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Thursday, February 16, 2017

Dance Like The Irish

            I’m sure I’m not the only person who suddenly discovered Irish dance through the magical show Riverdance. I’d never seen anything like it: the thundering rhythmns, the swiftly moving feet, the immobility of their arms and shoulders. It was amazing.

I’ve come to learn that Irish dancing has been around for a long time. Nobody really knows when it started, but it’s said that the first music in Ireland was brought by the Tuatha De Danann (the skilled workers) who came to Ireland from the River Elbe area in Germany around about 1600 BC.  Dance is usually thought to start before music, so Irish dance is probably older than that. What it was like no one can say.

The Celts (or Keltoi) came much later, in BC 500, bringing their dances and ritual with them, later to be labeled pagan at the time of St. Patrick (ca. AD 431) and general Christianization, but the basic pagan movements remained a part of the developing Irish dance. Then there were the Vikings (1169) and the Anglo-Normans (1169-1172), the Normans introducing round dances. Little by little the stew that became Irish dance was assembled.

What exactly those elements looked like we don’t know. How Irish dancing came to have its distinct character of intricate steps and stillness of the head and shoulders, with the clatter of sound from the feet is a matter for discussion. Some say the contrast between the body and feet of the dancers was a result of the British prohibition of Irish traditional dancing because it interfered with the British goal of forcing the Irish to become English (and Protestant) as swiftly as possible. So the Irish, the story goes, did their dancing behind curtains that came halfway up the window. Thus passing British soldiers saw only people moving around the room, never guessing that feet were tapping and skipping behind the curtain.
A more likely explanation is that when the dancing masters who were traveling all over Ireland in the 18th century (before that, most of the dance was in the northern half of the island), they had to teach wherever space was available, and between British and church disapproval, there wasn’t much space for them. The Catholic Church did not approve of dancing, least of all when both sexes took part. They taught that women, in particular, who participated in dance gatherings were evil and enemies of the Lord. So dancing was hidden away. Sometimes the only space the dancing masters had to demonstrate was a table top. Given that space, intricate footwork became the focus, with arms held at the side. Dancing across the room was clearly impossible until later when, in large part thanks to those dancing masters, dance gained enough importance to take more space and Irish dance was able to reach the height of its perfection in the solo or step dances.


Partly thanks to Riverdance and Lord of the Dance Irish dancing which had already made its way to the United States with the flood of Irish immigrants in the mid-19th century, Irish dancing is now danced internationally, often competitively. Next month I’ll talk about some of the kinds of dance—the shoes the dancer wears often shows which dances will be performed—and the music and costumes.

Tuesday, February 14, 2017

A Short Valentine's History




I've a story brewing in Regency England, set over Valentine's Day. And that means finding out what the celebration was really like--but it also means going back in time to really figure out the holiday. (For it was indeed once a Holy-Day.)

Like many holidays, Valentine’s Day has roots in ancient pagan celebration. The Roman festival of Lupercalia was held at the ides of February and was, a fertility festival dedicated to Faunus, the Roman god of agriculture and to the Roman founders Romulus and Remus. (This is also the Greek god Pan, meaning this was a lively festival, Pan being what he was.) Pope Gelasius did away with the god's holiday and set February 14 to be the Feast of St. Valentine instead.

The question is—which Valentine is being sainted and feasted?

According to the Catholic Encyclopedia, there were at least three early Christian saints named Valentine—it was a popular name. All three candidates were said to have been martyred on February 14, and the reasons for the sainthood are more myth than history.

One story has St. Valentine marrying soldiers even thought Claudius II had prohibited marriage for young men, claiming bachelors made better soldiers. It should be noted such a marriage ban was never issued, and that Claudius II actually told his soldiers to take two or three women for themselves after the Roman victory over the Goths.

Another tale, added centuries later, has Valentine, imprisoned by Claudius II, falling in love with the daughter of his jailer, and before he is executed sending her a letter signed "from your Valentine."
And yet another has St. Valentine executed for his Christian love and refusing to renounce his religion—which is far more likely.

The Valentine added to to the calendar of saints was most likely was buried on the Via Flaminia and his relics were kept in the San Valentino in Rome. In the Middle Ages, this was an important site for pilgrims, but  the relics were transferred to the Church of Santa Prassede, and some made their way to the Whitefriar Street Carmelite Church in Dublin.

While the Roman feast for Faunus was associated with fertility, it was not until the 14th century that the Christian feast day became associated with love. UCLA medieval scholar Henry Ansgar Kelly gives Chaucer the credit for this in his book, Chaucer and the Cult of Saint Valentine. In 1381, to honor the engagement of Richard II and Anne of Bohemia, Chaucer penned "The Parliament of Fowls," linking the royal engagement to what was held to be the start of the mating season of birds and St. Valentine's Day, “For this was sent on Seynt Valentyne’s day / Whan every foul cometh ther to choose his mate,”
 
While Chaucer might have linked this idea in words, it’s also possible he was simply following a popular pattern. Written valentine letters—those that have come down to us in history—appear from around 1400 and may have been around earlier but might not have survived.  After his capture at the Battle of Agincourt, Charles, Duke of Orleans, wrote a valentine to his wife while he was imprisoned in the Tower of London. About sixty poems from the duke written in the early 1400’s are now in the manuscript collection at the British Library in London. In a letter sent in Norfolk in 1477, Margery Brews describes John Paston as ‘my right well beloved Valentine’.

Shakespeare also has Ophelia sing to Hamlet, “Tomorrow is Saint Valentine’s day/All in the morning betime,/And I a maid at your window,To be your Valentine.

By the Sixteenth Century, written valentines were commonplace and by the Seventeenth Century, it was a widespread tradition in England for friends and sweethearts to exchange gifts and notes on February 14. In Norfolk, 'Jack' Valentine (or Father Valentine or Snatch Valentine) knocked on the rear door of the house and left sweets and presents for children. Although he did leave treats, he could also use these to snatch up unsuspecting children.

The exchange of cards or letters exploded in England in the late 1700’s and early 1800’s.

The Ipswich Journal of 23rd February 1805 reported: On Valentine’s Day the General Two-penny Post Office received 80,000 letters – an increase from last year of 20,000.  The amount of 80,000 letters is 686£ 13s 4d.” This was an era in which the receiver of the letter paid for postage, unless the postage had been paid in advance—so a gift of a letter could be a considerable expense.

Handwritten letters were soon to be replace, however. And Valentine's Day was heading into the romantic holiday we now know--a day to woo and wed.

The British Museum currently holds what is though to be the oldest printed Valentine's card, published in January 1797 by John Fairburn of 146, Minories, London. It has been “pierced to produce a lace effect in the corners and is decorated with cupids, doves and flowers which were probably hand coloured after printing.” The verse printed states: 

"Since on this ever Happy day,/All Nature's full of Love and Play
Yet harmless still if my design,/'Tis but to be your Valentine."

The card was sent by Catherine Mossday to Mr Brown of Dover Place, Kent Road, London. Inside a handwritten message reads:  “Mr Brown, As I have repeatedly requested you to come I think you must have some reason for not complying with my request, but as I have something particular to say to you I could wish you make it all agreeable to come on Sunday next without fail and in doing you will oblige your well wisher. Catherine Mossday.”  It rather sounds like poor Catherine was an unhappy lover, but her heart was in the right place.

While no one can truly date the origin of the heart shape we use so often today, many scholars argue the symbol has its roots in the writings of Galen and Aristotle, who described the human heart as having three chambers with a small dent in the middle. In the 14th century, Guido da Vigevano created drawings featuring a heart that resembles that described by Aristotle. The shape became a symbol of romance and medieval courtly love and grew popular during the Renaissance when used in religious art depicting the Sacred Heart of Christ, or as one of the four suits in playing cards. By the 18th and 19th centuries, it had become a recurring motif in love notes and Valentine’s Day cards.


For those lovers who did not have the gift of art or poetry, booklets came out in the late 1700’s and 1800’s with verses that could be used. Kemmish's Annual and Universal Valentine Writer was printed in London in 1797, and Cupid's Annual Charter; or, St. Valentine's Festival was published in 1815 and offered poetry that could be copied and sent. And several other such booklets came out.

The full onslaught of valentine’s cards, however, began in the 1840s when Esther A. Howland began selling the mass-produced valentine cards in America made with “real lace, ribbons and colorful pictures known as ‘scrap.’”

In 1861, John Cadbury, who had opened a tea and coffee shop in Birmingham in 1822, expanded into chocolate manufacturing and packaged his chocolates in the world's first heart-shaped box for Valentine's Day.

The Victorians also started the idea of 'secret admirers' with the idea it bad luck to sign the cards. And they started the tradition of sending red roses, said to be the favorite flower of the goddess Venus. For while the Persian idea of the "language of flowers" had come to Europe far earlier, the Victorians popularized all sorts of “languages of love and flirtation.”

For the Regency era--unless one lived in Norfolk--it would be church and perhaps cards exchanged. And oh, those letters would arrive.

In 1969, the Catholic Church revised its liturgical calendar and removed the feast days of saints whose historical origins were questionable. St. Valentine was one of the casualties. But the date is still celebrated world-wide.

Friday, February 10, 2017

Horseback Riding in Regency England


by Donna Hatch
www.donnahatch.com 
Riding sidesaddle was the quintessence of good breeding for the Regency lady. More than a mode of transportation or a way to relax and get fresh air and exercise, it also provided a prime time to socialize—most notably with gentlemen ;-) . A lady riding sidesaddle well, also spoke, without words, one's status. Prior to Elizabethan England, ladies rode astride or sat in an awkward riding seat and hung on for dear life.

During the 17th Century, ladies started riding sidesaddle, also known as aside. Even Queen Elizabeth herself, known as the "virgin queen" because she never married, was an accomplished horsewoman who rode sidesaddle.


A lady competently riding sidesaddle, combined with a stylish riding habit, spoke louder than words of her social standing. Regency ladies had to take riding lessons, have time to practice the art of riding, and be wealthy enough to afford a horse trained as a lady's mount. Work horses could simply graze; riding horses needed feed, grooms, tack, farrier fees, etc. It became a mark of distinction and admiration.
From A Young Lady’s Equestrian Manual, published 1838:
RIDING on Horseback is, confessedly, one of the most graceful, agreeable, and salutary of feminine recreations. No attitude, perhaps, can be regarded as more elegant than that of a lady in the modern side-saddle; nor can any exercise be deemed capable of affording more rational and innocent delight, than that of the female equestrian.
Little girls learned to ride astride on a pony or donkey. As they grew and improved their skills, they learned to ride aside and usually changed to riding a horse. Thought in urban areas, riding donkeys were common, but riding in London require a beautiful horse, since in London, one rode to see and be seen, as well as get a little relaxing exercise. 

Few grown ladies rode astride even in the country. It was viewed as unladylike and scandalous. It was probably also a declaration of one's incompetence at riding sidesaddle.
Despite what you may have heard, riding sidesaddle is actually comfortable. The seat and pommel are and were padded. One sites with one's back straight like sitting in a chair with the legs crossed or sitting sideways on the bed or couch with a knee propped up higher than the other. Sidesaddle is not that different.
Mounting a horse is easy. One must simply use a mounting block or other object such as a stile or boulder or tree stump to stand on. Having a gorgeous man give one a "leg up" is always a good idea, though ;-) Horses trained to be a lady's mount will hold still while the lady mounts.
Riding, whether astride or sidesaddle, is more about balance and keeping one’s center of gravity than the saddle--just look at bareback riders and even bronco riders. A well-trained, well-behaved horse and a skilled rider are capable of doing anything sidesaddle that can be done astride. Georgian and Regency frequently "rode to hounds," a fast-paced race through the country, leaping objects such as fences, hedges, and fallen trees to keep up with the hounds as they chased a fox.
Though I occasionally see images from the Regency Era show ladies riding with a sort of seat belt wrapped around them, it was uncommon. Certainly it appeared in engravings which suggests they were used, but I doubt any lady who prided herself an expert would have been caught dead using one. Besides, you can’t always believe what you see in pictures. As a harpist, I am often surprised (disgusted?) at how many harpists are depicted playing the harp on right side instead of the left, or even from the column side rather than the soundboard side. Artists aren’t necessary expert on their subjects, especially if drawing from memory.

When writing my soon-to-be released novella, TheMatchmaking Game, I turned to A Young Lady’s Equestrian Manual, to double check the details I needed to write an accurate scene. when the hero helps the heroine mount her horse. Here is what I found: 
The horse being thus left to the lady’s government, it is proper, that, in passing her hand through the reins she should not have suffered them to become so loose as to prevent her, when her hand is on the crutch, from having a light, but steady bearing on the bit, and thus keeping the horse to his position during the process of mounting.
She next places her left foot firmly in the right hand of the groom, or gentleman, in attendance who stoops to receive it. The lady then puts her left hand on his right shoulder; and, straightening her left knee, bears her weight on the assistant’s hand; which he gradually raises (rising, himself, at the same time) until she is seated on the saddle. During her elevation, she steadies, and even, if necessary, partly assists herself towards the saddle by her hands; one of which, it will be recollected, is placed on the crutch, and the other on her assistant’s shoulder. It is important that she should keep her foot firm and her knee straight.
After ensuring I had my facts straight, I wrote my scene like this (this is when the hero and heroine, childhood friends, first realize there may be more between them than friendship):
    How kind of you to notice,” she said dryly. “Give your major a leg up?”
    With a smile at her reference to the honorary rank he’d given her at the ball, Evan dismounted. He laced his fingers together so she could mount her horse. A pert smile came his way before she placed her left foot in his cupped hands. She put one hand on his shoulder to steady herself as he boosted her up. Her soft body brushed his arm and chest. Her scent, something soft and feminine he could not name, tingled his senses. Mere inches away, her smooth cheek and moist lips taunted him. His chest squeezed and his knees wobbled. Awareness of her, of the desirable woman she had become, rendered him immobile. She glanced at him, one brow raised, and a half smile curving those luscious lips. A burning energy formed in the middle of his stomach and shot outward like sunbursts.
    She parted those lips and spoke. “Am I too heavy for a big, strong man like you?”
    “Er, no. Of course not.” He cleared his throat again and boosted her up with a bit too much force. 
    Despite his aggressive boost, she placed her right leg over the leg rest of the side saddle and found her balance. She settled the long, heavy skirts of her riding habit around her while he helped position her left foot in the stirrup.
    With the reins in one hand and her riding crop in the other, she eyed him with an expectant lift to her brows. “Shall we?”
The Matchmaking Game will be released April 18, 2017 and is available now for pre-order here:

Sources:
Much of this information came through years of research. However, some recent sources are:
Shannon Donnelly on Historical Hussies
Jill Ottman on the Jane Austen Centre of North America
Kathy Blee on Ladies Ride Aside


Friday, February 3, 2017

The Persuit of Pleasure in Georgian England

by Guest Blogger Jenna Jaxon

Georgian London was a wild and wooly place. Men gambled and drank to excess, losing fortunes in the popular gaming hells. Noblemen raced all manner of vehicles, for wagers or simply for the sheer fun of it. Duels were common and fought regularly to defend one’s honor. And the sex trade ran rampart throughout the city. Current estimates say that one in five women in London were prostitutes.
Women became prostitutes for a variety of reasons: women who had nowhere to turn to after the death of a husband might begin to sell her wares; young girls just come to town could be tricked into joining a bawdy house; children as young as eight years old were sometimes sold into prostitution. London was considered the most depraved city of the age.

As there was a class system for all English people, there was also a hierarchy for whoring. On the bottom most rung was the common streetwalker, also called a “two-penny bunter,” who did her business up against a building or fence but out in the public, albeit dark, street. Next up the ladder was the harlot who worked from rented rooms or a lower-class bawdy house (run by a bawd or female procuress). If a woman were very comely, she might find herself in a higher-class establishment (like the House of Pleasure in my series), often called a “nunnery” (shades of Shakespeare’s Hamlet!), where a woman would be taught manners, how to speak properly, and how to give men the most pleasure possible. The highest place a courtesan could aspire to was the patronage of a nobleman who would keep her in style until he grew tired of her, at which point she would move on to the next wealthy “protector.”

Although some women made fortunes at their trade—it is estimated that prostitutes of at least the middling sort could earn over 400 pounds a year—most women who fell into this life most often lived hard lives (save for the highest valued courtesans), dying in their early thirties usually of venereal diseases such as gonorrhea or syphilis.

Changes did not begin to occur in London’s tolerance for such vices until the early 19th century, when street lights were installed (banishing the dark alleys) and the beginnings of the modern day police force began to patrol the streets and take their responsibilities seriously. By the Victorian era, prostitution had severely diminished as middle-class morality was enforced more stringently. Georgian debauchery had met its match in Queen Victoria.


Friday, January 20, 2017

It's All Greek to Me


Guest Blogger Jennifer Moore

The Greek War of Independence is a topic I was unfamiliar with, but now I can’t get enough of it.

To set the stage, in 1824 the Ottoman Empire ruled Greece—and a good chunk of the Mesopotamian and Balkan world. During this time, Greeks weren’t allowed to ride horses, carry weapons, or own property, unless they forsook their religion and joined Islam. Many did. But the majority refused. The Turks demanded high taxes, and even worse, they practiced devshirme—or child taking. Children who seemed strong enough were taken from their families to serve in the Sultan’s Janissary Corps. And sometimes pretty girls were taken for the Sultan’s harem. Parents or other family members who resisted were killed immediately.

Some of the most famous players in the war were:

Lord Byron, a little eccentric, as we all know, but he helped organize and fund the revolution,




Laskarina Bouboulina, a naval commander, (Yeah, a woman! How cool is that?)







Theodoros Kolkotronis, a freedom fighter or klepht.  (More about those guys later)

and my personal favorite: Petros Mavromichalis (Petrobey), the leader (or bey) of the Maniots.


The Maniots live in a rural area of the Greek Peloponnese, a spot place difficult to get to overland, especially for a Turkish army. And the Maniots controlled the little harbors and hidden coves of their coast. They were fiercely independent warriors descending from Sparta, and still have a reputation of being unpredictable. With few natural resources, their main source of income was piracy.

Here’s a picture of Petrobey’s hometown, Limeni Village, located on a small cove used to hide ships.


The different Maniot clans would declare blood feuds, fighting against enemy families until every male in the family was dead. They lived (and still do) in tower houses where they could hole up and wait out a blood feud.

It turns out these tower houses were great for holding off armies of Turks as well.

But in 1824, the most important thing about the Maniots is they were free from Turkish rule. The Turks simply couldn’t afford the manpower necessary to invade the area, and probably hoped the Maniots would just fight among themselves and leave the rest of the empire alone. They were wrong.

A secret society, the Filiki Eteria sent an emissary to Petrobey, telling him of a planned Greek revolt. The man (whose name we don’t know) was enlisting all the regions of Greece to fight as one.

Petrobey, as leader of the Mani managed to unite his people, and they raised a flag of freedom from Tsímova—later renamed Areopolis (after Ares, the god of war). Then marched across the country, eventually defeating the Turks.


Here’s an image of the flag. Nike e thanatos—victory or death. Tan e epi tas—that’s from the ancient Spartan motto: on your shield or carrying it.

They were helped by the klephts, bandits who lived and trained as soldiers in secret mountain camps.

Here’s a picture of a group of kelphts. They look funny to us, but  kilts and puff balls on their shoes were worn with pride. And Greece’s modern army uniforms are variations of these uniforms.


With all this rich history, it was difficult to know where to set my book, but in the end, the Maniots won out.



A Place for Miss Snow
Miss Diana Snow is everything a British chaperone should be—she finds satisfaction in order and depends wholly upon the rules of decorum as she negotiates the isle of Greece with her young charge. But Miss Snow's prim and proper exterior masks a disquieting past: orphaned and alone in the world, she has only her stiff upper lip to rely on. When a brief encounter with a handsome stranger challenges her rules of propriety, Diana is unwittingly drawn into an adventure that will turn her ordered world upside down.

Alexandros Metaxas is a Greek spy working to recruit individuals to the cause of revolution. His mission seems to be going perfectly until he encounters Diana Snow, a captivating—if slightly cold—beauty. When their paths cross again, the ill-fated reunion threatens all Alex has been fighting for. But more importantly, it places Diana's life in jeopardy. There is only one way to save her: they must put themselves at the mercy of the most powerful pirate family in the Mediterranean. Soon, Diana is plunged into a fantastic world of gypsy curses, blood feuds, and unexpected romance. But when a bitter vendetta places her in mortal danger, will she have the courage to fight for life and love?

Jennifer Moore is a passionate reader and writer of all things romance due to the need to balance the rest of her world that includes a perpetually traveling husband and four active sons, who create heaps of laundry that are anything but romantic. She suffers from an acute addiction to 18th and 19th century military history and literature. Jennifer has a B.A. in Linguistics from the University of Utah and is a Guitar Hero champion. She lives in northern Utah with her family, but most of the time wishes she was on board a frigate during the Age of Sail.

authorjmoore.com





Tuesday, January 10, 2017

Carried Away by Carriages



            In this era of the auto, we look back on carriages as romantic—but in the English Regency, the carriage was practical, sporting, and a sign of status. It was also an era in which technical improvements resulted in faster, lighter and more comfortable carriages.
            In 1804, Obadiah Elliott of Lambeth invented the elliptic spring, lightening the weight and eliminating the need for perches. Samuel Hobson improved carriage shapes by lowering the wheels in 1820. At the same time, the engineer Jon Loudon McAdam introduced his process to pave roads to create a hard, smooth surface and double the speed at which carriages could travel.
            Perhaps the most popular of carriages for those who could afford fashionable vehicles were the phaetons, the sporting curricles, and the landau and barouche.
            Phaetons first appeared around 1788 and the Prince of Wales—then a dashing young man—popularized their use in the 1790's. They were noted for being built very high over the body, with four wheels (large wheels in back and smaller wheels in the front). They sported two types of under-carriage. A perch phaeton had a straight or slightly curved central beam that connected the two axles. The 'superior' crane-neck phaeton offered a heavier construction of iron with two beams and hoops which allowed the front wheels to turn.

            Ladies as well as gentlemen drove spider, park and ladies phaetons that were often drawn by ponies. Lady Archer, Lady Stormont, Mrs. Garden and even the Princess of Wales were noted whips. Among the gentlemen, Sir John Lade, Lord Rodney, Charles Finch and Lord Onslow set the pace.
            The curricle, a two-wheel and more sporting vehicle, came into fashion in the 1800's. The sponsorship of the Prince of Wales—who was becoming too fat to climb into his high perch phaeton—promoted the curricle’s popularity. Horses were attached to the light-weight body by harness connected pole, with a steel bar that attached to pads on the horse's back to support the pole. The curricle offered seats for two, with a groom's seat behind.
            By the 1800's, the sociable had evolved into a carriage named the sociable-landau or simply the landau. This carriage was drawn by a pair of horses, and driven with post boys (riders on the horses) or by a coachman if a box seat had been built onto the body. Hoods could be raised, front and back, so that the landau resembled a coach, or the hood could be lowered in fine weather. Luke Hopkinson of Holborn introduced the Briska-landau, which offered seats that rose six inches then the top was put down. Canoe-landaus offered curved, shallow bodies and were sometimes called Sefton-landaus, after the Earl of Sefton.
            The barouche did not gain in popularity until its heavy body and low build had been modified. When Mr. Charles Buxton founded the Whip Club in 1808 (which became the Four-In-Hand Club the following spring), its members drove "...fifteen barouches and landaus with four horses to each...." to the first June meeting on a Monday in Park Lane. Because its members often drove barouches, the Whip Club sometimes came to be called the Barouche Club.
            The barouche required large, 'upstanding' horses, with impressive action. It could be driven from the box or with postillion riders, and could accommodate a pair, four or six horses. Two passengers could be seated in the body, and a seat provided comfort for two grooms.
            Many noted whips designed their own carriages, which is how we come by the Stanhope Gig, made popular after 1815 to the design of the Hon. Fitzroy Stanhope. Carriages also bore the name of their builders. The Tilbury Gig of 1820 was designed and made by Tilbury the coach-builder. Unlike other gigs it had no boot, and the rib-chair body was supported entirely on seven springs, making it a popular vehicle for use on rough roads.
            Other carriages in use during the Regency included a drag, which was the slang term for a gentleman's private coach. These were built for four-in-hand teams and copied the mail coach with seats inside the coach and on the roof. Gentlemen drove their drags to race meetings so the carriage could act as a grandstand. A convenient tray in the boot could even be lowered to create a table for picnics.
            By 1815, the heavy traveling coach of the previous century had been replaced by the traveling chariot, a light-body vehicle usually driven by postillions or post boys who rode two of the horses harnessed to the carriage. These vehicles served as the post-chaise carriages that could be hired at various posting houses. At a cost of one shilling and six pence per mile for a pair of horses—and double that for four horses—a post-chaise was not an economical method of travel. They earned the slang name 'Yellow Bounder' for the almost inevitable yellow bodies.
            After 1830, the increasing popularity of the railroad meant the end of the carriage for long-distance travel. But until the advent of the automobile, carriages continued to flourish in type and design. But beauty in shape and color for carriages and horses are still symbols of wealth and leisure.

SOURCES:
The Elegant Carriage, 1979, Marylian Watney
Horse & Carriage, 1990, J.N.P. Watson
The History of Coaches, 1877, George A. Thrupp
The Coachmakers, 1977, Harold Nockolds