CHAPTER IX

RUNJEET SINGH’S FAMOUS HORSE LYLEE—ANECDOTES—PERSIAN HORSES.

IT is no unusual circumstance in the East for deadly feuds, such as that detailed in the last chapter, to be occasioned by disputes for the possession of a horse. Quarrels of this kind are very common among the Arab tribes of the Desert, and are often perpetuated from generation to generation. The fatal beauty of Helen scarcely caused more disasters than have severally followed the abduction of many a famous steed. Runjeet Singh, the great ruler of the Punjaub, had a horse named Lylee, which he computed to have cost him 60 lakhs of rupees (£600,000) and the lives of 12,000 soldiers, having been the occasion of several wars. It was the property of Yar Mohammad Khan, of Peshawer; and Runjeet Singh, after a long contest with that potentate, made the delivery of the animal to him a primary condition of peace. Yar Mohammad tried many stratagems to evade this demand; first, he declared the horse was dead, and when this was discovered to be a falsehood, he made several attempts to palm off other horses on the conqueror, instead of the real Lylee. In the course of the negotiations, Yar Mohammad died, and was succeeded by his brother Sooltan Mohammad Khan, who also prevaricated as long as he could. But at last General Ventura, an Italian in Runjeet’s service, ended the matter by a bold stroke. Entering the reception room one day, he once more formally demanded Lylee, and when Sooltan Mohammad began to quibble as usual, Ventura called up his soldiers, whom he had posted in the courtyard of the palace, and pronounced the Khan a prisoner in his own capital. This so astounded the Khan, that he ordered the horse to be brought forthwith, and Ventura quitted Peshawer, with his costly booty.

Lylee was full sixteen hands high, and was magnificently apparelled. His bridle and saddle were splendid, and round his knees he had gold bangles. He was seen by Lieut. Barr’s party in 1839, when he was old, and disappointed their expectations. He was then a speckled grey, overloaded with fat, filthily dirty, and his heels, for want of paring and exercise, were so high, that he limped along with much difficulty. A Dakhini, for which the Maharajah had given about £1000, in their opinion far exceeded Lylee in beauty.

Runjeet Singh’s passion for horses has passed into a proverb in the East: it amounted almost to insanity. He was never weary of talking to and caressing his favourite steeds; they were continually in his thoughts, and almost constantly in his sight, adorned in the most sumptuous style. Their bridles were overlaid with gold or enamel, a plume of heron’s feathers was fixed to the headstall, strings of jewels were hung round the animals’ neck, under which were fastened suleymans or onyx stones, highly prized on account of the superstitions connected with them. The saddles were likewise plated with enamel and gold, and set with precious stones, the pummels being particularly rich. The housings were of Cashmere shawls fringed with gold, and the crupper and the martingales were ornamented in the same style as the other furniture. Even a cart-horse, sent him by the King of England, was dressed out in the same fashion. His Majesty wished to make a suitable return for the shawl tent presented to him through Lord Amherst, by the old Lion of the Punjab, and a very extraordinary selection was made, upon whose advice is not known. A team of cart-horses—four mares, and one stallion, were sent out from England, under the notion that Runjeet would be glad to rear a larger breed than the native Punjabees. But the fact was, he cared only for showy saddle horses, of high courage, well broken in to the manège of Hindustan, that he could himself ride on parade, or on the road, or set his favourites upon. Accordingly, when the cart-horses arrived at his court, the stallion was immediately put into the breaker’s hands, and taught the usual artificial paces. This animal, with its enormous head and coarse legs, stood always in the palace yard, or before the tent of the chief, blazing with gold and precious stones, and was sometimes honoured by being crossed by Runjeet Singh himself. The mares were never looked at, and were held in utter indifference.

When Runjeet Singh had become weak, he adopted a singular method of mounting the tall horses on which he loved to ride. A man knelt down before him, over whose neck, he threw his leg, whereupon the man rose, with the Maharajah upon his shoulders, and approached the horse. Runjeet then putting his right foot into the stirrup, and holding by the horse’s mane, threw his left leg, over the man’s head and the back of the horse, into the stirrup on the other side.

The Persian cavalry was anciently the best in the East, but the improved incomparable Arab breed of horses was not then in existence. The modern Persian horses seldom exceed fourteen, or fourteen and a half hands high; but, on the whole, they are taller than the Arabs. Their usual fodder is barley and chopped straw; and they are fed and watered only at sunrise and sunset, when they are cleaned. Their bedding is horsedung, dried in the sun, and pulverized. They are carefully clad in clothing suited to the season, and in summer they are kept entirely under shade during the heat of the day. At night, besides having their heads secured with double ropes, the heels of their hind legs are confined by cords of twisted hair, fastened to iron rings and pegs, driven into the earth. The same custom prevailed in the time of Xenophon, and for the same reason: to secure them from attacking, and maiming each other. As a further precaution, their keepers always sleep on the rugs amongst them; but sometimes, notwithstanding all this care, they break loose, and then the combat ensues. A general neighing, screaming, kicking, and snorting, soon rouses the grooms, and the scene for a while is terrible. Indeed no one can conceive the sudden uproar of such a moment, who has not been in Eastern countries to hear it. They before their heads and haunches stream with blood. Even, in skirmishes with the natives, the horses take part in the fray, tearing each other with their teeth, while their masters are at similar close quarters on their backs.

The ancient Persians sedulously taught their children three things: to ride, to shoot with the bow, and to speak the truth. Their modern descendants never speak the truth when they can help it; archers they are not, although notorious for drawing the long bow; but horsemanship is still in great esteem amongst them. The following amusing anecdote is related by Sir John Malcolm:—

“Before the year 1800,” he says, “no political mission from an European nation had visited the court of Persia, for a century; but the English, though only known in that country as merchants, had fame as soldiers, from the report of their deeds in India. An officer of one of the frigates, who had gone ashore to visit the envoy, when mounted on a spirited horse, afforded no small entertainment to the Persians by his bad horsemanship. The next day, the man who supplied the ship with vegetables, and who spoke a little English, met him on board, and said, ‘Don’t be ashamed, sir, nobody knows you: bad rider! I tell them, you, like all English, ride well, but that time they see you, very drunk!’ We were much amused at this conception of our national character. The Persian thought it would have been a reproach for a man of a warlike nation not to ride well, but none for an European to get drunk.”

The horses of the Toorkmans, or Turkmans, are much esteemed in Persia, and in the adjacent countries. Turkestan, the native region of these nomads, lies north-east of the Caspian, but their tribes are widely dispersed over Persia, Asia Minor, and Syria. Their horses are large, swift, and possess extraordinary powers of endurance, though their figures are somewhat ungainly. When a Turkman starts on an expedition, he takes with him some hard balls of barley-meal, which are to serve both him and his horse for subsistence until his return. But sometimes in crossing the Desert, when he finds himself unusually faint and weary, he opens the jugular vein of his horse, and drinks a little of the animal’s blood, by which he is himself refreshed, and thinks that the horse, too, is relieved. Some of these men and horses have been known to travel nine hundred miles, in eleven successive days.

The Othmanlis or Ottomans, the founders of the great empire that bears their name, were a branch of the Turkman stock. Othman, the first of their dynasty, was the chief of a small horde, a mere handful of men; his grandson Amurath I, was he who conquered Adrianople. The first conquests of the Turks were achieved by freemen; but, after the taking of Constantinople, a new military institution was established; and the relation between the commander and his warlike servants resembled much more the personal subjection of the Mamelukes to their Beys, than the free allegiance owned by the bands of the west to their Condottieri. The invincible army of the Sultan—the terrible cavalry of whom it was proverbial, that

“—where the Spahi’s hoof hath trod, The verdure flies the bloody sod—”

and the Janissaries, who boasted that they had never fled in battle, were all slaves; torn from their Christian parents in childhood, and reared up under a system of discipline, admirably adapted to the end proposed. It combined the hardihood of the Spartans, the strictness and decorum of the monastic rule, with every encouragement that could nurture the aspiring spirit, and confirm the devoted fidelity of the young soldier. The youths thus brought up, forgot their childhood, their parents, their homes; knew no native land, but the Serai; no lord and father, but the Grand Signior; no will, but his; no hope, but of his favour: they knew no life, but one passed in rigid discipline and unconditional obedience; no occupation, but war in the Sultan’s service; no personal purpose, unless it were plunder in this life, and, in death, the paradise thrown open to him who fought for Islam. The glory of the Moslem is departed, and the Sultan’s army is now a rabble, more formidable to their friends, than to their enemies—but let us see what they were in the plenitude of their strength.

First, we behold the Timarli marshalled beneath the banners of their respective corps; they carry bows and quivers, iron maces and daggers, scimitars and lances; they know how to use these various weapons, at the right moment, with the utmost dexterity; they are trained with rare skill to pursue, and to retire, now to hang back in alert suspense, now to dash forward and scour the country. Their horses, too, claim attention; they come mostly from Syria, where they have been reared with the utmost care, and fondled almost like children. Judges indeed, objected that they were somewhat ticklish to the stirrup, apt to swerve aside, and hardmouthed; this, however, was rather the fault of the riders, who used severe bits, and short stirrups; otherwise the animals were docile, serviceable, as well on mountainous and stony ground, as on the plain; indefatigable, and always full of spirit. The most accomplished riders were furnished from many a district. It was surprising to see them hurl their maces before them, gallop after them, and catch them again ere they fell. Turning half round, with the horses at full speed, they would discharge their arrows backwards, with unerring aim. Next to these, the Porte sent forth its paid Spahis and its Janissaries. The former, in addition to their scimitars, were armed with lances, bearing small flags; some were also furnished with bows. A few were equipped with coats of mail and morions, but rather for show than for service; their round shields, and their turbans, seemed to them defence enough. The Janissaries, lastly, marched in long flowing garments, armed with scimitars and arquebus; in their girdles the handjar, and the small hatchet; dense in their array, their plumes like a forest. It was as though the camp was the true home of this people. Not only was it kept in admirable order, so that not an oath or altercation was to be heard, no drunken man, no gambling was to be seen in it, nor any thing to be found that would offend either sight or smell; it was also to be remarked, that the life the soldier led at home was but meagre, and sorry, compared with the magnificence of the camp. For every ten Janissaries, the Sultan maintained a horse to carry their baggage; every five and twenty had a tent, that served them in common; in these they observed the regulations of their barracks, and the elder were waited on by the younger. No Spahi was so mean that he did not possess a tent of his own. How gallant and glittering was their array, as they rode in their silken surcoats, their parti-coloured, richly-wrought shields on their left arms, their right hands grasping the costly mounted sword, feathers of all hues waving in their turbans! But surpassingly splendid was the appearance of their leaders. Jewels hung from their horses’ ears, and studded their saddles and housings; chains of gold depended from their bridles. The tents shone with Turkish and Persian decorations; here the booty was laid up, and a numerous retinue of eunuchs and slaves, were in attendance.

The modern Turks in general, prefer the Turkman horse, to the more slender Arabian of pure blood. Their style of riding is very trying to the limbs of the animal, their most favourite manœuvre being to make a dead stop when gallopping at the utmost speed. In order to practise this injurious trick, they use a terribly severe bit, which destroys all the fine sensibility of the mouth. The Bedouins, on the contrary, never use any thing more severe than a snaffle. One of the most precious qualities of the Turkman horse, according to some amateurs, is the admirable instinct with which it seconds its rider in the fight, and itself takes an active part against the foe.

Stevens, in his travels in Egypt, describes a curious scene, highly characteristic of the Turk, and his equestrian sports:—

“It was an excessively hot day,” he says; “you, who were hovering over your coal fires, or moving about wrapped in cloaks or greatcoats, can hardly believe that, on the 20th of January, the Arabs were refreshing their heated bodies by a bath in the Nile, and that I was lying under my tent actually panting for breath. I had plenty to occupy me, but the heat was too intense; the sun seemed to scorch the brain, while the sands blistered the feet. I think it was the hottest day I experienced on the Nile.

“While leaning on my elbow, looking out of the door of my tent towards the temple of Luxor, I saw a large body of Arabs, on foot, on dromedaries, and on horseback, coming down towards the river. They came about half-way across the sandy plain between the temple and the river, and stopped nearly opposite to my tent, so as to give me a full view of all their movements. The slaves and pipe-bearers immediately spread mats on the sand, on which the principal persons seated themselves; and, while they were taking coffee and pipes, others were making preparations for equestrian exercises. The forms and ceremonies presented to my mind a lively picture of preparing the lists of a tournament; and the intense heat and scorching sands reminded me of the great passage of arms in Scott’s Crusaders, near the Diamond of the Desert, on the shores of the Dead Sea.

“The parties were on horseback, holding in their right hands long wooden spears, the lower ends resting on the sand, close together, and forming a pivot around which their movements were made. They rode round in a circle, with their spears in the sand, and their eyes keenly fixed on each other, watching an opportunity to strike; chased, turned, and doubled, but never leaving the pivot; occasionally the spears were raised, crossed, and struck together, and a murmuring ran through the crowd like the cry in the fencing-scene in Hamlet, ‘a hit, a fair hit’ and the parties separated, or again dropped their poles in the centre for another round. The play for some time seemed confined to slaves and dependents; and among them, and decidedly the most skilful, was a young Nubian. His master, a Turk, who was sitting on the mat, seemed particularly pleased with his success.

“The whole of this seemed merely a preliminary, designed to stir up the dormant spirit of the masters. For a long time they sat quietly puffing their pipes, and probably longing for the stimulus of a battle-cry to rouse them from their torpor. At length one of them, the master of the Nubian, slowly rose from the mat, and challenged an antagonist. Slowly he laid down his pipe, and took and raised the pole in his hand; but still he was not more than half roused. A fresh horse was brought him, and, without taking off his heavy cloth mantle, he drowsily placed his left foot in the broad shovel stirrup, his right on the rump of the horse, behind the saddle, and swung himself into the seat. The first touch of the saddle seemed to rouse him; he took the pole from the hand of his attendant, gave his horse a severe check, and, driving the heavy corners of the stirrups into his sides, dashed through the sand on a full run. At the other end of the course he stopped, rested a moment or two, then again driving his irons into his horse, dashed back at full speed; and when it seemed as if his next step would carry him headlong among the Turks on the mat, with one jerk he threw his horse back on his haunches, and brought him up from a full run to a dead stop. This seemed to warm him a little; his attendant came up and took of his cloak, under which he had a red silk jacket and white trowsers, and again he dashed through the sand, and back as before. This time he brought up his horse with furious vehemence; his turban became unrolled, he flew into a violent passion, tore it off and threw it on the sand, and, leaving his play, fiercely struck the spear of his adversary, and the battle at once commenced. The Turk, who had seemed too indolent to move, now showed a fire, and energy, and an endurance of fatigue, that would have been terrible in battle. Both horse and rider scorned the blazing sun and burning sands, and round and round they ran, chasing, turning, and doubling within an incredibly small circle, till an approving murmur was heard among the crowd. The trial was now over, and the excited Turk again seated himself upon the mat, and relapsed into a state of calm indifference.”