbrance. Lord Glasslough too,
and others joined them, and a good deal was said about the horse.
"I never keep these things dark," said Tifto. "Of course he's an
uncertain horse."
"Most horses are," said Lupton.
"Just so, Mr. Lupton. What I mean is, the Minister has got a
bit of temper. But if he likes to do his best I don't think any
three-year-old in England can get his nose past him."
"For half a mile he'd be nowhere with the Provence filly," said
Glasslough.
"I'm speaking of a Derby distance, my Lord."
"That's a kind of thing nobody really knows," said Lupton.
"I've seen him 'ave his gallops," said the little man, who in his
moments of excitement would sometimes fall away from that exact
pronunciation which had been one of the studies of his life, "and
have measured his stride. I think I know what pace means. Of course
I'm not going to answer for the 'orse. He's a temper, but if things
go favourably, no animal that ever showed on the Downs was more
likely to do the trick. Is there any gentleman here who would like to
bet me fifteen to one in hundreds against the two events,--the Derby
and the Leger?" The desired odds were at once offered by Mr. Lupton,
and the bet was booked.
This gave rise to other betting, and before the evening was over Lord
Silverbridge had taken three-and-a-half to one against his horse
to such an extent that he stood to lose twelve hundred pounds. The
champagne which he had drunk, and the news that Quousque, the first
favourite, had so gone to pieces that now there was a question which
was the first favourite, had so inflated him that, had he been left
alone, he would almost have wagered even money on his horse. In the
midst of his excitement there came to him a feeling that he was
allowing himself to do just that which he had intended to avoid. But
then the occasion was so peculiar! How often can it happen to a man
in his life that he shall own a favourite for the Derby? The affair
was one in which it was almost necessary that he should risk a little
money.
Tifto, when he got into his bed, was altogether happy. He had added
whisky-and-water to his champagne, and feared nothing. If Prime
Minister should win the Derby he would be able to pay all that he
owed, and to make a start with money in his pocket. And then there
would be attached to him all the infinite glory of being the owner of
a winner of the Derby. The horse was run in his name. Thoughts as to
great successes crowded themselves upon his heated brain. What might
not be open to him? Parliament! The Jockey Club! The mastership of
one of the crack shire packs! Might it not come to pass that he
should some day become the great authority in England upon races,
racehorses, and hunters? If he could be the winner of a Derby and
Leger he thought that Glasslough and Lupton would snub him no longer,
that even Tregear would speak to him, and that his pal the Duke's son
would never throw him aside again.
Lord Silverbridge had bought a drag with all its appendages. There
was a coach, the four bay horses, the harness, and the two regulation
grooms. When making this purchase he had condescended to say a word
to his father on the subject. "Everybody belongs to the four-in-hand
club now," said the son.
"I never did," said the Duke.
"Ah,--if I could be like you!"
The Duke had said that he would think about it, and then had told Mr.
Morton that he was to pay the bill for this new toy. He had thought
about it, and had assured himself that driving a coach and four was
at present regarded as a fitting amusement for young men of rank and
wealth. He did not understand it himself. It seemed to him to be
as unnatural as though a gentleman should turn blacksmith and make
horseshoes for his amusement. Driving four horses was hard work. But
the same might be said of rowing. There were men, he knew, who would
spend their days standing at a lathe, making little boxes for their
recreation. He did not sympathise with it. But the fact was so, and
this driving of coaches was regarded with favour. He had been a
little touched by that word his son had spoken. "Ah,--if I could be
like you!" So he had given the permission; the drag, horses, harness,
and grooms had come into the possession of Lord Silverbridge; and now
they were put into requisition to take their triumphant owner and his
party down to Epsom. Dolly Longstaff's team was sent down to meet
them half-way. Gerald Palliser, who had come up from Cambridge
that morning, was allowed to drive the first stage out of town to
compensate him for the cruelty done to him by the University pundits.
Tifto, with a cigar in his mouth, with a white hat and a blue veil,
and a new light-coloured coat, was by no means the least happy of the
party.
How that race was run, and how both Prime Minister and Quousque
were beaten by an outsider named Fishknife, Prime Minister, however,
coming in a good second, the present writer having no aptitude in
that way, cannot describe. Such, however, were the facts, and then
Dolly Longstaff and Lord Silverbridge drove the coach back to London.
The coming back was not so triumphant, though the young fellows
bore their failure well. Dolly Longstaff had lost a "pot of money",
Silverbridge would have to draw upon that inexhaustible Mr. Morton
for something over two thousand pounds,--in regard to which he had no
doubt as to the certainty with which the money would be forthcoming,
but he feared that it would give rise to special notice from his
father. Even the poor younger brother had lost a couple of hundred
pounds, for which he would have to make his own special application
to Mr. Morton.
But Tifto felt it more than any one. The horse ought to have won.
Fishknife had been favoured by such a series of accidents that the
whole affair had been a miracle. Tifto had these circumstances at
his fingers' ends, and in the course of the afternoon and evening
explained them accurately to all who would listen to him. He had this
to say on his own behalf,--that before the party had left the course
their horse stood first favourite for the Leger. But Tifto was
unhappy as he came back to town, and in spite of the lunch, which had
been very glorious, sat moody and sometimes even silent within his
gay apparel.
"It was the unfairest start I ever saw," said Tifto, almost getting
up from his seat on the coach so as to address Dolly and Silverbridge
on the box.
"What the ---- is the good of that?" said Dolly from the coach-box.
"Take your licking and don't squeal."
"That's all very well. I can take my licking as well as another
man. But one has to look to the causes of these things. I never saw
Peppermint ride so badly. Before he got round the corner I wished I'd
been on the horse myself."
"I don't believe it was Peppermint's fault a bit," said Silverbridge.
"Well;--perhaps not. Only I did think that I was a pretty good judge
of riding."
Then Tifto again settled down into silence.
But though much money had been lost, and a great deal of
disappointment had to be endured by our party in reference to the
Derby, the most injurious and most deplorable event in the day's
history had not occurred yet. Dinner had been ordered at the
Beargarden at seven,--an hour earlier than would have been named had
it not been that Lord Gerald must be at the Eastern Counties Railway
Station at nine P.M. An hour and a half for dinner and a cigar
afterwards, and half an hour to get to the railway station would not
be more than time enough.
But of all men alive Dolly Longstaff was the most unpunctual. He did
not arrive till eight. The others were not there before half-past
seven, and it was nearly eight before any of them sat down. At
half-past eight Silverbridge began to be very anxious about his
brother, and told him that he ought to start without further delay. A
hansom cab was waiting at the door, but Lord Gerald still delayed. He
knew, he said, that the special would not start till half-past nine.
There were a lot of fellows who were dining about everywhere, and
they would never get to the station by the hour fixed. It became
apparent to the elder brother that Gerald would stay altogether
unless he were forced to go, and at last he did get up and pushed the
young fellow out. "Drive like the very devil," he said to the cabman,
explaining to him something of the circumstances. The cabman did do
his best, but a cab cannot be made to travel from the Beargarden,
which as all the world knows is close to St. James's Street, to
Liverpool Street in the City in ten minutes. When Lord Gerald reached
the station the train had started.
At twenty minutes to ten the young man reappeared at the club.
"Why on earth didn't you take a special for yourself?" exclaimed
Silverbridge.
"They wouldn't give me one." After that it was apparent to all of
them that what had just happened had done more to ruffle our hero's
temper than his failure and loss at the races.
"I wouldn't have had it happen for any money you could name," said
the elder brother to the younger, as he took him home to Carlton
Terrace.
"If they do send me down, what's the odds?" said the younger brother,
who was not quite as sober as he might have been.
"After what happened to me it will almost break the governor's
heart," said the heir.