THE coming of Mahomet, who announced himself prophet about the year 611 A.D., marks an epoch in the history of nations, and it serves also as a landmark, if one may express it so, in the horse's progress in its bearing upon the world's history.

At intervals throughout the Koran, which Mahomet compiled probably about 610, we come upon direct allusions to the horse in the part it played at that time in the growth of what must be termed civilisation. Probably Mahomet realised more fully than any of his contemporaries how indispensable to the human race the horse had by this time become, for in one passage in the Koran he puts a strange utterance into the mouth of the Almighty, whom he represents as apostrophising the horse, telling it that it shall be “for man a source of happiness and wealth,” adding, “thy back shall be a seat of honour, and thy belly of riches, and every grain of barley given to thee shall purchase indulgence for the sinner,” while in another place he declares that “every grain of barley given to a horse is entered by God in the Register of Good Works.”

He describes in an interesting way the horse of the Archangel Gabriel, to which the name Haizum was given, also Dhuldul, the peerless steed of his son-in-law, Ali, and his own milk-white mule, Fadda. All this is the more remarkable when we bear in mind that in the centuries that preceded Mahomet's birth the Arab race was practically a nonentity in so far as the continual struggles for supremacy in Egypt and in Western Asia were concerned, when the great Assyrian, Babylonian, Egyptian, Persian, Median, Roman and Macedonian tribes fought with such dogged determination and proved each in turn more or less victorious.

Yet it is more than likely—some of our leading historians pronounce positively upon this point—that if in the years just before Mahomet's birth the tribes had not become possessed of a staunch race of horses, and devoted much time to perfecting themselves in horsemanship in the true meaning of the term, Islam would have remained unchanged instead of almost revolutionising the world in the way it did.

Small wonder, therefore, that Mahomet was enthusiastic—unduly enthusiastic many even among his disciples maintained him to be—in striving to promote among his own people a fondness for horses. Undoubtedly it was owing to this that when at last Mahomet died some of the best-bred steeds in existence were to be found among the horses in the region of Nejd.

In Mahomet's era it was that stirrups first came to be used regularly by both cavalry and what were termed “private horsemen”—the latter we should to-day call civilians. True stirrups most likely were invented and introduced by the Teutonic people of the Lower Rhine and the region adjoining, for we know there was no Latin or Greek term for a stirrup, and as the Teutonic tribes were large men of heavy build they naturally would be much more likely to feel the need of assistance when mounting than would men of small stature, light and agile, who must have been able to vault on to their horses without difficulty.

The English term “stirrup” probably is a contraction of the early English “stige-rap,” a word that comes from “stigan,” to mount, and “rap,” rope—in short, a mounting-rope. In the eighth century A.D. the Angles were using saddle horses in large numbers, according to the Venerable Bede, some of whose writings, however, are said not to bear the impress of strict veracity. Yet it is probable that he speaks of what he knew when he tells us that about the year 631 A.D. “the English first began to saddle horses,” while many of the horsemen who opposed the incursion of the hordes of Romans are known beyond dispute to have been mounted on saddled horses.

Mention of the mare, Alborak, called also Borak, must be made—though only a mythical animal—as she was said to have carried Mahomet from earth into the seventh heaven. “She was milk-white,” we are told, like Fadda, the mule, with “the wings of an eagle and a human face with a horse's cheeks,” while “every pace she took was equal to the farthest range of human sight.” In Arabic the word means literally “the lightning.”

Procopius, who wrote in the sixth century A.D., is looked upon generally as a dependable authority, and probably upon most occasions he wrote the truth. Yet he would seem to have made one or two rather grave misstatements when speaking of the horse in its relation to the history of his time.

In an interesting way he describes certain stirring scenes in the war between the Angli who had settled in Britain and the Varni—the Werini of the “Leges Barbarorum”—whose region lay chiefly east of the Rhine. The direct cause of this war was the positive refusal of the king of the Varni to marry an Anglian princess to whom he had been affianced for a considerable time.

“These islanders,” wrote Procopius, referring to the Angli, “are the most valiant of all the barbarians with whom we are acquainted, and they fight on foot. For not only do they not know how to ride, but it is their lot not even to know what a horse is like, since in this island they do not see a horse, even in a picture, for this animal seems never to have existed in Britain. But if at any time it should happen that some of them, either on an embassy, or for some other reason, should be living with Romans or Franks, or with anyone else that hath horses, and it should there be necessary for them to ride on horseback, they are unable to mount, but other men have to help them up and set them on their horses' backs; and again, when they wish to dismount, they have to be lifted, and set down on the ground. Neither are the Varni horsemen, but they too are all infantry. Such then are these barbarians.”

Clearly he misstated facts in this instance, for it is beyond dispute that horses were known in Britain at the time to which he refers. For the rest the description may be considered more or less accurate.

It is interesting to note in this connection that whereas in the tombs of the Anglo-Saxons the shield and the weapons of the buried warrior are usually discovered, bits and harness are found in these tombs in rare instances only. On the other hand in the Scandinavian barrows in Scotland the bones of men and horses mixed have been discovered frequently.

Perhaps the first historical allusion to horse racing, as we understand it now, and to “running” horses, as race horses continued to be called for many centuries afterwards, is the one that occurs in the ninth century A.D., when Hugh, the founder of the royal house of Capet, in France, made a present of running horses to King Athelstan in the hope that in return the king might allow him to wed his sister, Ethelswitha.

Hengist and Horsa are said by some historians to have displayed interest in horse racing, but the statement is not based upon indisputable evidence, any more than the assertion that because Hengist and Horsa are alleged by one historian at least to have given the order that forms of horses should be cut upon the chalk hills of Berkshire therefore all the Saxon banners must have borne as a device a white horse.

The white horse at Wantage other historians declare to have been cut in commemoration of Alfred's great victory over the Danes at the battle of Æscendun or Ashtreehill, during the reign of his brother, Ethelred I. Its length is 374 feet, and even at a distance of nearly fifteen miles it is distinctly visible in clear weather. This recalls to mind the device of the House of Hanover—a white horse galloping; and of the House of Savoy—a white horse rampant.

Mention must here be made of the immortal Roland and his equally famous horse, Veillantiff, though owing to the pair have figured so largely in romance the actual truth about them can be traced only with difficulty.

We may take it for granted, however, that Roland was the son of Milo, Duke of Aiglant; that he was Count of Mans and Knight of Blaives; and that his mother was Bertha, the sister of Charlemagne. Orlando is the name by which he is known in Italian romance; Vegliantino the name of his horse; and he figures prominently in Theroulde's “Chanson de Roland,” in the romance, “Chroniq de Turpin,” and of course in Ariosto's epic of Mad Roland and Boiardo's “Orlando in Love.” He was said to be eight feet tall and to have “an open countenance which invited confidence and inspired respect,” also to have been “brave, loyal and simple-minded.”

The story of his slaying at Fronsac, in single combat, the Saracen tyrant and giant, Angoulaffre, as described in “Croquemitaine,” naturally is fiction. He desired, it was said, by way of reward to marry Aude, the fair daughter of Sir Gerard and Lady Guibourg, but Roland was slain at Roncesvalles in the Pyrenees during the return march from Saragossa, while in command of the rear-guard, being caught “together with the flower of the French chivalry” in an ambuscade and massacred to a man. Aude is said to have died of grief upon hearing the news.

Roland's horse, Veillantiff, must have been an incomparable charger and more intelligent than even his master, for it is related that whenever Roland was hard pressed Veillantiff obtained knowledge of the fact in some mysterious way and at once carried Roland out of danger so far as he was able.

Equally intelligent in this respect was the charger named Orelia, owned by Roderick, the last of the Goths. According to Southey this horse too was renowned for its shape and speed. Indeed Southey based the story of his famous epic upon the historical record of the defeat of Roderick in 711 A.D., at the battle of Guadalete, near Xeres de la Frontera. Roderick, the thirty-fourth and last of the old Visigothic kings, himself attributed his victories in a great measure to the courage of his horses, and apparently he was proud of all his horses for we read that he “bitterly bemoaned the death of any one of them.” Another remarkable and famous steed was Trebizond, the grey charger of Admiral Guarinos, one of the French knights taken prisoner at Roncesvalles.

Alfana, the clever mare mentioned in Ariosto's “Orlando Furioso” as belonging to Gradasso, King of Sericana, whom Ariosto describes as “the bravest of the Pagan knights,” has many legends attached to it.

Thus upon occasions Gradasso who, though famous as a knight, was an unconscionable bully, would treat Alfana with grotesque kindness, at other times beating it unmercifully; and when, with 100,000 vassals in his train, “all discrowned kings”(!) who never addressed him except upon their knees, he went to war against Charlemagne, the mare, Alfana, played a prominent part.

Though in these pages but few allusions have been made to the horses of mythology, modern interest in mythological history being at a very low ebb, the mysterious eight-legged grey steed of Odin, chief god of Scandinavia, must not be passed unnoticed. His name was Sleipnir, and inasmuch as he could travel over earth and ocean he was deemed to be typical of the wind that blows over land and water from eight principal and far-distant points.

According to Beowulf—composed probably in the eighth century—the Scandinavians set great value upon their steeds, especially upon their dun-coloured horses, their apple-dun horses and their white horses. Therefore it seems almost odd that the early Norse settlers in Iceland should have indulged as largely as they undoubtedly did in the brutal “sport” of horse fighting, a form of amusement that to this day is in vogue in parts of Siam.

The saga of Burnt Njal, with its scene laid in the tenth century, refers repeatedly to incidents in which the horse plays a chief part. The description of the mighty encounter between the horse of Starkad and the horse of Gunnar of Lithend is peculiarly disagreeable, but as it gives us probably a very accurate idea of the way in which these horse battles were arranged and carried out, it is worth quoting almost in full.

Starkad, we are told, had “a good horse of chestnut hue, and it was thought that no horse was his match in fight.” The horse that Gunnar of Lithend decided to pit against it was a brown. It is practically upon the result of this fight that the famous tragedy turns.

“And now men ride to the horse fight,” we read, “and a very great crowd was gathered together. Gunnar and his friends were there, and Starkad and his sons.... Gunnar was in a red kirtle, and had about his loins a broad belt, and a riding rod in his hand. Then the horses ran at one another, and bit each other long, so that there was no need for anyone to touch them, and that was the greatest sport! Then Thorgeir and Kol made up their minds that they would push their horse forward just as the horses rushed together, and see if Gunnar would fall before him.

“Now the horses ran at one another again, and both Thorgeir and Kol ran alongside their horse's flank. Gunnar pushed his horse against them, and what happened in a trice was this, that Thorgeir and his brother fell flat down on their backs, and their horse atop of them!”

Soon after this the horse battle developed into a serious encounter between the partisans of the respective animals, with the result that Gunnar's horse had an eye gouged out by Thorgeir. In the library at Reykjavik a very interesting picture representing a horse battle of this kind is still to be seen.

We have now seen how, from the very earliest time until the eve of the Norman Conquest, the horse played a prominent part in the world's history. More than any other animal it had helped, either directly or indirectly, to bring about great victories, to develop and strengthen the courage of nations, to mould the character of men, and to add in several ways to life's pleasure.

That the horse should have been almost worshipped by the very tribes who offered up living horses as sacrifices to their gods has been pronounced paradoxical by some writers; yet there was nothing inconsistent about this, for in all times when sacrifices have been common those offering sacrifice have given what they most cherished or esteemed.

What is remarkable is the fact that, of all animals known to have existed in the different countries and in the different regions of those countries to which reference has been made, the horse stands alone as man's direct assistant, one might say ally; and, in addition, the horse is the one animal with a history traceable through the early centuries, owing to the almost unbroken line of references made to it in the story of the human race and progress towards civilisation.

How far advanced the world would have been at the time of the Conqueror's landing, how far advanced it would be to-day, had the horse not played so prominent a part in its development, none can say. There can be no doubt, however, but that the human race would have advanced far more slowly had the employment of horses been withheld.

Of mythical horses that have “existed,” the name is legion. To deal at length with these strange creatures would need a volume half as large as this is. I have mentioned that few save scholars to-day take interest in mythology, so I shall refer only to some half-a-dozen of the many horses of fable and of mythology whose names are household words.

Pegasus, the winged horse of Apollo and the Muses, is perhaps the best known by repute. The name of course is Greek, and means, more or less, “one born near the ocean,” and according to the famous fable Perseus rode Pegasus when rescuing Andromeda.

Frequently in history we find a ship alluded to as “Perseus' flying horse.” Thus in the story of the destruction of Troy, “Perseus conquered the head of Medusa, and did make Pegase, the most swift ship, which he always calls Perseus' flying horse,” while Shakespeare in Troilus and Cressida speaks of “The strong-ribbed bark through liquid mountains cut ... like Perseus' horse.”

How Perseus beheaded Medusa, chief of the Gorgons, and how everyone who afterwards looked at the head with its hair turned into snakes by the jealous goddess Minerva was then and there transformed into stone is too well known to need repetition at length here.

Selene, the moon goddess, usually represented in a chariot drawn by fiery white horses—to some extent this is inconsistent, seeing that from time almost immemorial white horses have notoriously been the least fiery of any—must be mentioned, for the famous cast or model of Selene's horse shown in the British Museum indicates clearly the stamp of animal that was most highly prized about that period. According to Greek mythology, Selene was in love with the setting sun, Endymion, and bore him fifty daughters in addition to those she bore the god Zeus.

Achilles' remarkable steed, Xanthos, was, we are told, “human to all intents.” When “severely spoken to” by its master because on the battlefield it had deserted Patroclos, the horse first “looked about him sadly,” and then, according to the “Iliad,” it told Achilles with a reproachful expression in its eyes that he too would soon be dead, for that this was “the inexorable decree of destiny”—a prophecy that came true.

Achilles owned also the wonderful horse, Balios, which first of all Neptune had given to Peleus. The sire of Balios, like the sire of Xanthos, was the West Wind, its dam the harpy, Swift Foot.

According to Virgil the famous horse of Greek mythology, Cyllaros, belonged to Pollux, and was named after Cylla, in Troas. Ovid, however affirms that it belonged to Castor, for in his “Metamorphose” he says, when speaking of Cyllaros, that “He, O Castor, was a courser worthy thee ... coal-black his colour, but like jet it shone: His legs and flowing tail were white alone.” Then, Adrastos was saved at the siege of Thebes by a horse famous for its speed and given to him by Hercules. Its name was Arion, and Neptune was said to have caused it to rise out of the earth, using his trident as a magic wand. The name is Greek for “martial,” hence the signification, “war horse,” given to it in this instance. We read that “its right feet were those of a human creature,” “it spoke with a human voice,” and “ran with incredible swiftness.”

Perhaps one of the most notorious horses of Persian mythology is Reksh, a steed that belonged to Rustam, the Persian Hercules, son of Zal, and Prince of Sedjistan. Rustam became famous chiefly on account of his great battle with the white dragon, Asdeev. The description of Rustam's deadly encounter with his son, Sohrab—it ended in the latter's death—is described in Matthew Arnold's poem, “Sohrab and Rustam” in very fine language.

But even these few references to horses of mythology may be pronounced dull reading in this prosaic age, so for the present I will leave the subject and come down to earth once more. It is interesting to learn that the Arab race, apparently from the time when it first began to breed horses, was wont to trace the pedigrees of its horses through the dams and not through the sires, in the same way that in ancient days this people traced its own lineage. The reason the Arabs did so remains to this day a moot point, though it would seem almost certain that in common with the Veneti they believed the selection of the dam to be of more vital importance than the selection of the stallion in order to secure good stock.

Indeed even now there are races who hold this view, and to confirm their opinion they quote Aristotle, who also maintained that pedigrees ought by rights to be traced through the female line. Nor are they at all peculiar, for some of the foremost among modern breeders of horses hold that in almost every case the qualities of the dam descend more directly than do those of the sire.

We have now come to what may be termed the second period of the horse in history—the period that begins with William the Conqueror's reign and ends with the Stuart Period. From very early centuries down to the coming of Christ, and from the coming of Christ down to the Norman invasion, all the records bearing directly upon the horse in its relation to the world's progress are necessarily open to criticism, for almost all historical records of that period have to be accepted with some reserve.

It may be said, indeed, that no two historians prior to the Conquest can be found who agree in detail one with the other, while some there are whose statements are almost diametrically opposed. In compiling these pages, therefore, I have tried to use discretion.

Apparently an impression is prevalent amongst historians that the horses of the centuries before the Conquest, and therefore presumably also the horses of the period that preceded the birth of Christ, lived longer than those of later times.

What can have given rise to this idea it is hard to say, and that the belief most likely is fallacious we are led to infer from the statements of those early writers who state definitely the ages at which their favourite chargers died.

Yet at least two of our modern historians assert that the horses of the early Greeks and Romans lived to the age of thirty-five or more, upon an average.

That such misstatement should continue to be handed down is very regrettable; while equally to be deprecated is the habit common more especially among the younger school of French historians of applying the principles of the higher criticism in cases where such criticism ipso facto cannot hold good, the result being that conclusions are arrived at which in many instances are wholly false.

To take a single case in point—rather a well-known Continental antiquary mentions in his historical essays that during the period approximately between the coming of Christ and the reign of William the Conqueror horses practically the world over “went out of use more and more.”

By “the world over” he means, of course, as much of the world as was known in those days, but the statement is none the less incorrect, and it seems clear that he must have come to this false conclusion through inferring that because in certain regions the designs upon the ancient monuments, and in some instances the figures upon the coinage, represent a horse, or horses and chariots, the monuments and coins of a later date show only an unmounted warrior.

The true reason of this, however, probably is that the later monuments were erected, and the later coins struck, at a period when neither famous battles were being fought nor great contests of skill decided. Students of history well know, indeed, that the monarchs as well as the great chiefs and leaders in the early centuries before the Conquest, and to some extent in the centuries after it, almost invariably commemorated upon their monuments, coins and parchments such events as happened to be of importance at the moment, or, as we should say to-day, of passing interest only.

Indeed, as I have endeavoured to show, one of the most noticeable features about the horse in its relation to history is the manner in which it gradually influenced the development of the various nations. The early Libyan horses were famous for what must be described as their gentleness and their intelligence, characteristics which apparently marked some of the Libyan races.

The horses of Europe, on the other hand, were vicious in various ways, and less tractable, but also they were less timid than the Libyan horses.

It is curious to read, then, that the European races that owned these horses had several characteristics in common. In addition it is well known that in the mÊlÉe of a battle the horses of the contending armies quite commonly bit savagely one at another, and some of the early writers whose utterances can be relied upon maintain that even in the thick of the fight such horses but rarely bit or savaged horses other than the enemy's, and the enemy themselves.

Another point worth noting is that though often in the early ages horses were immolated, yet deliberate cruelty to a horse upon other occasions was almost universally condemned by law. No precautions, however, were taken for the prevention of cruelty to any other sort of animal.

This is, in itself, significant, for it can hardly be supposed that unnecessary cruelty to horses was condemned from the standpoint of the humanitarian. Probably it was the horse's usefulness to mankind that served to guard him against ill-usage, and, as we shall see presently, it was this same usefulness that protected him from ill-treatment in centuries long after the Conquest.

Indeed there are parts of the world where to this day horses are well treated because to ill-use them is deemed unwise policy. Thus in no part of the Western States of America have I ever seen a horse flogged unmercifully, and upon several occasions when attention has been drawn to this the reply has been practically the same: “If we served them badly we should get less work out of them,” an observation that some Englishmen, plenty of Frenchmen, and very many Italians, who have to do with horses, might with advantage bear in mind.

The physical strength of horses in the very early centuries must have been prodigious. If the details we have of the way in which the early war chariots were constructed are accurate, then at least three of our twentieth-century horses would be needed to accomplish the work, one might almost say perform the feats, that a pair of horses could do twelve or thirteen centuries ago.

Even as late in the world's history as the period of Julius CÆsar the staying power of some of the war horses in Britain was amazing. Men who have been in action in our own times will tell you that a wounded horse gives in at once, that he seems to have no heart. Yet in Julius CÆsar's time, and in earlier epochs, an arrow or a javelin wound, if not too severe, apparently had the effect of setting a war horse upon his mettle rather than of causing him to give in.

Can the horse's temperament, then, have changed within the last ten centuries? Is he a less courageous animal than he was? Is he more highly strung, less intelligent, less strong physically, and of a weaker constitution? Such problems have to do with the history of the horse rather than with the horse in history, and, so far as I am aware, they have not as yet been solved.

PART II

FROM THE CONQUEST TO THE STUART PERIOD