I spent my pre-teen and some teen years as a girl mad about horses. I petted and rode them, mucked out stalls, collected statues and pictures, tried to paint their images, and thought about horses incessantly. Were you like me? Did you know where every horse in your neighborhood could be seen? Did you beg your parents to drive you to the stables?
I was recently reminded of my love for this book when I came across an old newsletter from the Royal Oak Society with an article about English horses, especially the three founding sires of all Thoroughbreds in the 18th century: The Darley Arabian, The Byerley Turk, and The Godolphin Arabian, aka King of the Wind, in the novel by Margaret Henry. I was lucky to live near Wayne, Illinois, where Henry lived and wrote the books I adored, with illustrations by the equally brilliant artist Wesley Dennis, such as the four below. Click on the pictures for full-size versions.
The Royal Oak article on English horses, particularly racehorses, wrote of several famous artists who often painted the favorite champions of the 18th and 19th centuries, and whose portraits have gained widespread fame, such as those shown below. Left, Whistlejacket, by George Stubbs (1724-1806), original in the National Gallery, London, and right, a copy hanging at the Wentworth-Woodhouse estate. My photos.
Above left, Jason, his Groom and Sir Harry Harpur by Sawrey Gilpin (1733-1807), which hangs at Calke Abbey;
right, Hambletonian Rubbing Down, also by Stubbs, which hangs at Mount Stewart in County Down, Northern Ireland. Both photos from National Trust Collections.
right, Hambletonian Rubbing Down, also by Stubbs, which hangs at Mount Stewart in County Down, Northern Ireland. Both photos from National Trust Collections.
The closest I ever came to racing was months schooling this retired racing mare for a friend and colleague in Maryland who paused her riding while she carried her third child. I loved every minute of putting the mare through her paces to become a collected and amiable mount whether in the ring, on the trail, or even hunting.
Since both my colleague and I were journalists, we both must have been cheering Journalism in his brilliant stretch run to win the Preakness, right there in Maryland. In tracing the long line of Journalism's pedigree, we find it goes through Native Dancer, Eclipse, and all the way to the Darley Arabian, perhaps to all three of the founding Thoroughbred Sires.
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