ÆäÀÌÁö À̹ÌÁö
PDF
ePub
[ocr errors][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

"Hast thou given the horse strength? hast thou clothed his neck with thunder? Canst thou make him afraid as a grashopper? The glory of his nostrils is terrible.

He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength: he goeth on to meet the armed men.

He mocketh at fear, and is not affrighted; neither turneth he back from the sword.

The quiver rattleth against him, the glittering spear and the shield.

He swalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage: neither believeth he that it is the sound of the trumpet.

He saith among the trumpets, Ha, ba; and he smelleth the battle afar off, the thunder of the captains, and the shouting.”—Job xxxix, 19 to 25.

Of all the animals of the creation which have been domesticated by man, there is none perhaps that equals the horse in general utility, or whose qualities are more highly deserving of our admiration. Some of our readers may possibly hesitate in allowing him this distinction, and may be ready to advance the superior claims of the cow, who so largely contributes to our food; or the sheep, who supplies us with both food and clothing. But while living, the services of the horse are beyond all competition; and if the custom of more civilized nations has forbidden us from placing his flesh upon our table, I should be in-. clined to hope, that this prohibition was imposed by a feeling of gratitude to a creature who had so nobly served us while in existence, did we not without remorse make over his remains to our dogs, and thus deprive ourselves of a feast which a Tartar or a Brazilian might be disposed to envy. I am told that the flesh of the horse is peculiarly sweet and good; that it nearly resembles beef, and that nothing but habitual prejudice has denied it access to our tables. The late Lord Rokeby, who was a man of singular taste and humour, used often to indulge in this peculiar meat; and when he killed a colt, he would offer a haunch to his friend, persuaded that the gift deserved acceptance as much as a side of venison, though he seldom found a companion ambitious to share a repast upon which he frequently regaled himself.

Our British housewives, who pride themselves on their dairies, would probably look with some contempt upon the Arabian ladies, who wean their children on mare's milk, and form it into butter in a bag made from the horse's mane. All our countrymen, however, who have traversed the parched deserts of that neglected country, speak with grateful remembrance of the refreshing nutriment thus afforded them. In South America, we are instructed by Mr. Mawe, that horseflesh is

[ocr errors]

not only a staple commodity in the Shambles, but that fuel, and even furniture, are supplied from the remains of this noble animal. The astonishing herds of wild horses which inhabit these regions, furnish the natives with hides to an unlimited amount as an article of com. merce. The carcases are left to wither beneath the scorching beams of the sun, until they become entirely destitute of moisture, and fit to be used (as we do peat) for the fire; and he assures us that the natives may be seen at their homely meals reposing on a seat formed entirely of horses' skulls. This description may be read with some feeling of horror, without reflecting that we make almost as free with his remains ourselves. If we rest on his back while living, we repose on beds and cushions stuffed with his hair after his decease. To him the angler is indebted for his most delicate tackle; and the trunk-maker and the saddler derive their best materials from his hide. Not many years ago a bold speculator proceeded a step further. By subjecting the whole carcase to a peculiar process, he converted it into spermaceti, of which he made excellent candles. Some of our readers may not be aware, perhaps, that this change is effected even on the human body under a peculiar soil.

[ocr errors]

An Arab considers his horse as his most valuable possession. He preserves his pedigree with a jealous exactness far surpassing that of the best steeds of Newmarket; and if a Racing Kalendar were published at Cairo, the compilers would trace back the ancestry of their favourite coursers to an era sufficiently remote to baffle the skill of a whole college of antiquaries. The horses of Arabia are distinguished not more for their matchless symmetry than for the gentleness and docility of their temper. As soon as a colt is born, it becomes one of the Arab's family, and is reared in the tent with his children. The dam is tethered close by its side, and they live together in the utmost harmony. Travellers may see them sporting and playing together, and the little children tie garlands about its neck, and caress it with the warmest affection. In the barbarous state of these wandering tribes, the Arab is continually compelled to trust his life to the speed of his horse, whom he manages with surprising dexterity. In every movement he is seconded by the prompt obedience of his faithful steed, to whom at all times he is ready to sacrifice his own comforts, thus promoting mu tual confidence and good-will.

Though no great admirer of Arabs, I would gladly transplant into our island some of their benevolence to the horse; for though no people in the world are so jealous as we are, of our national reputation, we have little to boast over other nations as to our conduct to these much-injured beings. In no foreign country have I ever witnessed more brutal treatment towards them than in England. Our hardness of heart, indeed, seems to increase in proportion to the exertions they make in our service; and to have worn out their health and strength in labouring for our profit or amusement, is too commonly made a plea for disposing of them to some miscreant, who tortures their last days with the most unfeeling barbarity. Not long since, I was remarking to a stage coachman the evident distress of one of his horses, when

1

the man coolly replied, "Yes, Sir; he can't run much longer; he is now good for nothing; he has done his work, and therefore my master has given me orders to work him to death."

[ocr errors]

See that poor famished creature trembling beneath his burden-his eye withered his knees bent and bleeding, while he is urged forward by the merciless lash of a brutal driver. Few years are past since Hero was the pride of the Milton Hunt. Whenever he appear ed, all eyes were delighted with his action and figure-all tongues praised his spirit and his speed. He seemed to enjoy the public ap plause; he bounded along the turf his head erect his eye flashing fire, as he led the whole field. Was his master cruel? Did he under value his worth? Who would believe the assertion? His horse was his boast: he loved him better than wife or child. He never entered the stable without caressing him. He repeatedly refused hundreds for his purchase. Whence, then, this sad reverse? Hero was ruined by his own merits! He had performed such exploits in the chase, that nothing was thought unequal to his powers. Provoked by a tempting wager, his master urged him to a mad leap he failed, and fell in the attempt. The rider barely escaped with his life. The horse was utterly ruined; and in a moment of vexation was sold for a few pounds on the spot. A rapid gradation brought him to his present condition. The purchaser soon disposed of him to a post-chaise, from which he was degraded to a hackney coach, and now he drags a dust cart, where probably another week of torment will close his miserable career.

One would suppose that no feeling mind could contemplate the daily sufferings of these noble animals without a heartach. Yet do we not all contribute to support this systematic cruelty? Who hesi tates to mount an overloaded stage-coach, in consideration of the poor sufferers that are harnessed to it? Who scruples to instruct a postilion to "make the best of his way," when business or pleasure urge him to despatch? The benevolent spirit which would hesitate to add one more link to the galling chain of slavery under which these patient creatures now groan, would be derided as the sickly affectation of sensibility. Yet these terrible sufferings might undoubtedly be spared, if a common sense of mercy actuated the public feeling. Few ladies of fashion now think of the carriage-horses that are "coughing their own knell" at the door, while they are admiring and admired by the brilliant circle of the drawing-room; nor does the country wench, seated on the roof of the "diligence," and burning with curiosity for the first sight of London, participate in the pangs of the poor jaded wretches who pánt and tremble at the inn door, while the hostler sweeps off the foam with an iron hoop. If matters were reversed,—if we were brought to the bar of conscience, and horses were the jury, few of us would escape condemnation. The patience and gentleness of the horse's character, which ought to secure our kindness, too often serves but to augment his sufferings; and did he invoke our mercy by his cries, what a dreadful din would every turnpike-road re-echo!

Next to the admirable temper of this noble animal, nothing is more-

remarkable than his sagacity. Most of us have witnessed his surprising sense in exploring a difficult or dangerous road, and the extraordinary memory which leads him to choose aright, when his rider, after long debate at a cross-way, at length throws the bridle on his neck. We admire too his almost rational caution in trying the ground when the bog trembles under his feet; his knowledge of his master; his attachment to the groom that feeds him; his fondness for his profession; shown by his eagerness in the chase, or his rivalry in the race. Another proof of this is given by the martial spirit which cavalry horses are well known to acquire. When a boy, I was permitted to ride a charger 26 years old, belonging to the late Colonel Gardner, which had been presented to my father. This horse had seen much service, and had been shot through the neck, but was yet vigorous and active. The sound of a drum was music in his ears; the instant he heard it, he galloped off with me, regardless of the reins, and would amble and caper by the side of the performers, showing the most unequivocal marks of delight and satisfaction.

Let me add another example of the sagacity of the horse, as comical as it is curious. I received the anecdote many years ago in the East Indies, from the lips of the worthy officer to whom it occurred. This gentleman (the late General Pater) was a remarkably fat man. While stationed at Madras he purchased a charger, which, after a short trial, all at once betook himself to a trick of lying down whenever he prepared to get upon his back. Every expedient was tried without suc cess to cure him of the trick, and the laugh was so much indulged against the General's corpulency, that he found it convenient to dispose of his horse to a young officer quitting the settlement for a distant station up the country. Upwards of two years had subsequently elapsed, when, in the execution of his official duties, General Pater left Madras to inspect one of the frontier cantonments. He travelled, äs is the usual custom in India, in his palankeen (a covered couch carried on men's shoulders). The morning after his arrival at the station, the troops were drawn out ; and, as he had brought no horses, it was proper to provide for his being suitably mounted, though it was not very easy to find a charger equal to his weight. At length an officer resigned to him a powerful horse for the occasion, which was brought out, duly caparisoned, in front of the line. The General came forth from his tent, and proceeded to mount; but the instant the horse saw him advance, he flung himself flat upon the sand, and neither blows nor entreaties could induce him to rise. It was the General's old charger, who, from the moment of quitting his service, had never once practised the artifice until this second meeting. The General, who was an exceedingly good-humoured man, joined heartily in the universal shout that ran through the whole line on witnessing this ludicrous affair.

I will close this account of the horse with an anecdote of a very uncommon character.

In the year 1807, when Bonaparte marched his army into the North of Europe, to accomplish his vast plan of universal dominion, the Spanish forces then co-operating with them, amounting to 10,000

men, under the command of the gallant Marquis of Romana, was sta tioned on the Danish coast, on the side of the Great Belt. Knowing the abhorrence in which the French usurper was held by Romana and his troops, it became an object of great importance to the English Government to detach them from the French. The Spanish soldiers at that moment burned with impatience to join their fellow-countrymen at home, who had just commenced the noble struggle to release them selves from gallic oppression, which was finally accomplished by the achievements of the British army in the Peninsula. A friendly understanding having been secretly established with Romana, Sir Richard Keats was despatched with a naval force to embark them; and by as masterly operation, which drew upon that distinguished officer the admiration of the whole army, this important service was effected®TM without the loss of a man. The troops were marched down to the beach, about four miles below Nyeborg, and immediately embarked in the British boats, but it was found impracticable to bring off the horses of those regiments which formed the Spanish cavalry. Policy suggested the expediency of destroying them, lest they should fall into the hands of the French, but this was very repugnant to the feelings of Romana, who was himself fond of horses, and knew the attachment of every one of his troopers to the faithful animal which had carried him through all his hardships. The Marquis therefore ordered the bridles to be taken off, and the horses to be set at liberty on the beach. And now commenced a scene of the most surprising description. As they moved off, they passed two or three of the country horses and mares which were feeding at a little distance. A most. furious and general conflict ensued. In a quarter of an hour prodigious numbers lay dead or disabled. They seemed to preserve a military spirit and order in their attacks, charging each other in squadrons of ten or twenty together, within a few paces of their former masters, of whom they still appeared to have that instinctive awe with which the Creator has impressed all the "beasts of the field." They would then closely engage, and again burst away to a distance, striking especially with their fore-feet, biting and tearing each other in the most ferocious manner, thus exhibiting the deadliest hostility. The two commanders stood together, gazing upon them with wonder. In one spot close to them lay thirteen in a heap. Other groupes of six and eight were seen lying at a little distance; the whole shore was strewed with the dying or the dead; while the survivors still furiously continued the combat, trampling over the mangled carcases of their comrades. The horses of one regiment had been set loose in a field on a rising ground at a short distance. So soon as they heard the roar of the battle, they also came thundering down over the intermediate hedges, and plunged into the conflict with equal fury.

The Marquis, anxious to put an end to this scene of horror, now gave orders to destroy them; but this was become both dangerous and impracticable, for the men dared not approach sufficiently near, and these attempts seemed but to exasperate the infuriated animals; and long after the boats quitted the beach with the rear guard of the

« ÀÌÀü°è¼Ó »