The Horse and His Rider

Part 13

Chapter 134,135 wordsPublic domain

As, however, in mechanics, a timid, puny boy, with the assistance of a pulley, could drag towards him Mars or Hercules, so must the new arms of precision lately invented, give victory, not to the bravest or the strongest, but to whichever of two combatant armies shall exercise their deadly weapons with the greatest amount of science.

And, as fortification has justly been defined "the art of enabling a small body of men to resist for a considerable time the attack of a greater number," so will, in future, the science of war consist in the art of concealing by every possible artifice the general commanding, his staff, his artillery, cavalry, and infantry, from the fire of rifled cannon and Minié muskets, of which, when properly directed, it may be said that almost "every bullet will have its billet."

On this principle, if England were to be invaded, it would be the endeavour and the duty of the general on whose intellectual powers the destiny of the empire would hang, to direct his army to take against their enemy (after, in spite of his utmost efforts, they had effected a landing), not, as in by-gone days, "_the field_," but rather possession of the banks, hedges, and ditches thereof; to make every great mansion, building, or village, by loop-holing their walls, a Hougoumont; every railway embankment a covert-way and parapet; every hollow road a protector or ambuscade for cavalry or infantry; the scarped summit of every hill a battery; in short, by avoiding exposure, and by every means that ingenuity can devise, to make the invaders, during every step of their advance, smart under a lash, and fall from blows, administered by a nimble, intellectual army which they feel, which they are literally dying to see, but which is skilfully continuing, out of their reach, to decimate their ranks, in order that when the great battle is given, the invading army--though infinitely superior when it disembarked--shall be reduced to a force inferior in number to that of the stern, steady, stalwart defenders of their native soil.

It is evident, however, that to carry on war on the above principle, it will be necessary that cavalry, in their equipment as well as drill, should undergo a complete revolution, with a view to enable them in future, in addition to the use of their sabres, to help artillery with their lassos,--act as _mounted infantry_,--in short, make themselves generally useful; for, at present, they form on a field of battle so large a target, that under existing circumstances they would have, either out of harm's way to sit on their horses all day long waiting for an opportunity not likely to occur, or be destroyed by rifled guns and muskets before their services could be required: in fact, as it would be impossible for them to charge men in squares, or even in position armed with muskets of unerring aim, they could be of little use until after the battle was _won_, by following up the enemy in their retreat.

Now, instead of being the dearest and the most useless, they would become the cheapest and most efficient branch of the army, if, besides occasionally using their lassos to help our Armstrong guns, &c., they had power to skim along hollow roads, &c., to the vicinity of the summit of a hill or any other position, from which, half or wholly hidden, they could, with short Minié rifles, direct a deadly fire upon an overwhelming amount of advancing troops, from whom they could gallop away--only to re-attack them--the instant it became prudent to do so.

But to enable cavalry or volunteer mounted yeomanry to act in this manner, how, it will be asked, could they manage to leave their horses?

To this important question we will reply, not by any theoretical project, but by a statement of facts, which, though generally unknown in England, have for many generations been in constant practice in other parts of the world.

1. Throughout Russia, the Cossacks,--whenever for any reason, small or large, they have wished to leave one horse, or a regiment of horses, to stand alone, to ruminate either in the snow or on a verdant plain--have, for ages, been in the habit of, as it were, riveting them to the ground, by tying together their two fore fetlocks by a pair of hobbles, to the centre of which is affixed a narrow strap that buckles over the hock of one hind leg. By this triangular apparatus (weighing less than one pound), which out of four legs leaves only one at liberty, the animal physically and morally is completely paralysed; indeed he is not only unable to move away, but after his first fall is afraid again to try to do so.

2. In South Africa, farmers and sportsmen of all descriptions have long been in the habit of what they term "anchoring" their horses by a lump of lead, from three to five pounds in weight, carried in a small pocket buckled to the outside of their near or left holster.

To this "anchor" is attached a piece of cord about ten feet long, which, passing and running freely through both rings of the curb bit, and hanging from them like a loose rein, is fastened to a =D= or ring on the off-side of the saddle.

No time need be lost in displacing the lead from its pocket when necessary, as it can be jerked out on the ground in the act of dismounting.

When a horse has been thus anchored, if he attempts to move on, his nose is brought down to his breast by the cord, which, tightening equally on both sides, acts exactly like a bridle in the hand of a rider; and as the pressure of the curb-chain ceases so soon as he stops, he soon finds out that the best thing he can do is to stand still and graze.

As the cord is not _fastened_ to either ring of the bit, but merely runs through both, the pressure it exerts when the horse tries to move is equal on both sides; and therefore, on the pulley principle, a lead of four pounds weight makes it necessary for the horse to overcome with his mouth a steady and continuous pressure of eight pounds on the extremity of the bit lever before he can move forward. On mounting hurriedly the cord is grasped with the reins, the anchor is raised, and while galloping away is adjusted in its pocket.

Although this invention has proved to be admirably adapted for farmers, for hunting and shooting, or for staff or engineer officers while reconnoitring or surveying (for which purpose General Sir John Michel, now commanding a brigade in China, has used it with great success), it could not safely be applied to cavalry; for as the horse has power, if he chooses to endure the pain inflicted by his bit, to "pull" or drag the anchor, were he to run away with it, its oscillations would be very dangerous in a camp.

To carry the additional weight of the anchor would also be considered as an objection; but this could be entirely got rid of by any intelligent staff officer affixing to a rope,--whenever he wished for reconnoitring to tether his horse,--a stone, a piece of wood, or any other heavy substance, which he would unlash and leave behind him so soon as his object on foot had been accomplished.

3. In Mendoza, San Luis, Santiago, Buenos Ayres, and all other cities in the provinces of Rio de la Plata, in Chili, and in Peru, whenever a young dandy, calling upon his innamorata, is informed that she is "en casa," that is at home, he dismounts, extracts from his waistcoat pocket a beautiful pair of slight hobbles (weighing only two ounces), which by two silver buttons he affixes to the fetlocks of his high-bred horse, who, swishing with his long tail the innumerable flies that assail him, and looking at every animal that canters by him, stands stock still, until within the house all the compliments of the season have been paid, and all the songs to the guitar exhausted.

In those countries every cavalry soldier carries a pair of such hobbles for his horse, not in his pocket, but as an ornament dangling from the throat-lash of the bridle.

By this invention a horse is not so thoroughly secured as by that used by the Cossacks; and accordingly, if he be overfed, very fresh, and greatly alarmed, he has power in a very awkward gait to move away.

On active service, however, where horses have more work than food, it would prove efficient for a single horse, and would completely arrest a troop when connected together by their collar chains, by which arrangement a movement, however slight, by any one horse would be restrained by the vis inertiæ of all the rest.

On the above suggestion being submitted by us about six months ago to General Sir John Burgoyne, with the vivacity and energy that distinguish him, he instantly directed it to be properly tested by the mounted troop of the Royal Engineer Train, who, as regards both bridles and saddles, are equipped as cavalry.

The result of the experiments, under the superintendence of Colonel Henry Sandham, and the able assistance of Captain Duff, R.E., has proved so eminently successful, that any one visiting Aldershott is now enabled to see six or eight horses hobbled at intervals of about thirty feet asunder, standing motionless, while the riders of the rest of the troop to which they belong, with drawn sabres flashing in the sun, are galloping through them backwards and forwards; and as of course cavalry horses could be made to do the same, it has been substantiated that that noble branch of our army, as also our volunteer yeomanry, by merely carrying hobbles, which only weigh two ounces per pair, would at once be enabled, in addition to other services, to act, whenever requisite, as _mounted infantry_.

To an officer of the staff or engineers, sent to deliver an order to, or to reconnoitre a locality which on horseback it would be certain death to him to attempt to approach, a pair of hobbles would enable him, or, in case of invasion, any possessor of a horse and a Minié rifle, to ride as far as with safety he could advance, and then by dismounting and securing his animal to creep, or if necessary, crawl onwards along the bottom of a ditch, or behind any bank or hedge, sufficient to conceal him from the fire of an army of unerring marksmen to whom, after making all necessary observations, he could invisibly administer deadly blows.

As, however, in future warfare it will of course constantly occur, that appropriate cover in appropriate situations and directions will not be available, our army, however perfect it may be made in the light infantry rifle movements above described, should be discouraged from _relying_ on them, lest such an idea should lead, not only to a timid course of procedure on the part of the General commanding, but to a conception in the minds of British soldiers, whose favourite weapon has hitherto been their bayonets, that the odds will be much against them unless they be hidden from the fire of their enemy.

+On Chloroforming Horses.+

In the first book of Genesis, although on the bursting out of light; on the gathering together of the waters to let the dry land appear; on the creation of the grass, the herb, and the fruit-tree; of the sun, moon, and stars; of the fishes of the sea; of the fowls of the air; of the beast of the earth, of the cattle, of every living creature, and everything that creepeth upon the earth, we are informed by Moses that on each of these successive formations "God saw that it was good;" yet, the same six important words of approval were not (as in all the previous instances they had been) especially uttered on the creation of man, the reason possibly being that of the works of creation every thing was fixed, and "of its kind" immutably "good," save human reason, which, for the weal or woe of the favoured race on whom alone it was bestowed, was gifted with an elasticity by which its character, capable of being elevated or depressed to almost immeasurable distances above or below the level of its original creation, might become either "good" or evil.

And accordingly, while the heat of the sun, the light of the moon, the brightness of the stars, the force of the hurricane, the velocity of light, the movements of the heavenly bodies, the return of the seasons, have neither increased nor diminished in the smallest degree; yet human reason, since the moment of its creation, has never continued within the same limits, simply because its cumulative powers have enabled it to inherit, increase, and transmit knowledge which, by the triumph of reason over immutable instinct, has, in accordance with the Almighty decree, given to man dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth on the earth.

As property, however, in animals as well as in acres, "has its duties as well as its rights," it might have been expected (at least by _them_) that when the Lord of the creation thus obtained possession of the superior physical strength of brute beasts, he would deem it just to impart to them in return a small tithe or share of any discovery by human reason that could alleviate the work which, in subjection to its power, they were required to perform; and as in mercantile firms it is usual for the partners to expend for their mutual benefit the amount of the capital they respectively contribute, it might have been expected that in the alliance which has taken place between men and horses, a similar division of profits would have been adopted. But like "Irish reciprocity," the advantages are all on one side; or in plainer terms, Reason screws all it can out of Instinct, giving to the poor brute, its owner, nothing in return.

For instance, when man found that his unshod horse could only carry him per day a small number of miles, he invented for and presented him with iron shoes, in return for which he required the wearer thereof to carry him more than double that distance.

To the old fashioned lever, attached to the extremity of which a horse revolving a mill could only draw up per day a small quantity of water, or knead a small quantity of clay, man as he improved in mechanical knowledge added a wheel, in return for which he required the quadruped worker thereof to lift treble the amount of water, or to knead treble the amount of clay.

Along the rough muddy roads that existed throughout Europe half a century ago, a horse could with difficulty draw a single man seated in his gig or "buggy." As soon, however, as by human science roads were macadamised, _i.e._, levelled and improved, there arose as it were out of them (like mushrooms in a meadow) innumerable descriptions of four-wheeled carriages, in which the horse, simply because he was enabled, was required to draw, in addition to his master, his wife and three or four of their children.

When by the invention of railways the locomotive engine suddenly superseded animal power, the horses, instead of sharing in a discovery by human reason which seemed to promise to them emancipation from slavery, found that by it they were merely to be transferred from good highways to bad bye-ways.

If thousands of omnibuses, cabs, and canal-boats, which have been plying seven days in the week, are suddenly restrained by human laws from running on the Sabbath, the proprietors instantly diminish the number of their horses, expressly for the purpose of continuing to give to each the same amount of work and of rest, the latter, like "the best of oats, beans, and chopped hay," being bestowed upon him solely to enable him to perform the maximum amount of work.

In short, by the common rule of three, as well as by the common rule of life, quaintly exemplified by the following extract, human reason calculates that if 7000 horses are necessary to work for seven days per week, only 6000 will be wanted to work for six days.

"+Sunday and Week-day Religions.+--The tides come twice a-day in New York Harbour, but they only come once in seven days in God's harbour of the sanctuary. They rise on Sunday, but ebb on Monday, and are down and out all the rest of the week. Men write over their store door, 'Business is business,' and over the church door, 'Religion is religion;' and they say to Religion, 'Never come in here,' and to Business, 'Never go in there.' 'Let us have no secular things in the pulpit,' they say; 'we get enough of them through the week in New York. There all is stringent and biting selfishness, and knives, and probes, and lancets, and hurry, and work, and worry. Here we want repose, and sedatives, and healing balm. All is prose over there; here let us have poetry. We want to sing hymns, and to hear about heaven and Calvary; in short, we want the pure Gospel without any worldly intermixture.' And so they desire to spend a pious, quiet Sabbath, full of pleasant imaginings and peaceful recollections; but when the day is gone, all is laid aside. They will take by the throat the first debtor whom they meet, and exclaim, 'Pay me what thou owest. It is _Monday_.' And when the minister ventures to hint to them something about their duty to their fellow-men, they say, 'Oh, you stick to your preaching. You do not know how to collect your own debts, and cannot tell what a man may have to do in his intercourse with the world.' God's law is not allowed to go into the week. If the merchant spies it in his store, he throws it over the counter. If the clerk sees it in the bank, he kicks it out at the door. If it is found in the street, the multitude pursue it, pelting it with stones, as if it were a wolf escaped from a menagerie, and shouting, 'Back with you! You have got out of _Sunday_.' There is no religion in all this. It is mere sentimentalism. Religion belongs to every day--to the place of business as much as to the church. High in an ancient belfry there is a clock, and once a week the old sexton winds it up; but it has neither dial plate nor hands. The pendulum swings, and there it goes, ticking, ticking, day in and day out, unnoticed and useless. What the old clock is in its dark chamber, keeping time to itself, but never showing it, that is the mere sentimentality of religion, high above life, in the region of airy thought; perched up in the top of Sunday, but without dial or pointer to let the week know what o'clock it is, of time or of eternity."--_American Paper._

It may be impracticable to prevent man from taking to himself the _whole_ benefit of every ingenious invention by which the physical power of the horse can be increased, yet surely, either by legislation or by the power of public opinion, he should be required to grant or rather transmit to the poor animal, as a gift from Heaven, the benefit of any scientific discovery that may save him from unnecessary and indescribable agony under operations almost all of which are prescribed either for the self interest, pride, or fashions of his master.

But although the avowed object of the criminal laws of England is to prevent crime by the infliction of a scale of punishments which, fearful enough to deter the guiltiest, are all divested, so far as science can devise, of bodily pain; although we deprecate any suffering on the tread-mill beyond that of ordinary hard labour; and although even for the murderer we have invented a machinery of rope, planks, and bolts to produce a sudden and almost painless death, yet, until lately, people of both sexes, of all ages, and of every sort and condition, have under the surgeon's knife been subjected to tortures which it would have been beyond the ingenuity of the most merciless tyrant that ever existed to have invented.

The screams, however, which have resounded throughout the civilized world--in private houses, in palaces, in cottages, on the field of battle, between the decks of men-of-war, and through the doors and windows of all public hospitals,--have lately, by the command and blessing of Almighty God, been suddenly stopped by the administration of chloroform, which now, diluted in the proportion of three parts of vapour to ninety-seven parts of atmospheric air, causes a patient, at no risk whatever of his life, and at a cost amounting to less than two-pence, to be bereft, not necessarily of his senses, but merely of sensation, while the knife, without the infliction of the slightest pain, is performing on his living body the most appalling operations.

"And the Lord God caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam, and he slept: and he took one of his ribs, and closed up the flesh instead thereof."

Now, if in return for this extraordinary alleviation, or rather annihilation of all sufferings under surgical treatment, man should deem it his duty to render public thanks to that Omnipotent Power from which it has proceeded, is it possible for him practically to perform any more acceptable act of acknowledgment than to allow the dumb creatures in his service to participate in a blessing which, by Divine authority, has been imparted to the possessors, not exclusively of human reason, but without favour or exception, of animal life?

As regards his horses, the performance of this duty is especially incumbent: for not only, like all other animals, are they liable to the accidents and ills that flesh is heir to, but some of the cruelest operations to which they are subjected--such, for instance, as cutting off and cauterising their tails, burning their sinews with red hot irons, dividing and cutting out a portion of a nerve, with other excruciating operations on young horses, under which they are often heard to squeal from pain--are inflicted on them, to comply with either a useless as well as a barbarous fashion;--or to enable them "to go for another season's hunting;"--or to make them "sound enough to sell;" or for the attainment of conveniences of which the horse derives not the smallest share: and as the high-bred, broken-down hunter has no voice to ask for mercy,--as he cannot boast of possessing reason,--as he has inherited no knowledge,--as he has no power to bequeath any,--as his whole energies have been devoted to the service and enjoyments of man, by whose mechanical contrivances he is now "cast" with his four feet shackled together, lying prostrate on a heap of straw;--just before the red-hot iron sears his over-strained sinews, or the sharp knife is inserted into his living flesh--surely, in a civilized country like England, some high power should be authorized to exclaim, not "Woodman, spare that tree!" but "_Sportsman, +SAVE+ that horse!_" by chloroform, from the agonising torture to which you have sentenced him!

You are a man of _pleasure_:--save him from unnecessary _pain_. You are a man of business:--inscribe in that ledger in which every one of the acts of your life is recorded, on one side how much _he_ will gain, and on the other, per contrà, how very little _you_ will lose, by the evaporation of a fluid that will not cost you the price of the shoes of the poor animal whose marketable value you have determined, by excruciating agony _to him_, to increase.

As he lies prostrate, all that is necessary to save him from suffering the smallest amount of pain is, to desire the operator with his left hand to close the animal's upper nostril, while beneath the lower one he places a quarter of a pint tin pot, containing a sponge, on which is gradually dropped, from a little vial, chloroform sufficient to deprive him of sensation, which can readily be tested by the occasional slight prick of a pin; and although, when thus lulled into an unconscious state, the noble animal may, during a dreadful operation, possibly dream that

"He sees war's lightning flashing, Sees the claymore and bayonet clashing, Sees through the blood the war-horse dashing"--