It is a singular fact, that although England produces the finest horses in the world, and though the English people have always fancied they understood their management better than any other nation, yet, lately, not only have we all been astonished by the superior knowledge on this subject of a trans-Atlantic cousin, but what is still more surprising, our sporting men have rushed forwards to pay to Mr. Rarey no less a sum than about 15,000l. for exhibiting to them a system of horse-breaking, the philosophy of which is based upon a few simple facts, which, although unreflected on, have ever been lying close before our eyes.  
Of all animals in creation, there is no one we should all of us be so very sorry to lose as the horse. In peace and in war, on burning sands under the equator, or on eternal snow in the frigid zone, for pleasure or for business, well fed or starving, he is always not only ready, but eager, to the utmost of his strength, to serve a master, but too often inconsiderate, ungrateful to him, and unjust. As soon as his courage is excited, no fall, bruise, blow, or wound, that does not paralyse the mechanism of his limbs, will stop him; indeed, with his upper and lower jaw shot away, and with the skin dangling in ribands, we have17 seen him cantering, apparently careless and unconscious of his state, alongside of the horse artillery gun from which he had just been cut adrift.
 
But although in the hunting-field, on the race-course, or in harness, a horse will generally, from sheer pluck, go till he drops, yet, whenever he encounters physical strength greater than his own, our hero all of a sudden acts like an arrant coward.
 
For instance, in the mail, it apparently matters not to the spirit of the horses whether there be one passenger or six—light bags or heavy ones; on the contrary, the greater the weight, the more eagerly do they strain to force it to follow them. The faster they are allowed to go, the harder do they pull, until, if the reins were to break, they would enjoy the opportunity by running away, not as in the days of Phaeton with the chariot of the sun, but with say a ton and a half, of they know not what, at their heels. And yet, if on the following day the same high-flying, high-spirited, high-mettled horses were to be hooked to a sturdy living oak tree, after two or three ineffectual snatches to move it, no amount of punishment would be sufficient to induce them to go to the end of their traces; in short, to use a well-known expression, they would all "jib." Again, if a horse in harness, however resolutely he may be proceeding, slips upon pavement, and falls heavily on his side, after vainly making18 three or four violent struggles to rise, he becomes all of a sudden so completely cowed, that not only without any resistance does he allow his harness piecemeal to be unbuckled, the carriage detached, and pushed away far behind him, but, when lying thus perfectly unfettered, it requires kicks, stripes, and a malediction or two, to induce him to make the little effort necessary to rise from his prostrate state.
 
Again, in the hunting-field, a noble, high-couraged horse, a rusher at any description of fence, the very sight of which seems to inflame his ardour, in most gallant style charges a brook, which when he is in the air he sees is too broad to be cleared. On his chest striking against the bank, and while his rider, delighted at feeling that he is not a bit hurt, is luxuriously rolling over and over on the green grass like a rabbit that at full speed has been shot dead, this gallant steed makes two, three, or four desperate efforts to get to him; and yet, simply because the mud at the bottom of the brook catches hold of his hind feet, and the sticky perpendicular clay bank grasps his fore ones, his courage suddenly fails him, and as nothing will then induce him to make another effort, it becomes necessary to send, often several miles, for cart-horses to drag this high-bred animal out by his neck.
 
But although this strange mixture of courage and cowardice 19appears to us at first to be inexplicable, yet on reflection we must perceive that it is in strict accordance with the beneficent decree that "man should have dominion over every beast of the field."
 
The weight and muscular strength of a horse multiplied into each other, form a momentum which, if his courage were as indomitable as that of man, would make him the master instead of the servant of the human race; and accordingly, although, for all the purposes for which man can require them, his energy and endurance are invincible, yet, to ensure his subjection, his courage has been so curiously constituted, that, as it were, by touching the small secret spring of a safety valve, the whole of it instantly evaporates; and although Mr. Rarey has not exactly explained this theory, he has, with extraordinary intelligence and success, reduced it to practice as follows:—
 
When a horse of a sensitive and sensible disposition is placed under the care of a man of weak nerves, he very soon finds out that, by the help of his body, teeth, and heels, that is to say by squeezing, crushing, biting, and kicking his groom, he is able to frighten him; and no sooner is this victory attained, than the tyrant begins to misbehave himself to everybody in every possible way, until, as in the case of Cruiser, it is declared dangerous to approach him, even with food; that no man can ride him;20 in fact, that he is an animal beautiful to look at, but thoroughly useless to mankind.
 
Now, to cure this disorder, the wild beast, for such he is, with great precaution, by several guy-ropes, is led close to the wheel of a waggon, under which Mr. Rarey, putting his hands through the spokes, manages to lift up and gently strap up one fore-leg, and to affix a long strap to the fetlock of the other, which two simple operations at once ensure the victory he is about to attain.
 
As it gives a horse not the slightest pain or inconvenience to stand for a short time on one fore-leg, Cruiser, while "amazed he stares around," is scarcely aware that he is doing so; and as he is totally unconscious of the existence of the other strap, he is perfectly astounded to find that no sooner does he attempt to resent Mr. Rarey's bold approach and grasp, than, apparently by the irresistible power of man, he is suddenly deprived of the use of both his fore-legs.
 
The longer and the more violently he can be encouraged to resist, the more deathlike will be the trance in which he is about to lie. He struggles—struggles—struggles—until, as in the three instances we have described, his courage all at once evaporates, and with heaving flank, panting nostrils, palpitating heart, flabby muscles, and the perspiration bursting through every pore21 in the skin, he then allows his conqueror to sit on his ribs, to fiddle in his ears, drum to the gaping and gasping audience: in short, as the Duke of Wellington described Lord Ellenborough's proclamation about the gates of Sumnauth, to sing over his carcase "a song of triumph." And thus as Achilles was mortally wounded in the only vulnerable part of his body—the heel,—so does Cruiser find that in a heart which had never before failed him, and which had been the terror of all who approached him, there exists a weak point, discovered by Mr. Rarey, which has caused his complete subjection to man.
 
"Is this the face that faced ten thousand men,
And was at last out-faced by Bolingbroke?"
In old times this conversion of the bully into the coward could only be effected, at great risk, by courage and physical force, as follows:—
 
Some years ago Captain ——, the well-known steeple-chase rider, bought at Tattersall's, for a very small sum, a magnificent horse that no stranger in the yard dared approach, and which therefore was "put up" and honestly sold as a "man-killer."
 
On these propensities being explained by the purchaser to his head groom, the resolute fellow bluntly replied that he would not at all object to take care of the beast provided he were allowed, "in self-defence, to kill or cure22 him;" and accordingly, as soon as the homicide entered his stable, with a steady step, but avoiding looking into his eye, he walked up to him, and then, not waiting for a declaration of war, but with a short, heavy bludgeon, striking the inside of his knees, he knocked his fore legs from under him, and the instant he fell, belaboured his head and body until the savage proprietor of both became so completely terrified, that he ever afterwards seemed almost to quail whenever his conqueror walked up to him.
 
Now, on comparing the two opposite systems, humane and inhuman, scientific and unscientific, just described, it must be apparent to everybody, that while for the latter a powerful hero must be procured, all that is requisite for the former is calmness, gentleness, and two little straps which, in a lower stratum, physically fight a desperate battle, above which man morally and serenely presides; the horse, nevertheless, all the while ascribing to him alone the whole credit of the victory eventually attained.
 
Under the ordinary process used by horse-breakers, it requires several weeks before a colt—often broken down as well as in by the operation—surrenders his own will to that of his rider, whereas Mr. Rarey has not only in public repeatedly demonstrated, but many who have followed his prescription have testified, that a young23 thorough-bred horse, perfectly unbroken, can, in the course of about half-an-hour, be so thoroughly conquered by the two straps which he conceives to be part and parcel of the irresistible strength of his master, that so soon as he is satisfied that his own powers of resistance are of no avail, he subserviently allows himself to be bridled, saddled, mounted, and ridden.
 
The principle of Mr. Rarey's system of domination is at this moment curiously exemplified in the little dairy farm-yard of Mr. Roff, residing on the Brighton road, near Croydon.
 
Some months ago, on approaching these premises, we observed a lot of children playing with a yearling colt, who, to our surprise, was allowing them to crawl between his legs and fondle him in various ways, just as if he were a dog. On riding into the yard to inquire by what magical means the little quadruped had been made so gentle and tame, we were informed by the old farmer who owned him that his wife, kind to all her beasts,—
 
"She milk'd the dun cow that ne'er offer'd to stir:
Though wicked to all, it was gentle to her,"—
had for many years been yearning to add to them a pet colt; that accordingly he had lately bought her one, and that she had tamed it: with uxorious pride he added "she could tame anything." As, however, we were perfectly convinced that his good wife, in spite of her comely,24 honest face, could not fascinate a horse's heart quite as easily as a husband's, we cross-questioned the latter for a considerable time, until he at last mentioned (as if it had nothing whatever to do with the subject) that when he purchased the yearling (whose mother had just died), not knowing how to bring it to his wife, with the assistance of one or two men he strapped together all its four feet, and then, lifting it into his cart, just as if it had been a calf, he trotted away with it, jolting it and jumbling it till he reached his home, where he uncarted it, and, in due time, with his own hands, restored to it the use of its limbs.
 
Of course this was a much stronger dose of discipline and subjection than Mr. Rarey has ever found necessary to administer, even to Cruiser; and there can exist no doubt it was this cooling medicine, this soothing mixture, which had produced the strange and salutary effects that had attracted us into the little yard. And thus, in every region of the globe, not only colts and horses, but all living animals, man especially included, surrender at discretion to any authority which, after a fruitless struggle—such a one for instance as induced Napoleon I., on the 15th of July, 1815, to seek for refuge on board H. M. ship Bellerophon from the allied armies of Europe—they find it to be utterly impossible to resist.
 
The differences between the character and conduct of25 a wild horse and a tame one are, we believe, not very clearly understood. It is generally conceived that in the difficulty of adhering, technically termed sticking to the back of a horse, there exist three degrees of comparison, namely:—
 
1. That it is rather difficult to ride a horse that has been broken in.
 
2. That it is exceedingly difficult to ride one that has been petted, patted, bitted, lounged, but not mounted.
 
3. That it must be almost impossible to mount and ride a wild horse just caught, that has never been touched by a human hand.
 
We will, however, humbly venture to assert that, in certain instances, the three steps of this little ladder might be reversed.
 
1. In a state of nature the horse is such a zealous advocate of our popular principle of "self-government," he is so desirous to maintain his "independence," that although he will allow almost any quadruped, even wolves and lions, to approach within a certain distance, yet the moment he sees a man, though on horseback, he instinctively turns his tail towards him, and, when followed, gallops away.
 
If, consequently, by the triumph of reason over instinct he be caught, or rather by the lasso tumbled head over26 heels, saddled, and if all of a sudden, to his vast astonishment, he finds sitting astride his back, with a cigar in his mouth, the very human being he has always been avoiding, his first and almost only feeling is that of fear; and accordingly, if he be retained by the bridle, instantaneously, by a series of jumps on all four legs, he makes impromptu his first hurried, untaught, unpractised effort to dislocate a rider. But if, instead of being as it were invited to perform these unsophisticated antics, he be allowed, or rather, by whip and severe spurs, be propelled to do what he most ardently desires, namely, run away, his power of resistance is over, and his subjection inevitable. For at the top of his speed, just as when swimming, a horse can neither rear, kick, nor plunge, and therefore at his best pace he proceeds on his sure road to ruin, until not only all his wind is pumped out of him, but after that, until twisted hide-thong and sharp iron have converted his terror of man into an ardent desire to be obedient to his will. In fact, like a small nation that has unsuccessfully been contending against a great one, he wishes to put an end to the horrors of war, and to sue for the blessings of peace.
 
 If a domestic horse that has been handled, fondled, but never ridden, be suddenly saddled and mounted, the rider has greater difficulties to encounter than those just described: for the animal is not only gifted by nature27 with all the propensities of the wild horse to reject man, but, from being better fed, he has greater strength to indulge in them; besides which he enjoys the immense advantage of being in a civilized, or, in plainer terms, an enclosed country. Accordingly, instead of being forced to run away, his rider is particularly afraid lest he should do so, simply because he knows that the remedy which would cure the wild horse, would probably kill him. In fact, the difference to the rider between an open and an enclosed field of battle is exactly that which a naval officer feels in scudding in a gale of wind out of sight of land, and in being caught among sandbanks and rocks in a narrow channel.
 
3. Of all descriptions of horses, wild and tame, by far the most difficult to ride is that young British thorough-bred colt of two or three years old that has been regularly "broken in" by himself, without giving the slightest warning, to jump away sideways, spin round, and at the same moment kick off his rider. The feat is a beautiful and well-arranged combination of nature and of art. Like the pugilistic champion of England—Tom Sayers—he is a professional performer, gifted with so much strength and activity, and skilful in so many quick, artful tricks and dodges, that any country practitioner who comes to deal with him is no sooner up than down, to rise from his mother earth with a vague, bewildered,28 incoherent idea as to what had befallen him, or "how he got there."
 
If a horse of this description and a wild one were to be mounted simultaneously, each by an equally good rider, in an unenclosed, uncultivated region, both the quadrupeds probably at the same moment would be seen to run away: the Briton for ever, to gain his liberty; the other quadruped, just as surely, to lose it!
 
Having now sufficiently discussed the character and conduct of the horse, we will presume to offer, or rather to bequeath to our readers, a very few observations as regards his rider.