01 My Early Home

My earliest memories are of a large, serene meadow, the first home I can recall vividly. It was adorned with a clear pond, shaded by trees, bordered by rushes and water-lilies at one end, and overlooked by a grove of fir trees at the other. Beyond its confines, I could glimpse our master’s house and a plowed field. In my youth, nourished by my mother’s milk, I stayed close to her, frolicking by day and resting by her side at night. The pond was our refuge from the heat, and a cozy shed near the grove offered warmth during colder days.

Once weaned onto grass, my mother would leave during the day, returning each evening. Our meadow was shared with six other colts, older and nearly my size, forming my early companions. We indulged in the joys of youth, racing and playing in the field, although our games could turn rough with kicks and bites exchanged in the heat of the moment.

One particularly rowdy day was punctuated by my mother’s call. She imparted wisdom that would shape my character: despite the company I kept, I was urged to uphold the legacy of my lineage—my father’s renown, my grandfather’s victories at Newmarket, and my grandmother’s admirable temperament. My mother, never having resorted to biting or kicking, expected the same gentleness and integrity from me. She stressed the importance of good manners, a strong work ethic, and a kind demeanor, cautioning against adopting the less savory behaviors of my playmates. This guidance set the foundation for the values I would carry forward, aspiring to embody the virtues cherished by my family.