Victorian Photographers - Gentlemen in Chairs

It was a question that required some thought.
How would you like to be remembered?

Once upon a time, having a portrait photograph made
was an important milestone in one's life.
It was a record of a moment
but it was also a memento of achievement. 

In preparing for the camera,
besides one's favorite suit
and a proper shave by your barber,
what else could you do to look your best?

Perhaps use some props
to convey distinction and gentility.
A few books at hand always added
a serious enlightened quality to a portrait.

For some men a book was considered unnecessary.
It was their distinguished visage
and earnest expression that said it all.
Even while seated relaxed at a desk
their face could not conceal
an upstanding self-confidence. 

For others, posing for a photograph was easy
if you understood how a camera worked.
It was as simple as looking at a mirror
and liking what you saw.

Yet a few men felt

it was important for posterity
to include symbols of their life
in this new medium of a photograph. 

As the great bard would say,

                                                        All the world’s a stage,

                                                        And all the men and women merely players;

                                                        They have their exits and their entrances;

                                                        And one man in his time plays many parts...

'As You Like It' (1599) act 2, sc. 7, l. 139

Today I present five Victorian gentlemen
who once posed for a photographer
and left behind a small carte de visite photo
of the occasion for me to find
and for others to admire.

My first gentleman is a man about age 50-60 seated in a carved wooden armchair which has a seat and back upholstered in fine fabric. He looks direct into the camera lens as he rests one hand on some small books placed on an ornately carved/turned pedestal side table. The books are about the same size as a modern paperback and I believe they are likely works of fiction rather than scholarly or theological tomes.

The photograph was produced by the Theweneti brothers' studio of Bath, a historic city in Somerset, England, that is famous for and named after its Roman-built baths which were built around its natural hot springs. Beginning in the Stuart period and later Georgian era it became a popular destination for people seeking a restorative health treatment from its waters. In the 1860s many photographers set up studios in Bath to cater to its many visitors. This cdv has no name or date, but the simple small type of the photographer and the square corners dates it to the 1860s.

The carte de visite, 'visiting card' or cdv, was first developed in 1854 by French photographer André Adolphe Eugène Disdéri. A cdv image was an albumen print made from a collodion negative on thin paper that was glued onto thicker paper cardstock the same size as a formal visiting card, about 4½ x 2½ inches (11.4 x 6.3 cm). Because the photographic process was reproducible, a photographer could easily print any number of copies for a very inexpensive price. These two factors led to the cdv becoming a very popular portrait medium in the 1860s-70s.  

* * *

My second gentleman also sits, but this time at a desk. He is also in his late 50s or 60s and wears a long frock coat that, I think, gives him the air of a businessman. He has a thoughtful gaze away from the camera as he holds an open book, maybe with pen in hand. The desk is an ingenious compact writing desk called a davenport or sea captain's desk that, supposedly, originates from a design first made in the 1790s for a Captain Davenport by Gillows of Lancaster. A davenport features a sloped, leather-lined top, that lifts to reveal a compartment for stationary. One side has a set of drawers and there are often hidden secret drawers, or a brass or wood gallery for storing letters. 

The photographer was J. W. Clarke of 1 Wool Hall Street, opposite West door of Corn Exchange, in Bury St. Edmunds, a cathedral and market town in the county of Suffolk, England. This cdv is signed and dated by its subject, but the handwriting style is challenging to decipher. I think it reads:

Julian Hale Sawyer

1870 

* * *

My third gentleman also sits at a davenport but without extra props. His silver grey hair definitely put him in his late 60s or 70s. Like all of the examples I present here, I have no knowledge of his background other than the photographer's name and location. But as this cdv was made by Rae Photo of Dumfries, Scotland I presume he is Scottish. 

The back of the cdv has an imprint of a stag over Rae, Photographer, Dumfries, (duplicates may be had). The more detailed style of imprint dates the photo to the late 1860s or early 1870s. Dumfries is a market town and former royal burgh situated in the western part of Scotland's Southern Uplands, near the mouth of the River Nith on the Solway Firth. The celebrated Scottish poet and lyricist Robert Burns (1758–1796) lived in Dumfries during the last years of his life. 

* * *

My next gentleman sits cross-legged in a relaxed manner like the man from Dumfries but he has a most engaging face looking straight into the camera lens, almost with a smile. He looks to be in his 30s though his pate is bare, but he sports a neatly trimmed beard strap without mustache or chin whiskers. I've seen this hairstyle on photos of clerics, but this man is dressed in a regular suit with an ordinary collar and black bowtie. Yet I think his choice of a neck-beard is an indication of some special career, perhaps in medicine or academia. To one side is another davenport desk, a fashionable studio furnishing seen in many cdv photographs from this era.

The photographer was John Bull of Melcombe Villa in Weymouth, a seaside town in the ceremonial county of Dorset, England. It is situated on a sheltered bay by the English Channel at the mouth of the River Wey. During the Georgian era, Weymouth was a popular place for Britain's upper class to take summer holidays, but after a railway line was built in 1857 connecting it to London it boosted trade and tourism attracting many more visitors. I suspect this photograph was taken in the late 1860s. 

* * *

My final gentleman is seated at an ornate pedestal table while holding some letters or papers. On the table is a large bust of William Shakespeare. His gaze is just slightly to the left of the camera. He appears a mature man of age 50+ with grey hair and a kind of hybrid mustache, side chops, and chin beard. Unlike the other photographers' studio sets which had mostly empty backwalls for good light contrast, this studio has a wall painted with a dramatic mountainous landscape that includes a castle. It's a more rugged scene than anywhere in British Isles, I think.  

After a search of the internet, I think the bust of Shakespeare is a bronze casting made by the F. Barbedienne Foundry in Paris following a design by the French sculptor Jean-Antoine Houdon (1741–1828). It is described as dating from the 1870s which I think fits with this cdv's qualities. The studio was that of the Southwell brothers, Photographers Royal, at 16 & 22 Baker Street in London. The word "Royal" meant that the Southwell brothers' studio held an official Royal Warrant, indicating they were authorized to photograph Queen Victoria or members of the Royal Household.    

This is the first story of what will be a series exploring carte de visite photos. Unlike my usual stories about photos of musicians and musical groups, the subjects of this series are ordinary people without any obvious connections to music. Instead I'd like to present examples of photo portraits taken in the first decades of the photographic age.  

A few months ago I acquired several carte de visite photos of celebrated European musicians and composers which I hope to feature in some future stories. But in the process I came across one British dealer who offered thousands of portrait photos, all cdvs, roughly from the 1860s to the 1880s. Most of these photos had superb clarity and included men, women, children, and couples from Britain and France. The photos were also listed at amazingly cheap prices. So with a few clicks of the mouse button I bought them and in the process created a new album for my collection. 

The subjects are mostly unknown, but the photographers' names place them in a large variety of locations that shows how quickly the cdv medium spread. I've come to think about this collection as like a crowded Victorian railway station filled with anonymous people going every which way. We see an interesting face and wonder. What does that person do? How old are they? Where are they from? Why are they dressed that way?

As the great bard said,

                                                    All the world’s a stage,

                                                    And all the men and women merely players...

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where a television once had only three channels

and the evening news was really news.

 

Fashionable Tin

 

What does a photo portrait reveal?

A person's facial features, of course,

and maybe their age too.
Though that's usually
a subjective quality
that's hard to determine
in unidentified subjects.
And likewise the color
of eyes or hair
is a just a guess
in antique sepia tone photos.

If the camera is positioned far enough away
a person's clothing is included in the frame
so that a taste for fashion can be ventured.

Handmade or store bought?
Velvet or gingham?
Light pink or dark green?

But personality?
Not so much.
A frown does not indicate
a lack of good humor.
A dull eye is not a sign
of a dull mind.
A bland expression 
does not prove an uncaring heart.

A photograph is just
a fleeting moment in a person's life.
Only their family and friends
knew their genuine nature.  

Today I present three anonymous young women
who posed for a camera a long time ago.
Unbeknownst to them
their little tintype photos
recorded personal styles
that surprisingly resemble
future fashion trends from our time. 

A tintype or ferrotype is with a unique photographic process that captures an image like a mirror. That is, the light reflected on the emulsion of the metal plate reverses itself creating a positive image like a mirror does. So a tintype photo, despite its clarity and focus, is actually not a true-to-life image like in a modern photograph. However with computer software I can easily flip the image and transform it into a realistic likeness of a person. That's what I've done here with the first young woman's photo. It makes a subtle difference, but I think it allows a viewer to better appreciate a person's face. 

One of the most striking things to observe in antique portraits is how people dressed and styled their hair. Most women in the 19th century did not cut their hair and usually arranged it neatly in a coil or bun. From 1845 to 1900, in the early age of photography, women appear in photos with various hair fashions ranging from slick oiled hair pulled tightly at the back to elaborate coiffures with braids, waves, and curls. 

But this girl chose an unconventional hair style that is almost breezy and unkempt. It does not fit with the common fashions seen in most portraits of both young and mature women. I can't say for sure, of course, but she is only a teenager I think. Maybe around age thirteen to sixteen. Surely not more than nineteen. To my 21st century eye she looks more like a girl from the 1960s-70s. It's frizzy pop star hair, a bit like Janis Joplin, Carly Simon, or Maria Muldaur.

I bought this tintype mainly because I thought it was good example of this photograph medium and also because she had such an unusual, even chic, quality that was outside the norm for this period. The photo is small, 1.5 inches (4 cm) by 2.0 inches ( 5 cm).

* * *

A year later I found a second tintype portrait of another young lady with a very similar hair style. Like the other girl, this girl has medium long hair in curled locks and then casually gathered up by a ribbon band around her head. Again I have reversed the original tintype to show her true features. The photographers in both portraits dabbed some pink color onto the girls' cheeks. It is stronger on this girl but her downward gaze gives her a sad expression. 

The back of the tintype has remnants of a paper matt or envelope. Someone has written a cryptic note: #7EL. This photo is larger than the others, about 1.75 inches (4.5 cm) by 2.75 inches (7 cm).

* * *

My third girl comes displayed in her original paper frame. She is older, maybe 18-19 or even in her twenties. Like the other two she has the same frizzled hair tied with a ribbon but adds a flower and a second ribbon around her neck. She also has pink cheeks and a serious, if not glum, countenance.

This photo is about the same size as the first one, what is called a Gem size, but the paper envelope has dimensions similar to a carte de visite photo, about 2.5 inches (6.5 cm) by 4.0 inches (10 cm). Since tintype photos are made on an iron sheet coated with japanned black enamel, the material doesn't invite annotations in pencil or ink. The paper envelopes may have space for a date or name but are very fragile and easily lost. Finding one that has been preserved makes it special. Tintypes like these were popular from around 1860 to 1885. They were relatively easy for a photographer to make and develop quickly. Many tintype photographers set up a trade at amusement parks and on seaside resort boardwalks. They usually cost about 25 cents.

The back of this photo shows how the little tintype was held in the frame by a piece of newspaper pasted onto the envelope.  

The paper backing is clipped from the top left corner of a newspaper page. Another bit of black paper adheres to the back and probably comes from an album page where the photo was once stored. There is enough of the newsprint to make out a report on "The Latest Postage..." which lists postage fees for letters, pamphlets, and registered mail. Unfortunately there is no name, place, or date. But the report reads like a federal notice so I wondered, could I find a similar one in the newspaper archives? 

I could indeed. The same words were in a report from the West Chester, Pennsylvania Local News published on 2 January 1874. 

West Chester, PA Local News
2 January 1874

The report is verbatim to the clipped portion on the photo. Though I found the same report published in other newspapers in other years there were slight differences in the regulatory text. It leads me to believe that this particular girl had her photo taken sometime around 1873 to 1874, though not necessarily in Pennsylvania. Whether this is the time frame for the other two girls, I can't say, but it seems safe to place them in the same 1870s decade.  

The full report also includes the 1874 U. S. postal rate for letters to foreign addresses. For mail to Germany and Great Britain it was 6 cents per ½ ounce. France and Italy was 10 cents. Russia 11 cents. Letters to China via San Francisco was only 10 cents using American steamers but 28 cents using British mail service. Likewise South Africa was 28 cents too.

I'm not sure what, if anything, connects these three portraits.
They have an exotic quality that suggests
the girls have a youthful free spirit.

Their unorthodox hair fashion might be influenced
by their ethnic or national heritage,
or a favorite romance book or operetta,
or just normal teenage rebellion.
Beyond that we really can't infer much more
without resorting to our modern prejudices
and preconceptions.
Let's just call them pretty.

 

I'll finish with some appropriate music.
Here is Irving Berlin's hit song
from the “The Ziegfeld Follies Of 1919”

"A Pretty Girl Is Like A Melody"

 

This was the first recording of this song,
as sung by the tenor John Steel who made it famous
in the first Broadway production of the "Follies".
It was recorded by the Victor Talking Machine Co.

in Camden, New Jersey on June 30, 1919.

Sheet music cover to
"A Pretty Girl Is Like A Melody" 
by Irving Berlin, 1919
Source: Wikipedia

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where smoking is strictly prohibited
except in restricted galleries.

Up the Hill, Down the Vale

 

In olden times
horsepower was measured 
by teams of four-footed steeds.
Fueled by hay, barley and oats,
horses once provided people
with dependable transportation
pulling wagons and coaches
over impressive distances
and sometimes challenging terrain.

In our modern times
horsepower has come to mean
something different,
a number defined by engine size
and noxious fuels.
Motorized wagons and coaches
can now carry people farther and faster.
Yet the thrill of travel
still comes down to geography.

Today I present a trip to a remote and exotic place
that has always attracted visitors curious about
its beautiful scenery and warm hospitality,
and one especially steep road.

This colorized postcard shows the Lynton & Minehead Coach at the Ship Inn in Porlock, England. Four white horses are hitched to a handsome stagecoach with at least ten, maybe twelve passengers perched on top. They are stopped outside a celebrated coaching inn at the small village of Porlock in Somerset, England situated on the southern coast of the Bristol Channel. It is about 1½ miles from the sea, though a thousand years ago it was right on the water. The village is about 17 miles east of Lynton and 6 miles west of Minehead. 

I found this postcard when I was looking for another card to add to an order from a postcard seller in Britain. I've always been fascinated by how people used to travel before the age of the automobile and photo postcards of British horse-drawn coaches are not common to find from American postcard dealers. As I soon discovered though, there are hundreds of similar postcards of Porlock's Ship Inn that are all nearly nearly identical except for the the color of the horses. For centuries the narrow road outside the inn has forced photographers to stand in about the same place in order to fit the coach and horse in the camera frame.

This postcard was sent from Weston-super-Mare on 16 October 1907 at 9:15 PM.

Just to wish you a

very happy birthday

&   many of them

Love from

        Mab

The Shipp Inn is situated on the A39, the main road into and out of the village. Unseen behind the photographer, the landscape ascends to Exmoor, a hilly open moorland, now a national natural park, that covers much of west Somerset and north Devon in southwest England. The road to Lynton goes up Porlock Hill which is infamous as the steepest A-road in Britain, (the A signifies a primary roadway in the UK, B roads are minor and for local traffic.) From the Ship Inn the A39 climbs 1,300 ft (400 m) in less than 2 miles (3.2 km) with a gradient of 1 in 4 (25%) in many places. 

In this postcard's bird's eye view, we see a horse-drawn coach filled with people descending the hill. It looks like there are two wagons but I think they are linked together with the second one acting as a brake. The road takes a sharp bend at the bottom of the picture where there is a small space for an emergency pullout. 

This card was sent from Porlock on 26 October 1910 at 7 AM.

                                    I am so awfully sorry we
                        have missed the post this
                        morning.  We forgot to post
                        the letters last night.  How
                        dreadfully sad about poor
                        old Mr Spence  I am so very very
                        sorry a for her too it will
                        be awful for her they were so much
                        to one another.  I am just going to 
                        write to her.  It is not very fine but
                        may clear up later.  Love from 
                                                H. L.

The Ship Inn is one of the oldest hostelries in England with a history going back to the 1400s at least. In earlier centuries it was sea routes and ships, not roads, that really connected people in the British Isles. Porlock, like many fishing villages along England's remote southwest coast, became known for its connection to smuggling and the Ship Inn often served as a haven for black market contraband. 

On this undated photo postcard a coach parked outside the Ship Inn is hitched to six dark horses. The trip from Lynton to Porlock only needed four horses, but for a return going up Porlock Hill, an extra pair was required. Notice the boy, the postillion, astride the front left horse. Even a good driver needed help handling that kind of horse power. To accommodate these coach horses the Ship Inn had a suitably large stable.

This next colorized photo has a coach with four bay horses arriving at Ship Inn. To the right is the stable's hostler ready with a step ladder for passengers to use. There are at least four outside benches atop the coach that look to be between 9 to 12 feet above the dirt road. I don't think there were seat belts. The coach also has an enclosed compartment that presumably was for first class and surely cost extra. 

This card has a postmark of 17 November 1905 at 10 PM from Taunton, Somerset.

Have I ever sent you

this before. Isn't 

it sweet.  It is the

coach we rode on

to Lynton.  Passed

this inn on the 

(?)day.  bid the lo46-

(?)arrone.. Sorry not

have sent it before

                Olive

In the early 19th century more visitors came to Porlock for holidays on the coast or for hunting trips on Exmoor. The road from Lynton to Porlock, that later  became the A39, was first opened in 1843 but the steep hill must have been a deterrent to many tourists and the commercial trade so a few years later an enterprising local landowner decided to build an alternate road and charge a toll. This 4.2-mile scenic route, which offers panoramic views of Bristol Channel, has a lower gradient of 1 in 14 (7%). Surprisingly after it was built most horse-drawn wagons used Porlock Hill instead since it was free. However once motorcars became the new horseless carriages, the toll road proved a good deal as most early automobiles were too underpowered for Porlock Hill's steeper slope.

In this illustration three automobiles and a charabanc, an open-top motor coach for tourists, creep up or careen down Porlock Hill. The road appears to be unpaved with a dirt or gravel surface. The postcard has no postmark but the car styles look early 1920s to me. 

Dear John,

    This is a "bend" on one

of the hills we had to push

our bicycles up.  When

we were at the bottom

an old country man told

us "It be moil–n–arf

long," but we 

had to plod

along for about

3–n–arf miles

before we could

remount the faithful

steeds.  We are at Lawrence's

cottage now and the weather

has brightened up.

It has been hot 

and sunny to-day

Love from us all   Sylvia

P.S.  Please keep these cards for the album.

_ _ _

In this next photo postcard of Porlock Hill a single motor coach with luggage strewn on its top drives up the slope and there are clearly ruts in the road. The hill has been the cause of countless accidents. Along the narrow road there are two escape lanes to handle runaway vehicles that suffer brake failures. This card is postmarked 20 July 1927.

 

My last postcard is another colorized bird's eye-view photo captioned, "The Steep Gradient of Porlock Hill (1 in 4)". The road is paved with center marking lines as two automobiles follow a bus. A house with a front garden is just on the edge of a bend in the road, no doubt serving occasionally as an emergency safety net. 

This postcard was sent from Minehead, Somerset on 9 May 1956 at 8:30 PM to P.C. & Mrs. Rands of the village of Crick in in West Northamptonshire near Rugby. 

Wednesday

    We are having a lovely

holiday & enjoying the 

beautiful scenery.  I think

you will remember this

hill.  We came down it

in the old car but sighed

with relief when we got to the

bottom.  The weather today

is dull & rainy but up to 

now its been warm &

sunny.

            Kindest regards

            B & D Pattison

I have never been to Porlock or Exmoor but I have driven many times in just about every other part of the British Isles. It began many years ago when my bride and I set off from London for a honeymoon trip to the Hebrides off western Scotland. Until that day after our wedding I had actually never driven a car in Britain and I was far more nervous about driving than about getting married. And at the time my wife had never needed to drive car. However she did know the rules of British roads from cycling experience. (Her first driving lesson was behind the wheel of my Toyota truck, manual shift, on Georgia roads.) 

I soon learned several things about British roads. First, as best as I can tell, there are no straight roads anywhere that can go more than 5 or 10 miles without encountering a roundabout. Second, while traffic on motorways can be very fast, on the minor B-roads it is usually very, very, slow. And incredibly narrow. The big island of Britain is approximately 600 miles from the tiptop of Scotland to the southern Channel coast of England but driving that distance is not like an equivalent distance in America. In Britain every route is filled with twists and turns that require an expert navigator to figure out. Fortunately I married one. The beauty of roundabouts is that you can go round as often as you like until deciding which road to take, 

I presently live in western North Carolina, one of the mountainous regions of the United States, where our minor roads are both pretty twisty and often steep. But I can't think of any road that has a 1:4  gradient or is as celebrated on postcards as much as Porlock Hill and the Ship Inn have. I think these charming cards are all about the romance of adventure travel. It's one thing to brag about seeing a beautiful tropical beach or visiting a magnificent palace. But not many people can say I've driven, ridden, or walked up/down Porlock Hill and have the postcard to prove it. 

Promoting tourism is partly about making myths that linger on in collective memory. The original roadmakers in Porlock were probably only trying to save money by eliminating a few switchbacks. They'd be amazed to learn their precipitous road continues to captivate the imagination of British drivers today and still provide a cheap thrill just as it once did for tourists traveling on open stagecoaches. 

Porlock  

by Robert Southey (1774 – 1843)

 

                    Porlock! thy verdant vale so fair to sight,

                    Thy lofty hills which fern and furze imbrown,

                    The waters that roll musically down

                    Thy woody glens, the traveller with delight

                    Recalls to memory, and the channel grey

                    Circling its surges in thy level bay.

                    Porlock! I shall forget thee not,

                    Here by the unwelcome summer rain confined;

                    But often shall hereafter call to mind

                    How here, a patient prisoner, 'twas my lot

                    To wear the lonely, lingering close of day,

                    Making my sonnet by the alehouse fire,

                    Whilst Idleness and Solitude inspire

                    Dull rhymes to pass the duller hours away.

Robert Southey (1774 – 1843) was an English poet of the Romantic school, one of the so-called Lake Poets, and was Britain's Poet Laureate from 1813 until his death. Among many things he wrote was the first published story of "Goldilocks and the Three Bears". He also visited Porlock and probably stayed at the Ship Inn where he enjoyed a pint or two of ale by its fire. 

In our wonderful modern era 
we can experience riding up Porlock Hill
from the comfort of our own computer screen.
Here is Extreme Hill Climb: Exmoor Coaster up Porlock Hill
filmed from the front of the coach by OrsomM.
For a thrill watch out for marker 4:28 when the driver
encounters an oil slick on a steep curve.

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday

where everyone is taking the bus.

Horse Racing in Old Wien

The horse is a beautiful creature.
Its great strength, nimble agility, and noble form
have inspired countless artists through the ages.

Once upon a time,
this appreciation for the horse
was shared by most people in the world
because horses were an ordinary part of everyday life.

Yet few artists today
could match the skill of this artist
in drawing the personality of a horse.

 

 

 

 

These horses were the work
of my favorite postcard artist,
Fritz Schönpflug ( 1873 – 1951),
an Austrian artist who created hundreds
of wonderfully witty caricatures
of his beloved Wien (Vienna).
And Fritz clearly loved
visiting the racetrack.

 

 

The first image shows horses in a near collision during a harness race.  I'm not absolutely certain, but I believe Fritz Schönpflug's medium was water colors. His composition captures all the horses' excited movements and the drivers' colorful racing silks.

 

Harness racing was once a very popular sport, especially because like with all racing, gambling was involved. The horses are harnessed to a sulky, a lightweight two-wheel cart with a single seat for the driver. The horses are trained to pull with a specific gait, either as trotters or pacers, and not at a full gallop. Drivers have a whip, but it is only used to signal the horse with a tap. In Schönpflug's drawing we can see the horse on the right has a trotting gait with its diagonal hoofs paired in step, i.e. right front with left hind leg. This is the style typical in European harness racing.

 

This postcard was mailed on 24/6/1922, but Schönpflug painted it in 1909, as notated after his signature as 909. The royal profile on the stamp is the King of Spain, Alfonso XIII (1886-1941) and the postmark is from Barcolona.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

This second postcard by Fritz Schönpflug shows a group of horses and carts in a confused mix. From what I can understand of the older rules of harness racing, just before the start the drivers circle around each other striving to get the best position before the start call. I think that is what is happening here, and the horses are upset at the directions. In the olden days there was a starting tape across the track that could not be crossed until the judge released it. Today the sulkies line up behind a folding gate mounted on a motorized vehicle.

 

 

 

 

This last postcard of this series shows a rather portly driver being hoisted into his seat by two stable hands. His horse does not look happy. The Austro-Hungarian Empire was known for horsemanship, but that also included the kind that did not involve sitting on a saddle. I suspect that harness racing was a gentleman's sport in Schönpflug's era, and that older, less athletic men sometime indulged in it as a recreation.

 

One of the oldest racing tracks in Vienna is the Trabrennbahn Krieau which opened in 1878 in the Leopoldstadt district of old Wien. It's just next to the Prater, the famous public amusement park in Wien. Given its close proximity to the city center, I think this was the racetrack Fritz Schönpflug visited to find inspiration for this series on horse racing. 

 

Courtesy of Wikipedia, here is a photo of the racetrack at the Trabrennbahn Krieau showing some horse sulkies passing by the judges tower. The photo is from 2007 but today the track looks like it has fallen on hard times and the bleachers overlooking the track are in a state of decay.

Trabrennbahn Krieau, Wien, Austria
Source: Wikimedia

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The second image that starts this post today shows a more traditional race of horse and rider. Or in this case one horse who has become riderless by bucking off its jockey. The poor fellow flies through the air as his horse gives him the snake eye. Other riders rush past at what I am guessing is the finish line post.

 

This postcard has a postmark from Karlsruhe, Germany and was posted on 2 November 1912. The writer sends Herrn Kürt Ziegler "warmest greetings to the donkey and the elephant."

 

 

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This last postcard offers a scene from before the race with a jockey trying to mount his horse just as the animal takes exception to a man behind him. Perhaps this is the owner getting his horse's opinion about the merits of racing with this jockey. Fritz Schönpflug's signature dates this picture to 1909. 

 

This card was sent as a letter and the message is curiously in French. I believe the date is  31 Août or August 31, 1915. I say curious because in 1915 France was at war with Austria, but Schönpflug's postcards were sold in many countries and this was likely one purchased in France. 

 

 

 

Unlike the harness racing on dirt tracks, these horses are on turf. Following the Danube River, just a short distance walk east from the Trabrennbahn Krieau is the Rennbahn Freudenau, a racetrack for thoroughbred horse racing. This track opened in 1839 and was once the most prestigious venue for equestrian sports in Austria. Presently the racing seems to have moved, possibly because of a dispute over taxes. Horse racing is usually more about money than horses. 

 

 

Rennbahn Freudenau, Wien, Austria
Source: Wikimedia

 

I can't resist adding another image of horse racing at the Rennbahn Freudenau. This is a painting by  another Austrian artist, Carl Rudolf Huber, (1839-1896), entitled "Renntag in der Freudenau" which conveys a thrilling finish to a race at the Rennbahn Freudenau. I think Fritz's horses are better.

 

 

Renntag in der Freudenau
by Carl Rudolf Huber (1839-1896)
Source: Wikimedia

 

 

Here is a beautiful short video on the Rennstall Freudenau - Vienna/Austria.

It shows the horses and the grounds to better affect that still photos. 

 

 

 

 

 

I also found this video about a horse at the Trabrennbahn Krieau which one day decided to have his own race. The setup at the beginning is quick. How many times do you think this horse ran around the track?

 

 

 

 

 

Fritz Schönpflug artistry is apparent in his skillful rendering of horses. With quick brushstrokes he somehow manages to depict the character of an individual horse which helps us poor humans to understand  its great intelligence and virtue. I will have more of Schönpflug's equestrian work to feature in future posts. To see his artwork of Vienna's Fiaker coach horses, check out my story, Getting Around in Old Wien. 

 

 

 

This is my contribution to Sepia Saturday
where everyone always places a bet
on the sepia horse to win.