This website,  created by Valerie Martin, contains scenes from her home village of Findon, West Sussex, U.K.

Copyright Valerie Martin 2000

Please note that I cannot enter into correspondence on valuations of paintings nor advise on where best to sell items.

One day, at the age of 44, Edwin Douglas, the Victorian artist, announced that he believed his health was beginning to suffer for want of riding exercise. His wife, Christiana, smiled as she was not all that surprised because she had always know that he had a secret desire for the Hackney breed for which he cherished a great love.

This is how it came to be that on the 4th October 1892, Edwin Douglas left Findon to pay a visit to Norfolk with a view to purchasing a cob. He departed from Fox Down on the Findon Downs at half-past nine that Tuesday morning and he did not reach his destination until seven o'clock on a wet evening as dusk was closing in.

The dealer took him to his house that was near by. Supper was waiting on the table but on being invited to pay an impromptu visit to view the horses for sale, Edwin was enthusiastic and quickly agreed. They went out into the damp darkness, lantern in hand, to the long row of stables. The horses stirred and looked over at the men.

A good-looking chestnut immediately caught Edwin's eye in the swinging light and he stopped and enquired its age.

"Five years old, sir".

"Come, now", the artist laughed, "he's only four if he's a day", as Edwin opened the animal's mouth to inspect the teeth.

The dealer appeared disinterested and Edwin made a mental note to look at the horse again in the morning. The dealer tried to encourage him to look at other horses but nothing else took Edwin's fancy.

"There's only one here I want to see out and that's the chestnut — now let's get in out of the wet".

Once inside the house, Edwin found he was in a real Norfolk hackney breeder's parlour. The walls were adorned with paintings of horses the dealer had bred over the many years since he had been in the business. They were pictures executed in the old stilted style with the animals staring down from their frames like rows of neat wooden toy horses.

The dealer's old housekeeper sat studiously clicking her knitting needles in steady rhythm on one side of the fireplace. Edwin immediately spied the splendid feast of sumptuous roast pheasant spread on the table and a bottle of excellent champagne stood beside. They wined and dined him well. The dealer obviously hoped to do business with Edwin. Afterwards when they had eaten, the ill assorted trio gathered around the fireside, and then the horse talk began as always occurs when people of the same persuasion meet together, "hackney horse" talk of course. It was then off to bed for the night, as Edwin wanted to be able to pay an early visit to the stables in the morning and have another look at that chestnut that had taken his fancy. He then had to get back to Sussex.

After breakfast they once more stepped out to the yard and the chestnut was duly led out for inspection. Edwin noted that in his stable the animal's manners had been perfect. His first intuition was correct — yes, he looked even better in the daylight, and, moreover, he was by a well-known hackney horse, "Cadet". If there were any faults at all in his appearance, they were trifling.

"Would you like to see him ridden, sir?"

"Certainly, but trot him up and down first by hand, will you?"

While this was being done a dog appeared and made an excited bound at the horse. Edwin had never seen a horse so frightened until that day — the hind legs slipped from beneath it and the beast collapsed briefly on its rump.

"Hasn't been out of the stable for a month, sir," the dealer muttered an excuse.

The cob was fine, quite fresh, full of courage and seemed to be rather a handful at first, but with a good, all-round action. Maybe he had not been out of his stable for weeks after all, Edwin tried to convince himself.

"Next put him to harness and let me drive him" ventured Edwin.

The horse's manners in leather were very amiable and acceptable and he took up a nice hold of the bit. After taking him once or twice up and down and past his own stable to test his temper, Edwin agreed to purchase him at fifty pounds and the money passed hands.

Edwin's new acquisition was found to be as grand as he looked, and many pleasurable rides and drives were later had on the Findon Downs or through the village lanes with his "Lord Yaxham".

The horse was also very quick, and often drew ahead from the more weedy looking horses from the racing stables when on exercise out on the Findon Downs. One day Edwin heard a young owner asking his trainer if he knew of anyone who would gallop his horse against a mare he was riding, as she had never been beaten. Edwin immediately volunteered at once to pit his "Lord Yaxham" against the racehorse.

The race was duly set to take place at nine o'clock the following morning, (the prize, a silver cup), and everyone who was someone in Findon came up from the village to the Gallops to see it. A crowd gathered of well-wishers and gawpers. The whole affair was conducted properly and one of the trainers acted as Judge, and Christina was elected as Clerk of the Course, while another neighbour was the Starter. It is not know if anyone had any money on the race but in such a community it would be surprising if they had not.

Lord Yaxham sensed that something special was going on by the large crowd of spectators. The mare from the racing stables trotted up with a crowd of hangers-on from the stables. She came to line up for the two horse race and knew what was expected and went off like a bomb when the "flag fell". Not so for Edwin's "Lord Yaxham", who as well as being frightfully fresh, began to buck. He fortunately settled down in his stride before the other had made much headway. He quickly caught her, passed her and out-distanced her. Lord Yaxham sailed in a winner by a dozen lengths to the cheering thunder of the onlookers that sounded like the roaring of the sea that glittered between the Downs in the distance. Lord Yaxham and his owner became the winners of the silver cup won on the Findon Downs.

There were numerous jumps dotted on the downland immediately adjoining Edwin Douglas' family home of Fox Down in Findon in Victorian times. These were not as wide, nor as high, as the then Grand National Course at Liverpool, although the Findon horses were rehearsing for that great, most treacherous race of their lives. Nevertheless some of the Findon jumps were of awe-inspiring proportions. Especially daunting for the stable lads crouching on the horses' backs was the open ditch.

The Douglas family saw many nauseating horrors on the downland on their doorstep in the way of broken limbs and broken backs and this sickened them.  It was not unusual in winter for them to witness at least three horses' deaths on the sloping land below their property. On these occasions the family had to supply a gun to finally put the poor beasts out of their misery as an act of mercy.

Continue if you would like to read about the Wolfhounds painted by Edwin Douglas.