JOCKEYS OF THE PRESENT DAY.

Otago Witness, Issue 1763, 5 September 1885, Page 21

JOCKEYS OF THE PRESENT DAY.

(Licensed Victualler!*' Gazette.)

Whatever it may be for the rest of the community, this is undoubtedly the golden age for the jockey ; and while everyone, from the great landowner to the smallest tradesman, is cora--ilaining of hard times, he is revelling in a luxury that the most fortunate of his predecessors never dreamed of. He is as much petted as a prima donna, his portraits are as much sought after as those of a fashionable actress? his doings are as minutely chronicled as those of royalty, he is the companion of princes, he patronises the aristocracy, smaller men think Themselves honoured if he but smile upon them, and he will get more for a few minutes' ride than a man of genius will receive for years of m ™ t . al ™ lavished upon some great work that will delight the remotest posterity. They are the petted and spoiled darlings of the time. It must be admitted, however, that it is no such easy calling; of the hundreds of boys who go into the racing stables, probably not five per cent., after a long training, have the nerve or ability to ride in one of the great races of the season, and few even of that small percentage ever develop into first-rate riders, It is curious to contrast the condition of the lockey of a hundred or even seventy years ago with that of a crack mount of the present day. Before railways were opened he had to walk his horses from one racecourse to another, and occasionally do stable drudgery; now he proceeds from meeting to meeting in a first-class carriage, with some nobleman for his companion, with whom he lightens the tedium of the journey by a game at Nap ; never soils his hands, and has a valet to wait upon him. When good old John Day achieved two big victories in one week for the Duke of Graf ton, his Grace made bim a present of twenty pounds, which w;is considered a very handsome gift. Think of that, ye Fred Archers ! Soraetiines the successful jockey was made happy by the reoeipt

of a side of bacon or a barrel of home-brewed in addition to his wages— our fathers called his remuneration by that vulgar word, which would shock the susceptibilities of the present race.

We could do nowadays with a revival of the good old school of simple-minded, frugal, straightforward, downright jockeys, of whom John Day, the Scotts, and Sim Templeton were types — men whose dinner at noon consisted of a cut of mutton or beef, a slice of pudding, and a jug of humming ale, whose ambition for society never soared above the company of the bar parlour of the sporting inn, and whose ideas of refreshment seldom went beyond a long clay and a glass or two of brandy-and- water. Now, forsooth, when he is not in training, my gentleman must dine on French dishes and French wines at 8 p.m., with the Duke of Noodledum, or the Marquis of Greenhorn, or Mr Juggins, the banker's son, smoke cigars at five pounds the hundred, and swill champagne at twelve-and-six or fifteen shillings the bottle. Has money improved him ? If it had he would, be an exception to every other class of mankind. In the first place he must always be an exotic in his new sphere ; the stable is not exactly the place to train a gentleman, though it is the only place to train a jockey ; duchesses may smile upon him and dukes hob-and-nob with him, and the houses of the great receive him as an honoured guest, But the scent of the stable will hang round liim still.

There must be something, nevertheless, out of the common in a man who can take a foremost position as a jockey ; in his early career, at all events, he has to depend upon himself and his own skill, and he must do something remarkable before the hand of patronage will be extended to him ; that once firmly grasped it greatly depends upon himself whether it will lift him to a Derby winner or drop him back upon the dung heap. He must have a certain amount of control over his appetites, and never allow them to interfere with his work ; he must be honest, as the world goes, a man upon whom a certain dependence can be placed, and must also take care not too frequently to disgrace the society which tolerates him. The very few jockeys who stand in the first rank of their profession fulfil these conditions — or they would not be there.

But the rank and file — we do not speak individually, but generally — the second 'and third raters and " the Field," who live in the halo that shines around the first favourites, yet who earn incomes that many a college man would esteem himself rich upon, are of a very different calibre. If you would behold the weazened •little maunikins in all their glory, drop into the London Aqarium or the Cri., or certain hotels in the neighbourhood of Leicester square much affected by them during the racing season, and there you will see them in all their glory, strutting like game-cocks in a barn-yard full of hens. Each one has his attendant worshippers, fellows with more money than brains, who usually stand Sam to a pretty tune. A few years back a pint of four ale was nectar to them, and two pen'orth of fiery gin a treat to smack their lips over ; now '74 champagne is their ordinary drink, and auything commoner than brandy and Apollinaris would pollute their lips. There they go, night after night,*drinlring away the very little stamina that sweatings and dissipation have spared, bragging to a crowd of admiring parasites of what they have done, what they intend to do, and what they can do, explaining away their failures, giving tips for horses, that will probably be scratched next morning, to clerks and shopboys, who will boast to envious friends of the " go-in " they had the other night with Bill, or Tom, or Jack, or Charley So-and-so. Sometimes it's a little dinner, at which each Jack has his Jill, and at which there are seven or eight courses. We wonder if they ever think of the days when it was a hunk of bread and cheese, or a bit of cold scran sent out by the guvnor, that they discussed with a clasp knife upon their thumb. They make a glorious night of it, and wake in the morning somewhere in the purlieus of the Haymarket with throbbing heads and shaking hands ; perhaps they have a trial race on or even stakes to run for ; breakfast is out of the question, a brandy and soda, a cab to the station, and then for the course ; sometimes they win, but they are not in much condition to do so, and you have only to note the different form of the horses they ride when they are under firmer hands. And a man's fortune may hang upon these rotten reeds, who care for nothing so long as they can live in luxury, get drunk on champagne, and be surrounded by silly admirers. But this is not all. How open in their cups do they betray their master's secrets, sometimes in mere silliness or vanity ; sometimes a bookmaker will put a fair Cyprienne on them to worm out the truth about a certain horse, and sometimes they are not above taking a bribe to betray their trust, either by wagging their tongues, by pulling, or even by hocussing.

Let us repeat the assurance, however, that we are not attempting to cry down jockeys as a class, for there are many worthy, straightforward men among them. It would be invidious to mention names. We may remark, however, in conclusion, that the men who envy and disparage their successful confreres will be better employed if they took pattern by them and tried to understand the secret of their success, which is not to be found in a champagne bottle or in the society of rogues, fools, and harlots.