Louisa Cornell – Page 14 – Number One London

The Founding Fathers of English Racing – The Darley Arabian

BY LOUISA CORNELL

The story of the Darley Arabian starts in a place featured often on news stories today. He was born in 1700 in the Syrian desert outside of Aleppo. Sheik Mirza II bred the magnificent bay colt and in 1704 the British Consul, Thomas Darley, offered to buy the horse for 300 gold sovereigns. At some point, the sheik decided he could not bear to part with the colt and sent emissaries to Darley to renege on the deal. Darley, however, was not to be denied. He arranged to have the colt acquired and smuggled out of the country by way of Smyrna. Thus it was, with instructions sent ahead to Darley’s brother, Richard, at the family seat at Aldby Hall, Darley’s newly acquired prize landed in England.

Darley informed his brother the horse’s name was Manak, a descendant of the Muniqui line of Arabians, known for their speed and endurance. Manak’s breeding years spanned 1706 until 1719 and he is said to have covered (bred with) few outside of Darley’s mares. He did, however, produce quite a few great runners. One of the colts he produced out of a non-Darley mare was Childers. Childers, foaled in 1715, was out of a mare owned by Leonard Childers of Cantley Hall in Doncaster. The horse was later purchased by the Duke of Devonshire and became known as Devonshire Childers. His most well-known name was Flying Childers, and he was considered “the fleetest horse trained in this or any other country.”

Flying Childers continued his father’s line through his son Blaze. Blaze’s son Old Shales was an important trotting sire and is considered the foundation sire of the Hackney breed. Blaze’s great grandson, Messenger, became the foundation sire of the American Standardbred.

Messenger
Founding Sire of the American Standardbred

The Darley Arabian sired a colt foaled in 1716 known as Bartlett’s Childers. Whilst this colt, for reasons of health, never raced, he became a great stallion for his owner, Mr. Bartlett. Barlett’s Childers stood at stud at Nutwith Coate in Yorkshire. He sired a number of first rate runners, but it was his son, Marske, who went on to sire the great horse, Eclipse, that insured Bartlett’s Childers’s place in racing history.

The Darley Arabian spent his entire life at Aldby Hall and lived to the ripe old age of 30 years, old for any horse, and especially for one during this era. With a bit of larceny, kidnapping, and smuggling the little bay foal born in the tents of the Bedouins of Syria ended his days in the green fields of England. And his legacy lives on in the racing horses, not only of England, but of the world.

The Founding Fathers of English Racing – The Byerley Turk

BY LOUISA CORNELL

Have you given the horse strength? have you clothed his neck with thunder?

Can you make him afraid as a grasshopper? the glory of his nostrils is terrible.

He paws in the valley, and rejoices in his strength: he goes on to meet the armed men.

He mocks at fear, and is not affrighted; neither turns he back from the sword.

The quiver rattles against him, the glittering spear and the shield.

He swallows the ground with fierceness and rage: neither believes he that it is the sound of the trumpet.

He said among the trumpets, Ha, ha; and he smells the battle afar off, the thunder of the captains, and the shouting.

Job 39: 19-25

I have been a fan of English horse racing since I was a little girl watching the Grand National on telly in the little village of Kelsale, where we lived for three years whilst my father was stationed at Bentwaters AFB. The Sport of Kings, so called because of the heavy involvement of royalty from the beginning, (and probably because only someone as rich as a king can afford racehorses) has been a part of English history since the medieval period.

However, the true development of English racehorses, horses bred specifically to run and win races, can be traced back to three founding fathers, or as they are known in the horse breeding world – sires. The first of these was the Byerley Turk.

The Byerley Turk John Wooten (1682-1764)

Born in 1678 or 1679, the stallion was taken from a captured Turkish officer by Captain Robert Byerley of the Sixth Dragoon Guards under King William III of Orange at the siege of Buda in 1688. The stallion was Byerley’s warhorse when the captain was sent to Ireland. There are official records about a race held there in 1690, called the Silver Bell, which Captain Byerley’s charger won handily.

When Captain Byerley retired from the military the Turk was put to stud, first at the family home at Middridge Grange in County Durham and later at the family seat at Goldsborough Hall in Yorkshire. One of the important colts sired by the Byerley Turk was Basto, who ended up in the stable of the Duke of Devonshire and created quite a name for the Devonshire stables in racing circles.

However, his most important son was Jigg, a middling racer who sired Partner, who was a racing phenomenon in his day. Partner was the sire of Herod, a stallion who is considered one of the foundation sires of the modern thoroughbred. Herod’s progeny are responsible for carrying the Byerley Turk line through into the twenty-first century.

The Turk was known to be standing at stud well into 1704, the year he died. He is thought to be buried on the grounds of Goldsborough Hall. Captain Byerley followed him in May of 1714 and is also buried at Goldsborough.

Goldsborough Hall is now a popular wedding venue. However, I wonder, on a moonlit night if one listens carefully, if one might not hear the hoofbeats of the Byerley Turk and Captain Byerley swallowing the ground with fierceness and rage and glorying in the founding of the breed of magnificent creatures who carry on the tradition of the Sport of Kings.

FAR FROM THE MADDENING CROWD

BY LOUISA CORNELL

Life is the tiniest bit crazy at the moment. Lets face it, actually, the world is the tiniest bit crazy at the moment. When the world or my life trespasses over into “I. Have. Had. Enough. Of. This!” territory, I brew up a cup of Earl Grey or six and transport myself into the realm of impossibly possible dreams. I am certain we all have that place we go when we want to live exactly as we were meant to live if some rude imposter had not stolen our real life and replaced it with this hectic, maddening, and frankly annoying existence we are expected to make our way through until someone realizes their mistake and drops us back into the life we were born to appreciate. And if you don’t have that place and those thoughts, humor me. They say it is dangerous to challenge a madwoman’s delusions.

Today, I want to introduce you to the form my Happy Place, for lack of a better and less gooey New Age term, usually takes. Here are a few of my favorite retreats.

I love this one for the lighting alone. What’s not to love about these chandeliers?

The library at Wimpole Hall. Home to 12,000 books. Any questions?

The library at Blickling Hall. Look at all of that natural light.

Ramerscale House Library.

Those carpets! And the globes!

Harewood House’s library has a collection of over 14,000 books. This could take some time.

It needs a comfy chair, but that ceiling!

And the Nirvana of stately home libraries – Chatsworth – within whose walls over 20,000 books reside. Sigh!

The land of impossibly possible dreams is the best place to be when the world threatens to overrun you and the barbarians are beating at the gates of your mind. My library at home does not resemble these libraries in any way save for it has shelves and books. However, with enough Earl Grey, a comfortable chair, a purring tabby and a few snoring dogs, I can transport myself to one of these heavenly spots and escape for a while. I am a writer. I spend a great deal of time living in my imagination. They know me there, right down to the way I like my tea and the jam I like on my scones.

Here’s to those havens in our imaginations. And to dreaming our way to making them a reality. And if all else fails, here’s to the places and people and things that keep us sane in a crazy world. Hathaway, are there anymore scones? I still have a few more chapters to read before bed.

DO YOU KNOW ABOUT – POSTILION BOOTS?

by Kristine Hughes Patrone

On a recent visit to Hever Castle, I met with this formidable pair of “postilion boots” and decided that I had to find out more about the history of this footwear. Here, I share with you what I learned. First, from the Hever Castle website:

“The large leather and iron postilion’s boots date from 1690. A postilion was a man who rode one of a pair of horses that pulled a coach. It could be very dangerous if a leg became caught between the two horses, so each postilion wore one boot on that leg to protect himself from injury.

“Postilion riders usually rode the left horse of a pair and this style of travel was known as ‘posting’. Before the days of railways posting was the best method of travelling in England and on the Continent. Travellers would hire a private carriage from a postmaster. In England the postmasters were usually hotel keepers, and not employed by the Government. The carriage would travel from one posthouse to the next, where the postilions and/or horses could be replaced if necessary. Ordinarily a carriage was only taken on the main road, from one station to another. However, arrangements could be made to go off of the main road to a country house.”

Here are examples of postilion riders escorting carriages of various styles –

Above is the rear view of a pair of French postilion boots from the second half of the 18th century that I found on the website of military antiquarian Bertrand Malvaux. The description reads – “Black oiled leather with reinforced knees. Foot decorated with a cotton seam representing scrolls. One of these boots has still got its steel spur. Height: 56 cm; foot length : 32 cm.Very good condition (minor damage in the top part of boots). These surprising boots were used for postilions to protect their calves and knees from the shocks caused by the shaft of the coaches they drove. The wooden or leather sole was fixed onto the upper by pegs. It was curved so as to hold the stirrup on which it stood. These boots were called ‘the seven-league boots’. Indeed, at first, an average distance of seven leagues separated two staging posts.”

Finally, here is a bit on the distinction between postilion boots and the similar Marlborough jackboots, with further historical detail as to both, as found on Past Pleasures Ltd – Bringing History to Life:

“Here are a pair of my so-called ‘Marlborough’ jackboots, made somewhere between 1670 and 1712, according to the authority Miss June Swan of the Northampton Shoe Museum, which conserved them. (As my readers doubtless know, the midlands town was famous for its footwear. My family hail from there and for awhile owned a shoemaking factory; one of the regular customers was WG Grace for his cricket boots!).

“The massive cuffs at the knee would protect the wearer’s knees from an enemy on foot in a battle, as well as from thorns etc whilst out hunting. The high stacked leather heels not only follow the fashion of the period but also help to keep the feet firmly in the stirrups. On the underside you can see the leather pegs and hand-sewn details. The Square toes are a fashion that came about in about 1630 and died out about a hundred years later (thereafter the term ‘Old Square Toes’ was a derogatory remark).

“Unfortunately, although I have a pair of spurs of the period (not associated with the boots) I don’t have the distinctive ‘butterfly spur leathers’, the decorative shaped leather pieces worn at the instep.

“These boots are so stiff, heavy and strong they feel like they’re made of wood! They aren’t remotely supple and must’ve been hell to wear on foot –although the original owner would’ve changed into high-heeled buckled shoes as soon as he dismounted. And they would have been bespoke, so more comfortable. But heavy, and heavy-looking, as they are, they are not to be confused with ‘postilion boots’, those massive black leather boots you see in museums which were actually attached to the saddle, into which the post boy and/or postilion, riding one of the outside horses in a coach and four, would thrust his own booted legs.”

BEGUILED BY A BARON – CHRISTI CALDWELL’S NEWEST HISTORICAL ROMANCE AND THOSE CRAZY BIBLIOMANIACS

Excerpt from : Beguiled by a Baron

His brother may have failed to find an appropriate housekeeper in the last woman to hold the post, but there could be no doubting this one’s skill and knowledge. “Shall we?” Not waiting to see if she followed, he guided her from his most rare Collection Room to the one in the next hall. “In here, you’ll find all works of Western artists. From Shakespeare to his friends Herminge and Condell, you’ll find all the greatest here.”

He stole another peek at his housekeeper in time to detect the disapproving way in which she wrinkled her nose. “Only Western artists?”

Tamping down a grin, he guided her across the hallway to the adjacent room. “The finest of the Oriental literary masters is shelved in here.” Letting them inside, Vail displayed some of his finest books. “The Tale of Genji—”

“Genji Monogatari,” she whispered, touching a hand to her mouth.

“As well as Makura no Soshi,” he finished, supplying that Japanese title. He tamped down his tangible surprise at the depth of her proficiency in text. He wasn’t so snobbish that he’d be startled by a young woman’s mastery of Oriental literature, but neither was he so connected to women who had a grasp of even Western texts. His appreciation grew for the composed Mrs. Hamlet. “Shall we?”

The lady nodded eagerly. “Have you read all these titles?” she asked, as they resumed their tour.

“Many. Not most. My collections are too vast,” he said without inflection. It was a matter of fact, more than anything. “Not as impressive as Lord Dandridge’s, whose floors caved in from all the books he kept.”

A startled laugh spilled from the lady’s lips. Enchanted by the husky beauty of it, he looked over.

“You joke,” she charged, a sparkle in her eyes.

He swallowed hard. Blast if he wasn’t captivated by her wit and her bloody smile. “Indeed, not,” he forced himself to answer. Affixing a grin to his face, he leaned close to her ear. “Hardly as shocking as Lord Templeton who has a problem with rats and shoots them at all hours of the night to keep them from his texts.”

The lady widened her eyes. “Surely you jest now?”

Actually he’d didn’t. Mrs. Hamlet revealed her naiveté where his world was concerned and he far preferred her as just a woman with a deep appreciation for literature. Not wanting to disillusion her with the ugly he’d witnessed, Vail winked, earning another laugh. The sound of it did funny things to his heart’s rhythm. Unnerved, he hurried through the remainder of the tour, showing his housekeeper the seven rooms where his titles were kept. After they’d finished, the lady fell silent.

“Well?” he urged as they arrived at his office.

She gave her head a wistful shake. “It is a shame someone else will have possession of all these great works.”

And just like that, she’d brought them ’round back to her earlier disapproval. Not knowing why that should matter, just that it did, Vail rang the bell, needing for a restoration of his own logic where Mrs. Hamlet was concerned. “Mr. Lodge will show you to your rooms. You may have the day to familiarize yourself with the residence and have Mr. Lodge perform your introductions to the staff.”

This delightful excerpt from Christi Caldwell’s wonderful new historical romance hints at the hero’s knowledge of the Regency phenomenon – bibliomania. The author does an amazing job of setting a passionate love story in the middle of the world of the antique book dealer and the lengths to which Regency gentlemen went in order to acquire new volumes for their collections.

To read more about bibliomania, check out our previous post here :

HIS LORDSHIP DID IT IN THE LIBRARY – And Here’s Why…

And to read a poignant, witty, and moving love story set in the world of books and mania, check out Beguiled by a Baron, out today !!

A Lady with a Secret… Partially deaf, with a birthmark marring her face, Bridget Hamilton is content with her life, even if she’s been cast out of her family. But her peaceful existence—expanding her mind with her study of rare books—is threatened with an ultimatum from her evil brother—steal a valuable book or give up her son. Bridget has no choice; her son is her world.

A Lord with a Purpose… Vail Basingstoke, Baron Chilton is known throughout London as the Bastard Baron. After battling at Waterloo, he establishes himself as the foremost dealer in rare books and builds a fortune, determined to never be like the self-serving duke who sired him. He devotes his life to growing his fortune to care for his illegitimate siblings, also fathered by the duke. The chance to sell a highly coveted book for a financial windfall is his only thought.

Two Paths Collide… When Bridget masquerades as the baron’s newest housekeeper, he’s hopelessly intrigued by her quick wit and her skill with antique tomes. Wary from having his heart broken in the past, it should be easy enough to keep Bridget at arm’s length, yet desire for her dogs his steps. As they spend time in each other’s company, understanding for life grows as does love, but when Bridget’s integrity is called into question, Vail’s world is shattered—as is his heart again. Now Bridget and Vail will have to overcome the horrendous secrets and lies between them to grasp a love—and life—together.

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2rmLp6l

iBooks: http://apple.co/2rvOEXZ

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2qSnoRr

Barnes and Noble: http://bit.ly/2rBMuHL

USA TODAY Bestselling author CHRISTI CALDWELL blames Julie Garwood and Judith McNaught for luring her into the world of historical romance. While sitting in her graduate school apartment at the University of Connecticut, Christi decided to set aside her notes and pick up her laptop to try her hand at romance. She believes the most perfect heroes and heroines have imperfections, and she rather enjoys torturing them before crafting them a well deserved happily ever after!

Christi makes her home in southern Connecticut where she spends her time writing her own enchanting historical romances, chasing around her feisty seven-year-old son and caring for her twin princesses in training!