[F]Youatt, in his valuable work entitled "The Horse," truly says that changes from cold to heated foul air are as dangerous to the animal as from heat to cold.
[F]Youatt, in his valuable work entitled "The Horse," truly says that changes from cold to heated foul air are as dangerous to the animal as from heat to cold.
As a railway carriage is constructed on springs to soften all ordinary jolts, and with buffers to alleviate any violent concussion;—as the human mind is gifted with a buoyancy which enables it cheerfully to meet any trifling vexation, and with sentiments of religion which maintain its serenity under the severest afflictions, so do the pastern above a horse's foot and the frog beneath it protect the body of the animal from the continual slight concussions and occasional severe ones to which, in ordinary and extraordinary exertions, it is liable to be subjected.
The pastern, like the instep of those Spanish women whose heels in walking scarcely touch the ground, gives grace and elasticity to every step; indeed, in the walk, trot, canter, and gallop of a horse we clearly see the spring of his pasterns softening the movements of their own creation.
But while the career of the body is thus renderedsafe and delightful, the interior mechanism of the foot is protected by one of those simple, beautiful, mechanical arrangements which in every direction demonstrate to us the superintending providence of an Almighty Power.
If the sole, front, sides, and back of a hunter's foot had been created as solid and as inelastic as the gold or silver case of what is called a hunting watch, the interior of the former, like that of the latter, would receive material damage from a heavy blow against the ground.
The coating, however, of hard horn or armour which shields the front and sides of the sensitive foot from any obstacle in its course, does not equally extend to that portion of it in the rear, out of harm's way, called the heels, beneath which we find on examination a triangular cushion of an Indiarubber-like composition, which, on concussion, or even by compression, acting as a wedge, forces the heels that contain it, outwards.
By this beautiful arrangement, when a hunter with his front legs extended, jumping over a broad fence, lands on a hard macadamised road upon his two fore-feet, the heels which receive the greater portion of the concussion are expanded by it in exact proportion to the weight of the bodies of the horse and rider, and the violence of the blow being thus alleviated, the sensitive mechanism of the foot is shielded from injury.And yet, strange to say, simply by the act of shoeing, this merciful protection in every country in the world is, generally speaking, destroyed!
If a mischievous or ignorant clown were to drive a nail through a chronometer, he would only destroy an insensible and inanimate work of art; but when a man of wealth, intelligence, and science—the proprietor of a valuable horse, on whose safe going his comfort, and occasionally his life depends—deliberately nails to the poor creature's living, expansible feet four obdurate, inexpansible iron shoes, he is really guilty of an act of barbarity and barbarism which would scarcely be expected from a savage, for besides instantly impeding the expansive apparatus of the foot, he effectually stops its growth.
Under this treatment the young horse, by day and by night, not only lives in shoes which, though they may not hurt him very much in the stable, always pinch him "in his utmost need," or rather speed; but, like a Chinese lady, he outgrows his own feet, until, on attaining his full size, it is discovered that his body, which, like that of Dives, his master, has always worn fine clothing, and has fared sumptuously every day, has nothing but a set of colt's feet with contracted heels to carry it!
To prevent, or at least to alleviate the sufferings acute and chronic just described, Mr. Turner, of Regent Street,introduced the unilateral system of what he called "half-nailing," which consists in affixing the shoe by nails on the outside and round the toe only, leaving the inner side totally unsecured.
By theorists it was, of course, asserted that this arrangement would prove to be defective and inefficient. In practice, however, not only is the contrary the result, but, on nearly thirty years' experience, we are enabled to maintain the apparent paradox that in riding along or across any and every description of country, a shoe, whenhalf-nailed, is more secure than whenwhollynailed; in fact, that it is insecure almost in proportion as it is tightly nailed, and secure in proportion as it is loosely nailed.
The reasons are obvious.
When a horse is standing still, or lying fast asleep in his stable, his shoes are, of course, firmer when wholly than when only half-nailed. So soon, however, as, mounted by say a heavy man, he begins to move, there commences, out of sight of every human eye, a desperate, and in deep ground a subterranean struggle between the works of Nature and of Vulcan the blacksmith, or, in plainer words, between the expansive efforts of the frog and hoof and the arbitrary metallic shoe that is restraining them.
At each step the contest is renewed; and while, byan acceleration of pace, its violence is increased, the domination of the tyrant at every stride is infinitesimally diminished in consequence of the nails, which have to bear the whole brunt of the battle, becoming looser and looser, until, by a jump on hard ground, or some other violent concussion, the expansive power of the foot bursts the impaired fetters that have been restraining it, and the poor animal, thus suddenly emancipated from his shoe, leaves it either buried in mud, or, with every nail in its socket, glittering on the grass behind him.
Now, under the system ofhalf-nailing, the battle we have just very faintly described does not take place. The foot can't struggle against nails which don't exist; and accordingly, just as the pliant reed remains erect after the storm that in its immediate neighbourhood has torn up by its roots the sturdy oak, so does the half-nailed shoe, by allowing the horse's foot to expand, perform by gentleness what violence has failed to effect; and therefore it remains, throughout a severe run, hard and fast, where Vulcan placed it.
The Greeks and Romans did not shoe their horses, but, for long journeys, were in the habit of protecting, by leathern sandals, strengthened by iron, and ornamented with silver or gold, their feet, to the substance and shape of which they paid great attention.
"The first thing," wrote Xenophon more than 2200 years ago,"that ought to be looked to in a horse is his foot. For as a house would be of no use, though all the upper parts of it were beautiful, if the lower parts of it had not a proper foundation, so a horse would not be of any use in war if he had tender feet, even though he should have all other good qualities, for his good qualities could not be made of any available use."
"The first thing," wrote Xenophon more than 2200 years ago,"that ought to be looked to in a horse is his foot. For as a house would be of no use, though all the upper parts of it were beautiful, if the lower parts of it had not a proper foundation, so a horse would not be of any use in war if he had tender feet, even though he should have all other good qualities, for his good qualities could not be made of any available use."
In many parts of the world the horse, though severely worked, has never yet been shod. Indeed, in some of the towns in South America it would still cost more money to shoe a horse than was paid to purchase him.
Although of all axioms no one is more trite and true than that "there is a right and a wrong way of doing everything," yet our readers will hardly be prepared to learn that the Anglo-Saxon on one side of the Atlantic roughs his horse in the right way, and on the other side in the wrong way!
In the United States, and especially in Canada, the surface of which for half a dozen months in every year, white as a bridal plum-cake, is composed of snow or ice, thetoeas well as the two heels of each shoe are roughed; and as, in consequence thereof, the horse on every foot stands upon a tripod, his sinews and muscles not onlyremain in their proper position all the time he is in a stable, but while crossing a level country the sole of each foot when it presses the ground is parallel to its surface.
In ascending a hill the front cog, in descending a hill the two hind cogs, and in traversing a plain the three cogs, of each shoe catch firm hold of the ground; and accordingly the horse, whether in ascent, descent, or on level ground, works in so true a position, and is so efficiently roughed, that out of deep snow he can, at any gradient, gallop suddenly upon what is called "glare ice," almost as hard as iron, without the slightest danger to himself or his rider.
Now, in England, generally speaking, horses are most unscientifically roughed on their heelssolely, which not only at once, even in the stable, especially when the outside cogs are unequally turned up, throws the mechanism of their feet and fetlocks out of gear—it not only forces them while travelling on a dead level into a false position, but, after all this maltreatment, the poor animal finds out that he is very inefficiently roughed.
For instance, in descending a hill, only the cog or cogs of the heels of each foot, which can never be placed parallel to the ground, take hold of it. In ascending, his case is infinitely worse; for, as it becomes necessary, especially when he is drawing a very heavy load, thathe should raise his heels off the road in order to stick into it his toes, he then discovers that while the hind portion of his shoe which he abstains from using has been roughed for him, thefrontpart, which, for the ascent, especially requires to be roughed, has been left untouched. Even to gallop a horse, shod in the English fashion, over level ice, is exceedingly dangerous; for although, so long as by a powerful bit he is forced on his haunches, the two cogs at the back of each shoe take hold, yet, if the poor animal be allowed to drop his head in order to propel himself at his utmost speed by his unroughed toes, they immediately slip from under him, and he thus experiences a defect, which it is astonishing should have been so long perpetrated by a nation who, at an enormous expenditure of time, intelligence, and money, have succeeded in rearing a breed of horses, the finest in the world, coveted by every foreigner, but which they persist in rudely roughing in the wrong way!
If a saddle does not come down upon the withers and back-bone of a horse, the closer it approaches them the firmer it fits; and as, in the matrimonial alliance whichexists between the quadruped and the biped, whatever is agreeable to the one is usually so to the other, a roomy saddle, on which the rider can sit with ease and comfort, is also beneficial to the horse, because it spreads the weight he has to carry over a large surface, and the pressure per square inch being thereby diminished, a sore back is less likely to be created, and per contra, for the very same reason, the human skin is less likely to be rubbed.
Less than a century ago it was deemed necessary by hunting men to tie their saddle to their horse's tail by a crupper, which, at every jump, must have compressed the vertebræ of the poor animal, like the joints of a telescope when slightly closed by a jerk. The object of this barbarous apparatus was to prevent the saddle slippingforwards, whereas, by the opposite apparatus of the present day, a breast-plate has been substituted, to prevent the saddle from slippingbackwards. The difference between these two conflicting precautions has been caused by the difference in the breeding, and consequently in the size of the horse's belly, which, in the time of our ancestors, was lusty, instead of being—as in the present day, when many hunters are racers, and all in high condition—fine and slim.
When a horse is exceedingly light in the carcase, or as it is technically termed "tucked up," it is usual amonggrooms and riders to girth the poor creature as tightly as they can, in order, as much as is possible, to relieve the breast-plate; but instead of assisting it, the grievous mistake first paralyses its action, and then, if it be weak, breaks it, for the following simple reasons.
If a horse, with a belly tapering like a cone, be tightly girthed, his saddle, whenever it slips backwards (which it must do in ascending a steep hill or bank), remains hard and fast on the part of the back to which it has retired, straining against the breast-plate, whose straps have not power to make it re-ascend the cone: whereas if, on the contrary, the saddle of a light-carcased horse be unusually loosely girthed, although in ascending an acclivity the saddle slips backwards until it is retained by the breast-plate, yet, the instant the horse either descends a hill, or gallops upon level ground, his own action, combined with the power of the breast-plate straps affixed to the saddle and girths, put an end to all strain upon the latter, by drawing the loosely-girthed saddle forwards into its proper position. And it is for this reason that horses of all shapes ought to be girthed less tightly when they carry breast-plates than when they are without them, and always two holes looser when they are light-carcased than when they are lusty.
Formerly it was the usual custom in the hunting-field,as it still is on the road, to secure the saddle by two narrow girths, each buckled on either side to one strap. This arrangement has lately been superseded by what are called Fitzwilliam girths, composed of one of double breadth with two buckles at each end, and of a narrow one encircling and secured to the broad one by two loops, through which it passes.
By this admirable alteration perfect safety is obtained; for, as the broad girth is secured to four straps, if, say one on each side burst at a leap, the other two remain efficient; and even if all break, those of the narrow girth retain the broad one in its place; while, on the other hand, if the straps of the broad girth hold, the narrow one is prevented by the loops above described from dangling, in case either of its two buckles should give way.
Whereas, by the old arrangement, if out of four straps any one burst at a leap, its girth instantly dangled, leaving the safety, and possibly the life of the rider, to depend on only two straps, by the rupture of either one of which he would suddenly, without his knowledge, be riding, possibly at a large fence, without any girths at all.
But, although hunting men have gained a step or stride by this new fashioned girth, they have lately, as if to balance the account, retrograded to the wisdom oftheir ancestors by discarding the modern stuffed saddle-flap in favour of that ancient hard one which for many years has been used only by postilions.
For ordinary riding, and especially for ordinary riders, a quantity of stuffing in the form of a sausage, in front of their shins, no doubt retains them in their seat.
In hunting, however, this retention has for many years been producing strains of the large muscles of the thigh, which, although of common occurrence, none of the sufferers could very clearly account for. On reflection, the cause is obvious.
In riding over a large fence, or in any sudden blunder the horse may commit, the rider, without losing his seat, is liable to be thrown, body and bones, forward two or three inches, and accordingly on the plain flat hard flap he glides onwards without inconvenience or injury to the exact extent required.
But when, instead of being able to do so, his knees and shins are suddenly arrested by the stuffing immediately in front of them, the momentum of his body causes it to bend forwards on the pivot formed by his knees, on the same principle as a cart-load of earth propelled along a new railway embankment is chucked over its extremity on being suddenly stopped by a log of timber placed there transversely for that very object; and accordingly, the great muscles of the thigh whichhave to sustain this conflict between the moveable and immoveable parts of one frame are often so severely strained, that they require, for many months, to be bandaged by a leathern strap.
The plain flap is considerably lighter than the stuffed one. It is a sovereign cheaper; in case it gets into a brook it dries easier; and after all, it is infinitely more agreeable to ride on. For all these good reasons, in Leicestershire, Northamptonshire, and Lincolnshire, which may be termed the region in England of large fences, it has been generally adopted. However, as Peter in his 'Letters to his Kinsfolk' truly observed that although the mail ran from London to Edinburgh in forty-eight hours, it required always six months for fashions in dress to travel from the former metropolis to the latter, so throughout almost all the other counties hunting men continue to sit behind that costly, ugly, thigh-straining sausage stuffing which the riders to the Pytchley, Quorn, and Cottesmore hounds have so properly discarded.
Arrian states that the Persians, in battle, had no bridles, but governed and guided their horses by nose bands, covering sharp pieces of iron, brass, or ivory.
The curb bit, though used in the time of the Roman emperors (in an ancient sculpture Theodosius is represented riding with one of extraordinary leverage), was not adopted by the English until Charles I. in the third year of his reign issued a proclamation, commanding that no person serving in the cavalry should use the snaffle, but in lieu thereof the curb only.
On the frieze of the Temple of Minerva, in the Acropolis of Athens, the horses are represented as ridden (as in the races through the Strada Reale in Malta they are still ridden) without bridles or saddles.
The best bridle for a horse is, of course, that which is best adapted to the particular work he is required to perform.
For racing over turf, where he is required to extend himself like a greyhound, the snaffle-bit only is almost invariably selected.
For cavalry purposes, where he is required suddenly to throw himself on his haunches, wheel to either side, or right about, the curb-bit is added; while by the Turks and those Asiatics who practise their horses to approach a wall at full speed, stop, turn round, and then gallop back again, a curb-bit only is used.
For hunting, both bits are necessary; for while across turf, light soil, and over fences of almost every description, the snaffle is a safer guide than the curb-bit, yetin going through deep ground the latter is absolutely necessary to enable the rider, by holding his horse together, not only to prevent him from extending himself—in which attitude his hind feet would overreach his fore ones before they could be extricated from the sub-soil—but to stop him quickly, for instance to pop through a gap on either side, which he would otherwise override for a considerable distance.
To leap over the hedge of a plantation full of trees on a hot horse, with only a snaffle-bit in his mouth, would be dangerous, and often impracticable; whereas it might easily be effected with a curb-bit, by which the animal could moreover be made to ascend a steep narrow bank, creep along it, and then jump off it, over perhaps the only practicable point in the fence beyond it.
The shape, make, and leverage of bits of all descriptions of course depend on the mouth and disposition of the particular animal for which they are required.
It may, however, be generally stated that for all horses a plain snaffle is better than a twisted one; and that of curb-bits, those are the best which give to the rider the maximum of mechanical power, with, to the noble animal beneath him, the minimum of pain.
To a war horse, as well as to his rider, it may be immaterial whether he be infuriated by spurs prickinghis sides, or from the laceration of his mouth by a harsh bit, purposely constructed to hurt him.
As regards a hunter, however, the case is quite different; for while on the one hand his becoming infuriated is dangerous to his master as well as himself, a total absence of pain induces him to give calm attention to the difficult work he has to perform.
Although, therefore, according to the animal's disposition a sufficient amount of leverage is required, the smoother the bit is made the more willing will he be to submit to it, and the less will he be disposed to quarrel with it; indeed this principle has more than once been exemplified by the fact of a run-away horse, over which his rider had apparently no control, stopping gradually of his own accord, in consequence of the rupture of the curb chain, which, having infuriated him by the agony it had inflicted on his lower jaw, had actually caused the very danger it had been created to prevent. And it is for this reason that a leathern strap ought almost invariably to be placed under the hard twisted curb chain, by which simple addition acute pain is removed, without any diminution of strength of the chain or of the leverage of the curb-bit.
Although it is a common axiom that "the value of a thing is exactly what it will fetch," yet in the hunting field the price at which a horse has been sold is very rarely a criterion of his real worth, the reason being that his performances are made up of three items, of which he himself forms only one, the other two being stable management and good riding, for neither of which is the quadruped entitled to claim the smallest amount of credit; and yet, on the principle that "handsome is that handsome does," it is a usual error, especially among young sportsmen, to estimate that a horse which goes brilliantly must be a good one, and vice versâ; whereas an ordinary description of animal, in splendid condition, and judiciously ridden, cannot fail to leave far behind him a superior one injudiciously ridden, made up of flesh instead of muscle, of impure instead of pure blood, and of bloated, unpractised, instead of healthy, well-exercised lungs. For these reasons it continually happens that a horse that has been observed to go what is called "brilliantly" throughout a run, is, at its conclusion, sold for a considerable sum, in addition to another horse, on which the purchaser, in a few weeks, leaves behind him the animal he had sold, whose owner now to his cost discovers that
"The lovely toy so keenly soughtHas lost its charms by being caught"
byhim.
But the price of a hunter is materially affected by the quality as well as the qualifications of his rider, whose position in the world often confers upon his horses a fictitious value; and accordingly the hunting stud of the late Sir Richard Sutton—sold by public auction shortly after his death—realised sums exceeding by at least 40 per cent. what subsequently proved to be their current value when transferred to the stables of people of less renown.
Again, a respectable, first-rate horse dealer succeeds in his profession, not so much by his superior knowledge of the animals hebuys, but by the quantity and quality of the eloquence he exerts insellingthem. Every hunter, therefore, that is purchased from a great man of this description is necessarily composed of, 1st, his intrinsic value; and 2nd, of the anecdotes, smiles, compliments, and praises, which, although when duly mixed up with an evident carelessness about selling him, captivated the listener to purchase him, like a bottle of uncorked ardent spirits evaporate, or, like a swarm of bees, fly away, almost as soon as the transaction is concluded, leaving behind them nothing but the animal's intrinsic value.
It often happens that a horse brimfull of qualifications of the very best description is most reluctantly sold by his master "because he shies so dreadfully," a frolic which, to a good rider, is perfectly harmless, and which, if he deems it worth the trouble, he is almost certain to cure.
A timid horseman, however, not only believes that his horse is frightened at the little heap of stones at which he shies, but for this very reason he becomes frightened at it himself; whereas the truth is that the animal's sensations in passing it are usually compounded as follows:—
Of fear of {the little heap 1/10.{whip and spur 9/10.
Now, if this be the case, which no one of experience will deny, it is evident that the simple remedy to be adopted is, first, at once to remove the great cause of the evil complained of, by ceasing to apply either whip or spur; and, secondly, gradually to remove the lesser cause by a little patient management which shall briefly be explained.
When a horse has been overloaded with a heavy charge of oats and beans, which may be termed jumping powder, and primed by a very short allowance of work, his spirits, like the hair trigger of a rifle, are prepared on thesmallest touch to cause a very violent explosion. In fact, without metaphor, on the slightest occurrence he is not only ready, but exceedingly desirous, to jump for joy.
Thecasus belliwhich the animal would perhaps most enjoy would be to meet a temperance run-away awning-covered waggon full of stout, healthy young women in hysterics, all screaming; or to have a house fall down just as he was passing it. However, as a great conqueror, if he cannot discover a large excuse for invading the territory of his neighbour, is sure to pick out a very little one, so does the high mettled horse who has nothing to start at, proceed under his rider with his eyes searching in all directions for something which he may pretend to be afraid of. Influenced by these explosive propensities he cocks his ears at a large leaf which the air had gently roused from its sleep, as if it were a crouching tiger; and shortly afterwards a fore leg drops under him as suddenly as if it had been carried away by a cannon shot, because in the hedge beside him a wren has just hopped from one twig to another nearly an inch.
Now, of course, the effective cure for all these symptoms of exuberant, pent up spirits is a long, steady hand-gallop up and down hill across rather deep ground. Before, however, this opportunity offers, man can offer to the brute beneath him a more reasonable remedy.
The instant that a horse at a walk sees at a short distancebefore him, say a heap of stones, at which he pretends to be or really is afraid, instead of forcing him on, he should be allowed or, if it be necessary, forced to stop, not only till he has ceased to fear it, but until, dead tired of looking at it, he averts his eyes elsewhere.
While advancing towards it, so often as his fear, or pretended fear, breaks out, by instantly bringing him to a stand-still it should in like manner be over-appeased.
In slowly passing any object which a horse appears to be afraid of, the error which is almost invariably committed is to turn his head towards it, in which case, revolving upon his bit as on a pivot, the animal turns his hind-quarters from it, and in that position with great ease shies more or less away from it; whereas, if the rein opposite to it be pulled firmly, he not only instantly ascertains that his rider's desire is in opposition to, instead of in favour of forcing him towards the object of his fear, but when his head is drawn away from it, although he is able to rush forwards, it is out of his power to shylaterally.
Now, instead of endeavouring thus to triumph over instinct by reason, instead of allowing a horse more time even than he requires to appease his own apprehensions, be they real or pretended, the course which a gentleman's groom usually adopts is, like giving fuel to fire,to add to the animal's fear of the object he is unwilling to approach, his infinitely greater fear of a pair of plated spurs.
The oftener and the stronger this ignorant prescription is applied, the more violent becomes the disease it undertakes to alleviate, until, on its being declared to be incurable, the poor frightened animal is sold for a fault almost entirely created by human hands and inhuman heels.
The extent to which a timid animal can be appeased by kindness is, at the present moment, beautifully exemplified by a deer, which has been so divested of its fears by Tom Hill, the huntsman of the Surrey fox-hounds, that the animal not only accompanies the hounds when taken out for exercise, but eats biscuit, and actually sleeps with them in the kennel.
If, during their meal, two of the hounds fight, by a pat with his fore feet he tries to separate them. If, at exercise, anything alarms him, with a bound or two he vaults for safety into the middle of the pack. And yet, when in this citadel, if any strange dog approaches them, with malice prepense he rushes out at him, as if determined to kill him. In short, by kind superintendence the deer has become as fond of blood-thirsty hounds as they of him.
As it is incumbent on all civilized communities to be kind to every living being,—as our laws profess to maintain this Christian axiom,—and as there exists among us a Society self-constituted for the especial purpose of "the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals," it would be very difficult satisfactorily to explain, at least tothem, why, in violation of so benign a theory, we deliberately practise the following fashions:—
1. Of cutting off all our sheep's tails.2. Of dittoing the tails of all dogs that take care of sheep.3. Of dittoing the ears of terriers.4. Of dittoing a portion of the tails, and occasionally of the ears, of our horses.5. Of piercing with a sharp awl the ears of all our daughters, in order to insert therein golden rings, which, by equalizing all, can confer no possible benefit on any one: that is to say, provided Euclid is correct in declaring that "when equals are added to equals, their sums are equal."
1. Of cutting off all our sheep's tails.
2. Of dittoing the tails of all dogs that take care of sheep.
3. Of dittoing the ears of terriers.
4. Of dittoing a portion of the tails, and occasionally of the ears, of our horses.
5. Of piercing with a sharp awl the ears of all our daughters, in order to insert therein golden rings, which, by equalizing all, can confer no possible benefit on any one: that is to say, provided Euclid is correct in declaring that "when equals are added to equals, their sums are equal."
If any person among us defaces a statue, he is liable to punishment and to the execration of the public; andyet there can be no doubt that in every sense of the word it is more barbarous to mutilate the living original of an Almighty Creator than a cold stone or marble copy thereof, chiselled more or less imperfectly by human hands.
About forty years ago it was the general custom to dock the tails of all hunters, covert-hacks, and waggon-horses, so close, that nothing remained of this picturesque, beautiful ornament of Nature but an ugly, stiff stump, very little longer than the human thumb, which, especially in summer time, was seen continually wagging to the right or left, in impotent attempts to brush off a hungry fly, biting the skin more than a yard off. At about the same period an officer in our army took to the Cape of Good Hope a gentle, beautiful, thoroughbred mare, which, to his astonishment, the natives appeared exceedingly unwilling to approach. The reason was, that her ears had been cropped; and as among themselves that punishment was inflicted for crimes, they were induced to infer that the handsome mutilated animal had suffered from a similar cause—in fact, that she wasvicious.
From the same premises, and by the same reasoning faculties, they might as erroneously have conceived that the holes bored through most of the English ladies' ears denoted the existence of a uniform speck of some sort or other in their characters.
Having briefly enumerated only a few of the mutilations which, in different regions of the earth, man inflicts, not only upon the animals around him, but upon himself, we will proceed to notice a prescription of modern date which has produced very astonishing results.
As in crime there exists an essential difference between cutting off a man's head, and cutting off only his hair, so in cruelty does there exist a similar difference between the fashion which mutilates the body of an animal, and that which deprives him only of its covering: still, however, the practice of clipping, shaving, and singeing horses must, to every person, at first sight appear so incomprehensible that a slight notice of the subject may possibly be deemed worthy of a few minutes' consideration.
To a wild horse, roaming in a state of perfect freedom, Nature grants an allowance very similar to that which every inhabitant of Grosvenor Square gives to each of his tall powdered footmen: namely, board, lodging, and two suits of clothing per annum; with this important difference, however, that while the poor pampered, gaudy menial is ignorantly dressed throughout the whole year in cloth and plush of the same thickness, the animal is beneficently provided with two different descriptions of clothing, namely, a light thin silky coat for summer wear, and a thick fur one to keep him warm and comfortable throughout the winter months.
Now it might be expected that if man undertook to interfere with this provision, he would, in accordance with the spirit and meaning of the act by which it had been decreed, extend its principle by relieving the horse of a portion of his covering during the excessive heat of summer, and by bestowing upon him a little extra warmth in winter; whereas, by the operation about to be described, he makes the animal's cold weather coat infinitely less able to resist cold than that purposely created for sunshine only.
About fifty years ago, during the Peninsular war, it was observed that the Spanish muleteers gave to the animals they had charge of great apparent relief by rudely shearing off the hair that covered their bodies; and on the idea being imported into England, our hunting men, principally at Melton, commenced the practice by "clipping," at a cost at first of about five guineas, their hunters.
This operation, which, in its infancy, occupied four or five days, was succeeded by the practice of shaving, which, in about as many hours, left the animal as bare as the hide of a pig that had just been killed, scalded, and scraped.
This latter operation, however, was found to be attended with two opposite disadvantages: for, if perpetrated too soon, it required to be repeated, or rather to be succeededby clipping; and if delayed till the growth of the thick coat had subsided, the horse remained throughout the winter naked like an elephant.
In order therefore to shorten the coat exactly in proportion to its uncertain growth, it was determined gradually and repeatedly to burn it by fire to the minimum length prescribed, that is, leaving only sufficient to conceal the bare skin.
When the animal has thus been denuded of his coat, so long as he remains in his hot stable it is restored to him with compound interest, by two, and occasionally by three suits of warm clothing, which he might expect would, like that worn by his lord and master, be increased as soon as he should be led from his covered domicile into the open air. But the contrary operation takes place; for while his owner is swathing himself in his extra flannel hunting clothing, the singed quadruped at the same moment, in order to be taken to the meet, at one haul is denuded of the whole of his indoor clothing, a bridle is put into his mouth, a saddle on his bare back, and in this state, literally, without metaphor, more naked than he was born, he is suddenly led or ridden ten or fifteen miles through perhaps wind, rain, sleet, or snow, to be exposed throughout the whole day to sudden sweats and sudden chills, in temperatures and at elevations of the most trying description.
Now, of course, in theory, nothing can be more unnatural, and it might be added more barbarous, than this treatment; and yet, strange to say, by acclamation it would be declared by every horse-owner who has tried it that, in practice, it produces to the animal not only beneficial, but unexpected, results.
The lungs appear to become stouter.
Hot swelled legs suddenly get cool and fine.
The appetite grows stronger.
The flesh increases.
The muscles thicken.
In consequence of greatly diminished perspiration the amount of food necessary to recruit the body may be reduced, at least, one feed per day.
After hunting, the skin, instead of breaking out from internal debility and exhaustion, remains dry.
Lastly, as mud and dirt cannot take hold of a singed coat, and consequently as little or no grooming is required, the animal, on reaching his stable, soon enjoys rest, instead of being for an hour or two teased, excited, and irritated, by being tied up, hissed at, and cleaned.
But, against all these advantages, it is only fair to weigh the amount of suffering which it is supposed by us a horse endures by being stripped of his coat and clothing, and in that naked state being suddenly plunged, during winter, into the external air.
In ascertaining this amount of suffering, however, we must not commit the error of estimating a horse's sensation by what, under similar circumstances, we imagine would be our own, for the cases are quite different.
Throughout the frame or fabric of man, his blood, however proud it may be, circulates so feebly, that on being subjected to a low temperature it actually, like fluid in a pipe, freezes in his veins; whereas throughout the body of a horse it is propelled with such violence, that, like the deep water in the Canada lakes, it is beyond the power of cold, however intense, to stop it; and accordingly, when everything else around stands frozen, it triumphantly continues its fluent course. In fact, the relative power of the two animals to resist cold is fully proportionate to the difference between their muscular strength; and as the human being, notwithstanding its weakness, is strong enough to endure the sudden transition from a hot bath to a cold one, or, as is the custom in Russia, to a roll on the snow, so, à fortiori, is a hunter gifted by Nature with a circulation of blood powerful enough to enable him, without injury or suffering, to bear an apparently unnatural mode of treatment, which, although it makesusalmost shiver to think of, is productive to his stouter frame of beneficial results, of inestimable value.
Among hunting men there is nothing so unpopular as what is called by the rest of the world a most beautiful, clear, bright day. The gaudy thing is disagreeable to eyes because it is dangerous to the bodies to which they respectively belong; for when every twig glitters in the sunshine, and every drop of dew that hangs upon them looks like a diamond, the fences so dazzle the eyes of riders, and especially of horses, that a number of extra falls are very commonly the result. Soft ground, dull weather, an easterly wind, and a cloudy sky, form the compound that is most approved of. On such a day, and under such circumstances, we beg leave to invite our readers to sit with us patiently for a very few minutes in a balloon, as, like a hawk hovering above a partridge, it hangs over the quiet little village of Arthingworth, in Northamptonshire. Those hounds, headed by that whipper-in riding so lightly and neatly on his horse, and surrounding their huntsman Charles Payne, jogging along, seated in his saddle as if he had grown there, are on that portion of the Queen's highway which connects Northampton with Market Harborough. They are the Pytchley hounds, the hereditary property, not of the presentmaster, but of the hunt. They are on their way from their kennel at Brixworth to a park at Arthingworth to draw "Waterloo Gorse," which means that every man who intends to come (and their name is legion) will send there, not his best-looking, but, what is infinitely better, that which he knows to be "his best horse," simply because the covert of Waterloo not only usually holds a good fox, but because it is encircled by very large grass-fields, enlivened in every direction by the severest fences in Northamptonshire. See how quietly along every high-road, bye-road, and footpath, horses and riders, of various sizes and sorts, walking, jogging, or gently trotting, are converging towards a central point! Schoolboys are coming to see the start on ponies; farmers on clever nags; others on young horses of great price; neatly-dressed grooms, some heavy and some light, are riding, or riding and leading, horses magnificent in shape and breeding, in the most beautiful condition, all as clean and well-appointed as if they had been prepared to do miserable penance in Rotten Row. And are all these noble and ignoble animals beneath us going to the hunt? Yes, and many more that we cannot see. Look at those straight streams of white steam that through green fields are concentrating from north, south, east, and west upon Market Harborough, from Leicester, from Northampton, from Stamford, and from Rugby—denoting trains that,at the rate of thirty or forty miles an hour, are hurrying boxes all containing hunters for the meet.
On the huntsman and hounds slowly entering and taking up their positions in the small park at Arthingworth, excepting two or three farmers, no one is there to receive or notice them. However, in a few minutes, through large gates and through smaller ones, grooms on and with their horses walk steadily in; while Charles Payne, occasionally chucking from his coat-pocket a few crumbs of bread to his hounds, most of whom are looking upwards at him, leaning over his horse, is holding confidential conversation with a keeper. "It's too bad!" whispers an old farmer, who had just been entrusted with the secret that another fox had last night been shot by poachers; "and, what's more, it's been a-going onIN MANY WAYSa long time." "Yes!" replies Charles Payne, looking as calmly and philosophically as Hamlet when he was moralising over Yorick's skull; "you may rely upon it that, what with greyhounds,—and poachers,—and traps,—and poison,—there are very few foxes now-a-days that die a natural death"—meaning that they were not eaten up alive by the Pytchley hounds.
But during all this precious time where are all the scarlet coats? Oh! here they come, trotting, riding, and galloping to the meet from every point of the compass, and apparently from every region of the habitable globe,some of the young ones—diverging as usual from their path of rectitude—to lark over a fence or two. Along the turnpike and country roads, drags with four horses, light dog-carts with two, post-chaises and gigs, each laden with men muffled up in heavy clothing, showing no pink, save a little bit peeping out at the collar, are all hurrying onwards to the same goal; and as these living bundles, with cigars in their mouths, are rapidly landing in the park, it will be advisable that we also should descend there to observe them.
By about a quarter before eleven the grass in front of the hospitable hunting-box of one of the late masters of the Pytchley—who, take him all in all, is one of the very best riders in the hunt—becomes as crowded as a fair with sportsmen of all classes, from the highest rank in the peerage down to—not exactly those who rent a 6l.house,—but who can afford money and time enough to "hoont," as they call it. While two or three well-appointed servants in livery are very quietly, from a large barrel, handing glasses of bright-looking ale to any farmer or groom who, after his long ride, may happen to feel a little thirsty, and while others from white wicker-baskets are distributing bits of bread and lumps of cheese to any man who may feel that beneath his waistcoat there is house-room to receive them, the honourable and gallant proprietor of the brown barrel and white baskets, loungingin his red coat, &c., on his exalted lawn, with sundry small scratches (from bull-finches) on his face, with something now and then smoking a little from his mouth, and with that placid and easy manner which in every situation of life distinguishes him, says to any friend in pink that happens to pass him, "Won't ye goINfor a moment?" But, without invitation, most of the aristocrats, leaving their horses with their grooms, to ascend a flight of ladder steps which raises them to the lawn, walk slowly and majestically across it, adjusting their hair, "just to make their bow." When that compliment has been paid, they pause for a second or two in the hall, and then recross the lawn, indolently munching, and with perfumed handkerchiefs carefully wiping lips or mustachios (as the case may be), which, if they were very closely approached, might possibly smellpartlyof cherries, to proceed to their respective grooms, and mount their horses.
"MoveON,Sir?" says Charles Payne, in his sharp, quick tone, touching his cap to the master, who slightly nods to him. "Now-then,-gentlemen!" he adds, "wareHOUNDS,if you please!" and accordingly, surrounded by them, onwards he, his two whips, and about two hundred horsemen, proceed at a walk to cross for nearly half a mile magnificent fields of grass of from eighty to a hundred acres. As the Pytchley and Quorn men are, for thereasons we have explained, each mounted on the very best of their stud, it need hardly be stated that the lot of horses before us are an accumulation of the finest specimens in the world; and yet with the highest breeding, courage, and condition, with magnificent figures, and with bone and substance sufficient to carry, through deep ground, from twelve to eighteen stone, there is a calm, unassuming demeanour in their walk, which it seems almost impossible sufficiently to admire. In like manner, among the riders, nobody appears to have the smallest disposition to talk about what he is going to do, or apparently even to think of where he is proceeding. A man from Warwickshire will perhaps describe the run he had there on Thursday; while another will fashionably say to a Leicestershire friend—"Did youdoanything on Friday?"—but most of the field are conversing as they ride along, not at all about foxes, but about Lords Palmerston, Derby, Italy, the Pope, &c.
On arriving close to Waterloo Gorse, Charles Payne pulls up to remain stationary for a couple of minutes, surrounded by his hounds, who, instead of gazing at his face, are all looking most eagerly at the covert, until the two whips, getting round it, have each taken up a position on the other side. "Now-then-little-bitches!" says Charles, as, with a twitch corresponding with his voice, he waves forwards his right hand, in which isgrasped the silver horn presented to him by the farmers. Without taking the smallest offence at the appellation (which after all is a just one, for, as they are the fastest of his two packs, Charles does not object to bringing them to "Waterloo"), in they dash; and in a second Charles and his horse are over the low flight of rails, to gallop along a briary path which conducts them to a small open space in the centre of the covert. The greater portion of the field, in coats of many colours, congregate on its right.
But "quanto sono insensibili questi Inglesi!" Instead of evincing the smallest degree of anxiety, the conversations we have described are renewed; and though certainly nobody seems to care the hundred-thousandth part of a farthing about what his lips are saying, and though the countenance of every man appears to acknowledge that, on the whole, he is well enough satisfied with this world, yet men and horses remain perfectly cool, and occasionally cold, until it might be fancied by any old soldier standing a mile off that a shell had suddenly burst in the middle of them. "Pray,don't holla!" exclaims an old sportsman in a loud whisper. "By Jove, He's Away!" screams a very young one in pink, pointing to a shepherd who, grasping a struggling dog with one hand, is holding up his hat with the other. Half a dozen loud, slow, decisive, monotonous blasts fromCharles Payne's horn are instantly heard, while his hounds, tumbling over each other, jump almost together over a small hedge and ditch out of the covert, with their beautiful heads all pointing towards Leicestershire. As they and reynard take the opposite side of the large grass field in which the riders had assembled, the start of the latter is very nearly as sudden as that of the former. Packed together almost as closely as the wild young creatures that on Epsom course run for the Derby, the best men and the best horses belonging to the Pytchley, Quorn, Cottesmore, and Warwickshire hounds start together over turf down a gentle declivity, at the bottom of which runs an insignificant stream. Steady horsemanship in every rider is necessary to prevent treading on those immediately before, or jostling those on each side. Many a horse, by shaking his head, clearly enough shows how unwelcome to him is the restraint. From this conglomeration nearly a dozen men extricate themselves by the superior speed and management of their horses. Before them[G]is a well-known broad and strong fence, which, without competing against each other, they most gallantly charge, "magnâ comitante catervâ," followed by the great ruck. One,—two,—three,—four,—five,—six men and horses take it almost together in their stride, and, to the astonishment of the remainder, all disappear! Every horse had well cleared the broad ditchon the other side, but all nearly simultaneously had landed in an artificial bog beyond it, made for draining purposes only a few days before, and in which the six men and the six horses, each perfectly unhurt, are now as prostrate and as "comfortable" as if they had, to use the old nurse's expression, "just been put to bed." The Hon. Fred. Villiers and Harry Everard are the first over and down. As they lie together in the mud, looking upwards, they see coming over the stakes of the hedge the Fitzwilliam girths of the horses of Henry Forrester and Thomas Atkinson (Vive L'Empereur!), followed almost instantly by two strangers. However, nearly as quickly as they all fell, they severally arise, mount their horses, and gallantly regain the hounds. The field of riders, unable to comprehend what has happened, and moreover unable as well as unwilling to stop their horses, as it were by word of command, all gracefully swerve together in a curve to the right to take two stiff fences instead of one. About half a dozen, on perfect timber-jumpers, cross a ditch overhung by a stout ash rail, firmly fixed between two trees; the remainder break their way through a bull-finch, and then, throwing their right shoulders forward, at a very honest pace, all make every proper effort to catch Charles Payne and the few others who with him had followed the line of the hounds.
We should certainly tire and jolt our readers very grievously were we to presume to hustle them throughthe well-known and splendid run that ensued. Not only, however, do our limits forbid us to do so, but as we shall shortly have to quote hunting-anecdotes from a very superior pen, we willingly pull up to make, in cool blood instead of in hot, a very few remarks.