THE FAULTS INSEPARABLE FROM MOST PRESENT ERECTIONS WHICH ARE USED AS
STABLES.
No gentleman regards his country-seat as finished until to it ample
stabling is appended. The mansion is the first thing looked to. All
its rooms must be noble; all its offices must be convenient. The
pleasure-grounds must be magnificent; the kitchen-garden should be much
larger than is absolutely necessary. Nothing must interrupt the view
from the drawing-room windows. A park, or its imitation, must terminate
the lawn. No wood must be sacrificed. Everything must imply more wealth
than the owner’s purse actually contains. As to stables, of course they
must be most excellent; only, being situated in the background, no
great expense need be lavished on such out-buildings; any waste spot
will serve for their erection. A small space, judiciously employed, can
be made to house a great number of horses.
The architect, being informed of the wishes of his employer,
unhesitatingly asserts that four feet, or four feet six, or, in extreme
cases, five feet, are considered ample width for stalls. The proprietor
agrees to grant the last-named space for the abiding-place by day of a
living horse, and the spot on which rest must be enjoyed during night
by the same huge quadruped. Many a human pigmy sleeps on a more ample
couch, which, moreover, is situated in a spacious chamber. Such is the
distinction drawn between master and slave; although, when rightly
considered, life is but life, and the larger animal has the greater
necessity for more abundant air!
This decided, the gentleman rubs his hands, and, warmed by
the contemplation of his own liberality, applauds “the nice
arrangements,” which he has sanctioned “regardless of expense.” But
the carriage-house, he is positive, shall be built quite large enough.
He cannot forget that those rascals grazed his last new vehicle on
the very day it came home from Long Acre. The accident happened while
putting it into a narrow building. No! Let what will be cramped, the
carriage-house must be spacious.
Thus, men take much care of that species of property which, being
damaged, can be repaired for money; but they treat with neglect, and
thrust into unwholesome corners, that life which, when injured, not
all the wealth accumulated upon this globe could restore to soundness.
With the inanimate, there is nothing to remove the full force of blame,
which man must accept as his fault alone. The deterioration of such
articles, when it occurs, cannot be laid to the charge of any other
living being. This renders man more careful of such things. With life,
there is always something which can be made to take the weight of
culpability from the master’s shoulders. The horse was obstinate; it
had a bad temper; it possessed a vile mouth; it bolted; it refused; it
shied; it reared; it jibbed; it kicked, or, in some way, it resolved
not to do its duty. The dumb creature can make no answer to the
accusation; and human nature is readily convinced of its impartiality
when its errors have been mainly cast upon another life.
The builder is, of course, governed by the architect; the architect
is anxious to exhibit plans which shall elicit the approval of the
proprietor. So, in the end, those arrangements, upon which the
well-being and the health of many lives must depend, rest upon the
caprice of an elderly gentleman, who now, for the first time in his
life, may give serious thought to such a subject. However, this is the
rule, whether a house is intended for a family residence or is erected
as a speculation: the stables almost invariably occupy the space which
is left after every other want is satisfied.
When picturing one, the author designs to portray most modern stables:
very few of which are erected after maturer considerations than
the imaginary elderly gentleman has bestowed upon his contemplated
“out-houses.” Proverbially, according to this world’s usages, the
submissive are the abused; it would indeed be difficult to discover a
more perfect type of absolute submission than is exemplified in the
powerful body of a domesticated horse. Are we, therefore, to conclude
that in this attribute lies the reason why it is the most ill-treated,
the worst-nourished, and the meanest-lodged of the many inhabitants
upon this earth?
However, that the writer may not be accused of drawing on his fancy,
or of representing as actualities things which have no existence in
fact, he will, where reference is necessary, quote from the pages of
a work on “Stable Economy,” written by Professor Stewart, of Glasgow.
This book, when a pupil at the Royal Veterinary College of London,
was purchased by the author, he being induced to procure it by the
high character which it bore among the members of his profession.
Therefore it is selected as an authority upon the subject of which it
treats; and when quoting it, the present writer will, so far as may be
prudent, forbear to adduce his personal opinions.
Concerning doors, permitting egress from and allowing entrance into
stables, Professor Stewart directs that these should be made “eight or
eight and a half feet high and five feet wide.” The dimensions here
laid down are evidently regarded as large or of model amplitude; for,
subsequently, we are informed “accidents often happen from having doors
too low and too narrow.” Aware, therefore, of the necessity for space,
the Professor must have imagined he had allowed room sufficient to
anticipate those accidents which he was contemplating, when the passage
was indited. The reader may, therefore, reasonably conjecture that,
when proposing the above measurement, the Professor not only thought he
had permitted every requisite freedom, but that he had even provided
large marginal capacity for extraordinary occasions.
Certainly, when compared with the vast majority of existing doorways,
the proposed entrance may be viewed as exceeding the utmost limit of
boundless liberality. The next sentence encountered in the book already
referred to, apprises the reader that “three feet six inches is the
usual width of a stable doorway; a few are four feet.” Consequently,
the author of “Stable Economy,” warming as he contemplates the
munificence of his conception, adds, “no care is necessary, when taking
a horse through a space five feet wide and eight feet six inches high!”
Nevertheless, though the difference between the height and bulk of man
and horse is altogether in favor of the animal, there are many doors
admitting people to human habitations, which considerably exceed the
dimensions laid down by a kindly disposed and an amiable writer, as
the utmost space necessary for man and horse, simultaneously, to pass
through. Within the domiciles of the lesser creature, it is by no means
a rarity to discover entrances of a much greater height than Professor
Stewart allows his imaginary model stable to possess.
Many gentlemen love to own tall horses. Persons having such a taste
will not look at an animal unless it stands sixteen hands high; or
unless it will measure five feet four inches from the top margin of the
withers to the ground. The foregoing measurement, however, does not
allow for the head and neck, which, though not reckoned in the general
estimate of equine altitude, still cannot be left behind when the horse
quits the stable. Some animals exceed sixteen hands: such quadrupeds,
if they carried high crests, would have to lower their ears when
passing under one of those beams which the learned Professor evidently
intended to be so lofty as should release the groom from every care,
and free him from all responsibility.
It is by no means unusual to encounter a man who stands more than six
feet in his stockings. Such persons, when seated, measure at least
three feet from the crown of the head to the cushion of the chair.
One yard, therefore, added to the height of the horse makes more than
eight feet; or, allowing for saddle, hair of rider, etc., approaches
unpleasantly close to the highest point of that space which was to
release a groom from every care.
Some persons prefer to mount in the stable. Many horses will only,
while there, allow a rider to quietly cross their backs. Most gentlemen
have their hats on before the feet are placed in the stirrups. But
supposing a tall man to get upon a high horse, the covering to his
head must be extremely shallow if it is to receive no damage when
passing through the doorway which, the reader has Professor Stewart’s
assurance, is so lofty as to dispense with every care!
To ride out of the stable is very far from an eccentric habit. A model
door should, therefore, contemplate the passage of any ordinary sized
horse, with any rider of average proportions seated upon its back.
The tallest man probable, as well as the smallest possible, should be
equally accommodated by its dimensions. A model door ought to provide
for every customary purpose. When considering such a structure, it
is not sufficient that its size is proportioned to the majority of
purposes, but it should be fit for all, save only very extraordinary
uses.
The width customary with such entrances--“three feet six inches”--must
not be passed over unnoticed, if only to convince the reader of the
entire inadequacy of such a space. The author, however, could readily
point to many stable doors of even narrower capacity than is implied
in the foregoing limitation; but having bound himself not to adduce
his own experience, he gladly accepts Professor Stewart’s testimony
concerning those things which are to be reviewed in this place.
When a horse is led, not ridden, out of the stable, the groom commonly
proceeds according to the following method: The man grasps a rein, and,
walking by the side of the animal, servant and slave pass the threshold
together. The three feet six inches of clear space has to permit the
passage of two bodies at the same moment; therefore, dividing the
allotted width, and giving half to each, allows one foot nine inches as
the share of either. A groom, however, when in full livery, and within
his own dominion, is an important personage. He permits no familiarity
from his inferiors; he expects only proper behavior from the horse,
while he is beneath the shadow of his realm. That groom must be devoid
of all self-esteem, and unworthy of his post, who could allow the
cleanliness of his costume to be soiled or the polish of his boots to
be sullied!
A person of ordinary stature, and in average health, will measure,
across the shoulders, from seventeen to twenty inches. An animal of
moderate size can barely squeeze through a clear gap of twenty-two
inches width. Then, taking the man at the lowest standard, and adding
seventeen to twenty-two inches, we obtain thirty-nine inches, as the
smallest amount of room which servant and quadruped could manage to
pass through. Such a close measurement, however, supposes the two
living beings to touch one another, as well as to graze the sides of
the passage. Against such gross usage, the innate dignity of cockade,
leathers, and riding coat would alike protest!
Three feet six inches, however, allow exactly one inch to divide the
door posts from the man and from the horse; while an inch also remains
to separate the dignity of the domestic from the simplicity which it is
conducting. The margin is not very ample; and both creatures must march
with uncommon steadiness for neither of the animals to touch the posts,
or to rub against the other.
Five feet, certainly, afford more ample quarters. Through such a frame
both man and horse, supposing each to be quietly disposed, may pass
with ease. Even so vast a limit, however, will not allow the groom
to dispense with every care. An animal may, reasonably, be delighted
when it sniffs the fresh air; and it may be permitted to perform a few
pranks, as it quits positive stagnation to make the nearest approach
to freedom which its enslaved condition can sanction. School-boys do
not observe any severity of order, when they cast aside their tasks to
throng into the play-ground. Yet the youths are confined to study only
for a comparatively short period. But what must be the feelings of the
steed, when leaving the heated stable and the narrow stall, where it
has probably been imprisoned for twenty-two consecutive hours?
Who among us, if he had the power, would check the graceful prancings
and elegant curvetings, by which a simple nature announces its sense
of happiness? To human feeling, an idea of having to carry another’s
weight, in the direction and at the pace the rider pleases to command;
to have a sharp bit pulled against the tender angles of the lips; to be
flogged with a heavy whip, or goaded with sharp spurs,--conjures up an
image calculated to awaken no special delight. But long imprisonment
may induce that eagerness to breathe the air of heaven, which may
possibly render the prospect of labor, beyond the confines of its jail,
welcome to the captive.
Quadrupeds have been injured while passing through the widest of
modern entrances. The pleasure of escaping from the tedium and from
the faintness of actual stagnation generates a joy which banishes the
sense of prudence. All feeling and every caution appear to be engulfed
in the exultation of the moment. The horse dances as it walks; the
tail is gayly whisked; the neck is arched; the mane is shaken and the
body is twisted, by those numberless undulations which have often
excited the admiration of enthusiastic spectators. If, during one of
these expressive movements, the trunk should be inflected more than
the seven inches which the five feet allow, or the animal, influenced
by the impetuosity of excitement, should come in contact with the
door post, the consequence may be fearful. The possibility of check,
certainly, does not enter the thought of the joyous creature. The blow
is proportioned to the heedlessness which induced it. A bone can be
fractured on such an occasion; nor is it an unusual accident. Most
horses which are beheld with one “hip down,” have had the deformity
produced by striking against the post of the stable door.
[Illustration: “DOWN IN THE HIP;” OR A HORSE WITH THE BONE OF ONE HIP
FRACTURED.]
“Down in the hip,” is a groom’s phrase, and merely signifies that
one of the prominences of the haunch-bone, or, employing anatomical
language, that one of the inferior spinous processes of the ileum, has
been broken off. This osseous projection is of great importance to the
value of the quadruped; it gives origin to numerous muscles, but more
particularly to the powerful extensors of the hind limb. That ease,
grace, and rapidity with which the member should be moved are by this
misfortune destroyed, and the animal is thereby unfitted for the more
highly esteemed half of its future services. By the accident it loses
caste, and moves downward in the scale of equine employments.
This terrible affliction to the life principally concerned may also
be occasioned in another manner. Grooms, when leading a horse from
the stable, commonly walk by the side of the animal. Such persons are
usually fully dressed to attend their masters, when called upon to
perform this duty. Thus arrayed, the vanity of these men is extreme.
Their importance almost exacts homage from the quadruped upon which it
is their office to attend. Should the creature in its joy, when passing
through the doorway, touch the coat of the domestic, such familiarity
elicits the utmost indignation. Pride frowns at the pollution of its
vestments. A loud word, a kick or a blow, instantly resents the insult.
The animal, in terror, skips about to avoid further punishment. The
door post is struck; the haunch is fractured, or the pain is inflicted
which renders the creature, with its retentive memory, ever after
fearful when passing through an entrance.
[Illustration: BOLTING THROUGH THE STABLE DOOR.]
The ordinary life of a domesticated horse is so monotonous that
recollection of events cannot otherwise than be retained. The animal
subsequent to such a calamity, even though no bone should be fractured,
cannot gaze upon a door with calmness. In future, alarm is exhibited
whenever an entrance has to be approached. It cannot enter or quit its
abiding-place without displaying those symptoms of terror which to
the groom are the representatives only of inveterate “vice.” The most
violent or the blandest of tones cannot restore placidity to the brain
which is troubled by fearful recollections. It is useless to coax, to
threaten, or to punish: the animal has no ability to assume its former
quietude when passing through the terrible opening. But it strives to
brace up its nerves for the performance of the necessary act. All its
resolution is summoned, till, maddened by excitement, it wildly dashes
through the entrance, dragging after it the boy to whose custody the
more dangerous quadrupeds are usually intrusted by the prudent sagacity
of stable-men.
Terror, once generated in the equine brain, is never removed, until
years of misery have ruined the health and destroyed the spirit of the
horse; rendering it a mere suffering machine, careless of the present
and hopeless for the future. The weight of affliction which nearly
all of the unhappy race have to sustain, as age increases, changes
the temper and the bearing of the creature. Its prostrated existence
seems almost to have become indifferent to human malice. Mankind would,
certainly, not be the less happy could they be induced to trust in the
goodness which their Heavenly Father has placed around them; would they
discard those doubts and abandon that defiance which implies a belief
only in the _existence_ of evil.
With regard to the subject on which recent comments have been based,
horsemen should order their servants never to walk through a doorway
by the side of the quadruped, which general belief supposes to be led
through such openings.
A boy should not be employed in such an office. Prior to leaving the
building, the groom should place himself directly in front of his
charge. A short hold of either rein should then be taken in each hand.
When there located, he can with ease and certainty guide the head of
the horse. The motions of the head regulate the movements of the body,
and having the controlling power entirely at his command, the servant
should commence to back slowly out of the stable. However, there is
one objection to the proposed method, which is the rightful mode of
proceeding. In the majority of London stables there is but one man,
who acts as groom, as coachman, and occasionally as pad groom, or the
servant who rides after his employer. This personage being in front
of the creature’s nose, should the horse sneeze, cough, or clear its
nostrils, any ejected matter must alight upon the highly-decorated
garments of the man. The self-love of the individual fears such a
mishap to the luster of his afternoon’s costume; when the interests of
the proprietor are opposed to the vanity of ignorance, no spirit of
prophecy is needed to pronounce on which side victory will be declared!
These accidents may be greatly mitigated by the hat being laid aside,
as from all else the soil may be removed, and leave no stain behind.
Supposing this obvious recommendation to be adopted, should any
symptom of alarm or any disposition to display restiveness chance to
be exhibited, progress must be immediately stopped; nor ought it to be
again resumed, until the animal has thoroughly recovered its composure.
No matter how long a period may be required to restore tranquillity,
the groom should, contentedly, continue stationary till every sign
of timidity is banished or dispelled. In such a manner, servant and
quadruped should leave the building: nor ought the man to quit his
post before the doorway has been more than cleared.
[Illustration: LEADING A HORSE THROUGH THE STABLE DOORWAY.]
It must certainly be read with a sensation of surprise that, since
a stable was first erected, horses have been constantly injured by
passing through narrow doorways. It will assuredly excite wonder
that, after centuries of experience, enforced by serious loss, the
easy, safe, and natural remedy for such miscalled “accidents” needs
to be gravely pointed out, or to be promulgated as it were a novel
suggestion. The mind of the master has, however, been otherwise
engaged; the horse has never been regarded as a living creature, having
certain attributes and rights, with which all keepers of the quadrupeds
must comply. It is rather viewed as “something” absolutely _given_ to
mankind, concerning which the human being has, therefore, merely to
consult his will and his pleasure. Consequently, when regulations are
formed for the government of the equine race, these are never framed
as though there were the habits, the instincts, and the wants of an
existence to be considered.
The assumed evil disposition of the most placid of beings has been
wrongfully abused as the cause of every injury. The possibility of so
groundless a reason being advanced to cover that carelessness which
provoked punishment, is by no means complimentary to the wisdom of
mankind. The care needful for the safe guidance of a timid animal is
denied; the trifling outlay which would secure the immunity of the
creature is selfishly withheld. Nevertheless, how frequent and how
poignant is the lamentation, which complains that horse flesh is a
“very hazardous species of property!” Yet, when investigated, what does
the cry import, more than that a beautiful living body is not sent upon
earth superior to man’s power of abuse?
Nature endowed the horse with every faculty needed to enjoy the freest
existence on the most extended plane. It was created the graceful
embodiment of the wildest liberty! The classic mind rightfully
recognized its attributes; for by it, as Pegasus, the boldest flight of
a poet’s fancy was significantly allegorized. The ancient intellect,
in its freshness, beheld in the steed the fitting representative of
that which prisons should not confine, neither should chains fetter.
Yet, formerly, the full truthfulness of the image was but partially
demonstrated. Years of after-experience have shown the animal can
thrive in opposite regions; it can live on almost every variety of
sustenance; it propagates its race under the extremes of too much care
and of absolute neglect; the creature which man sorrows over as so
very delicate has the strength of a giant, the docility of a dog, and
a constitution which is well characterized by a proverbial expression,
“strong as a horse!”
The boasted civilization of the present age has degraded the animal
into a living type of stagnant misery! It was gifted by its Creator
with a speed which defied pursuit; with a sight which could endure the
sun’s fiercest ray, or could penetrate the darkness of the night; and
it was gifted with the recognition which is telescopic in its range of
inquiry. It was sent upon this earth with an ample nostril, and a sense
of smell capable of appreciating the varied odors of an Eastern plain.
How has human perversity distorted the intentions of Beneficence! Now
it is locked into an outhouse, where either total darkness prevails,
or the eye is fastened close to a whitened surface. It is tied to a
manger, while the floor on which it stands so slants as must banish
ease from the feet, and the partitions which confine the body prevent
rest from change of position. If the place is cold, the creature’s
home is possessed of no means to counteract the effect. If it should
be warm, it is contaminated by the fermentation of filth; the air is
loaded with gas, which must pain the nerves, occasion the eyes to
smart, disgust the fine sense of smell, and destroy the health by
preventing perfect oxygenation of the blood.
Misery, solitude, and confinement will generate disease in a man.
Wherefore should an animal be esteemed superior to such influences?
Impure air, sameness of food, and being tied to a manger, inducing
feeble bodily health, gradually undermine the powerful equine
constitution. Other evils, of a local nature, result from causes which
might easily be removed, were man, in his wisdom, only convinced such
influences ought to be destroyed. The forelegs of the stabled horse
are always the first to yield. Yet the prisoner may endure severe
lameness in these members, and, nevertheless, the body be so slightly
sympathetic with the affliction as actually to lay on fat. It is
different with the hinder limbs! Should one of these last be injured,
the entire frame languishes. The quadruped then evidently pines in
torture, and its flesh sensibly wastes.
Very different is the manner in which various physiologists account
for this peculiarity. Some appeal to the greater proximity of the
anterior extremities to the heart, or to the center of circulation.
That, perhaps, is the generally received doctrine; but as the free
circulation of the blood is essential to the healthy functions of the
nerves, it is difficult to comprehend why nearness to the heart should
deprive a nerve of its ability to communicate sensation. The head is
supposed to be rendered conspicuously sensitive, because of the great
proportionate quantity of blood which circulates in that region.
The pretended rule, therefore, will not bear the test of general
application; it must be discarded as an assertion boldly put forward to
cover ignorance.
The forefeet of the horse are those portions of the frame which have
to endure the utmost limits of mortal perversity. The flooring of
the stall invariably inclines from the manger to the gangway. The
hind hoofs may, should the animal hang back the full length of its
collar-rope, rest in the open drain with the toes downward; or the hind
hoofs may, in some cases, stand upon the gangway, the width of which
the gutter defines. The front limbs, however, can scarcely change their
position. The hoofs must rest upon the slanting bricks, which incline
the anterior of the foot in the upward direction. The forelegs must
sustain, and continue subject to the unnatural stress of their enforced
position. This silly and arbitrary arrangement in some measure accounts
for the fact that the front limbs of the horse are the first parts of
the body to fail, for these parts never, in the stable, are capable of
rest, nor can they be sensible to ease.
It has, of late years, become the general practice to bleed the horse
from the sole of the forefoot. When such a custom is adopted, the first
portion of blood extracted is, commonly, cold as spring-water, or from
thirty to forty degrees below the standard recognized as “blood heat.”
Now, a certain warmth is imperative to the existence of vitality,
which is arrested so soon as the natural heat of the body is sensibly
diminished. The functions are stayed when any region has parted with
its caloric. Dentists take advantage of this fact when, after having
employed the chilling process, they extract a tooth without pain. Cold,
therefore, which can destroy sensation in the human jaw, likewise
renders the foot of the horse insensible to agony.
But why is the foreleg subject to a degree of cold which does not also
affect the hind extremity of the animal? Because the stable permits
the hind limbs to enjoy the greater freedom of action. These may be
in perpetual motion; for the posterior members are situated at the
boundary of a circle, of which the ring of the manger represents the
center or fixed point. Has the reader ever beheld a column of soldiers
move in obedience to the officer’s command, to “Wheel?” The man at one
end of the line can hardly run quickly enough, while he who is placed
at the opposite extremity is troubled to be sufficiently slow in his
movements. Now, the hind legs of the horse represent the man who has
to scamper, and are sensibly exerted whenever the quadruped “comes
over;” the anterior extremities are types of the soldier who scarcely
moves, for very seldom are these members necessitated to change their
position. Their stable office is to uphold the body, and to remain
fixed while the toes are inclined upward! Were the motion permitted
to both extremities equalized, the fore limbs would naturally be the
warmest, since the great distance from the heart and the greater
angularity of form must render circulation of caloric within the
quarters much more tardy.
But why do not other parts become as cold as the fore limbs, when all
belong to the same body, and all derive their heat from one common
medium, or from the same circulation? The veins in the legs have
valves. Then, if these vessels are so provided, and the distribution
of warmth is one of the purposes of the circulation, why do not the
valves favor the return of blood from the foot, and thus generate heat
within the member? When answering the foregoing inquiries, the reader’s
patience is entreated, since the reply, to be intelligible, cannot also
be concise.
[Illustration: VALVES OF THE VEINS IN THE LEG.
1. The valves of the vein laid against the side of the vessel by
the upward current of the blood.
2. The valves projected from the sides of the vessel by the
attempted retrogression of the vital stream.
]
Anatomy affords the best explanation of the peculiarity. On removing
the horny case from the hoof of a dead horse, a secretive membrane
is exposed; this membrane constantly renews the horn. Beneath the
secreting surface, a complex mesh-work of large veins is discovered,
which, by their size, inform us they serve as receptacles or sinuses
quite as much as vessels. These veins have no valves, though such are
commonly present in other tubes of the same class. The absence of
this provision is, in them, remarkable, because the blood has to move
against gravity; valves are a means instituted to favor the current
under circumstances of this nature. Valves are composed of duplicatures
of the lining membrane of veins: when the venous current flows toward
the heart, these valves, by the impetus of the stream, are forced
upward, and remain close against the sides of the vessels; but, should
the slightest retrogression of the current be endangered, the backward
motion of the blood carries the numerous valves outward or downward,
and effectually locks the interior of the veins.
The anatomy of the foot, however, proves the horse unsuited to
confinement. The animal was created to dwell upon the plain. The
foot, for its health, requires perpetual motion. When free, or before
man subjected it to his convenience, every bite the creature took
necessitated a fresh step. The mesh-work of veins was large, the
vessels freely communicated with each other, and were devoid of valves,
that the blood might readily flow into, while it might as readily be
expelled from, the tubes; and because, in the habits of her creature,
nature had established a force which rendered the development of valves
unnecessary. The horse, as it progressed, alternately lifted the foot
from the earth and rested it upon the ground. When the hoof was raised,
the blood rushed into and filled the mesh-work of veins. When the foot
was again placed upon the soil, the superimposed weight squeezed the
vessels, between the bones and the horn, thus pumping out the blood, or
forcing it toward the heart.
Blood which has become cold has lost the first of its living
properties. Blood deprived of heat cannot support health, or supply
secretion. Hence the feet of stabled horses--notwithstanding the care
of science, the numerous applications, and the endless variety of
shoes, all of which are designed to benefit the hoofs--generally become
diseased. The quadruped of the agriculturist, although it be neglected
and badly shod, yet, because of its slow or constant work, and habitual
freedom in the field, usually exhibits feet which are sound and open.
The donkey, though much abused and shamefully treated, rarely inhabits
a stable, and more seldom enters a stall. Its feet become misshapen;
but the curse of the gentleman’s steed, foot lameness, and especially
navicular disease, are all but unknown among this tribe of the equine
race.
The foregoing statement also affords an explanation why the most
valuable or the stabled horse is so frequently afflicted with
contracted hoof, with brittle hoof, with an unhealthy secretion
of horn, and with the various other ailments which may be classed
under the diseases of the foot. It likewise supplies the most clear
reason for the beginning of that disorder which has been denominated
“the curse of good horse flesh”--Navicularthritis, or ulceration
of the navicular bone. Bone is slow to take on morbid action, and
ulceration is the accompaniment of low vitality. When the circulation
is retarded, the animal powers are enfeebled. Ulceration, affecting a
lowly-organized structure, is that which a pathologist would anticipate
as the consequence of prolonged inaction. It is impossible to say
what evils the continuance of such a condition may not induce; but
sandcrack, seedy toe, and various painful affections can be clearly
traced to have thus originated.
[Illustration: THE VEINS OF THE HORSE’S FOOT.
The mesh-work of veins, without valves, which are situated
immediately under the secretive membrane of the hoof.
]
The effect of the stable, also, accounts for the farmer riding his
nag for many years, while few gentlemen approve of a horse for saddle
purposes after it has passed the sixth summer, notwithstanding their
animals are better groomed and more carefully fed. In the country,
farmers’ quadrupeds are generally turned into the field, and have to
walk for their living. Grass is a poor food; but the constant exercise
keeps the creatures in sounder health than can be maintained by better
sustenance combined with perpetual confinement.
An absolute necessity for the constant movement of the feet is to be
deduced from the arrangement of the vessels. The arterial blood falls
almost perpendicularly down the fore limb, while the venous blood
has likewise to ascend against gravity. This arrangement rendered
imperative some propelling force to return the effete fluid; hence the
necessity for the perpetual employment of the squeezing or pumping
action of the hoof. The habits of the animal to graze only from choice
portions of the herbage occasion a vast distance to be traversed; but
such leisurely sauntering was, by nature, kindly intended to keep sound
that portion of the frame on the integrity of which the safety, the
welfare, and the pleasure of her creation was dependent.
“Certainly,” the reader may exclaim; “but if the warmth of the body
is dependent upon arterial blood, the coldness of a part cannot be
accounted for by stating the facility afforded for the oxygenating
current reaching that which is chilled.” Very true. But before any
substance can fall down, the space through which it has to pass in its
descent must be made clear. The quickness with which the arterial
blood reaches the foot is, consequently, regulated by the speed with
which the venous current is expelled. The hoof of the stabled horse is
constantly congested, or the effete blood accumulates within the horn;
because motion, in the venous stream, is impossible. The current hardly
stirs, and the fluid, by stagnation, becomes cold. Did the possibility
of action allow the pumping force fair play, then the forefoot would,
doubtless, be as warm as other parts of the animal’s system.
[Illustration: HORSES, WHEN FREE TO CHOOSE, ALWAYS STAND WITH THE
FOREHOOFS ON A LOWER LEVEL THAN THAT OCCUPIED BY THE HIND FEET.]
Anatomy demonstrates these facts; but the habits of the quadruped have
never been attentively noted. Had the instinctive promptings of its
desires been studied with a wish to profit by such instruction, stables
had been erected for some better purpose than to closely confine an
active animal, and to illustrate the earliest principles of surface
drainage. As it is, a building has been raised totally inadequate to
its pretended uses, and one in the arrangement of which the convenience
of man has alone been consulted. In such a place, a horse has, for
ages, been imprisoned. It is true, the captive did not thrive. Yet this
consequence was rather excused than inquired into. Humanity has endured
loss, disappointment, and vexation; but pride found it more agreeable
to accuse the works of Heaven with the results of its own culpability
than to suspect the adequacy of its own institutions. Nature has, in
vain, labored to instruct the waywardness of conceit. Mankind could
endure all evils before it could afford to question the perfectibility
of mortal invention.
Horses, when disposed to remain stationary, always select ground
where the forefeet can occupy a position lower than the hind legs. In
stables, this inclination is reversed, the hinder limbs invariably
resting on an inferior level to what the forefeet range upon. The
motive upon which the dictates of nature are outraged is the facility
which a floor slanting in the backward direction affords for surface
moisture to flow into the open gutter that runs along the extreme
margin of the gangway. Science, evidently, has not been consulted
in an arrangement which sacrifices the health and the comfort of an
inhabitant of the stall to obtain so obvious, gross, and poor an
advantage. Stables, evidently, were built only to please the fancy,
and propitiate the prejudices of ignorant proprietors. No thought was
bestowed upon the quadrupeds such edifices pretended to accommodate.
The consequence is seen in the discomfort, torture, and the speedy
decline of lives which are forced to dwell within one of these
notorious charnel-houses.
[Illustration: WHEN CONFINED TO THE STALL, HORSES GENERALLY STAND WITH
THE HIND FEET UPON A LOWER LEVEL THAN THE FOREHOOFS OCCUPY.]
Knowing the object desired, the reader will naturally expect to be
informed whether dryness is secured by the present arrangement. When
answering this inquiry, the author must describe the general plan
according to which the floors of most stables are laid down. The
pavement of the stalls is composed of small, hard bricks, known as
“Dutch Clinkers.” Bricks, however nicely they may be placed, cannot
form an absolutely smooth or even surface. They must present spaces
in which fluid will be retained; and, being porous, bricks cannot
prevent effluvia from rising through their substances, or cannot hinder
liquid from percolating into the soil on which they rest. The urine
acquires acrimony as it corrupts beneath the pavement, which makes a
renewal of the flooring of a stall an efficient reason for ordering the
inhabitants of a large building to be removed, since the pavement will
have to be disturbed.
To demonstrate that the urine of the horse undergoes a speedy change
when exposed to the action of the atmosphere: the fresh fluid will
produce no change in litmus paper; but after a few minutes’ exposure,
the liquid changes the blue dye to a red color, having, in the brief
interval, become acid, and in that condition it yields strong fumes of
ammoniacal gas. It is the presence of this gas that chiefly occasions
that peculiar pungency which is characteristic of the stable.
To promote such an alteration, and to procure from the excretion the
greatest possible amount of noxious effluvia, the liquid is made to
gently flow over an open, a rough, an uneven, and a slanting surface;
thus subjecting the greatest possible quantity to the direct action of
the atmosphere. Should not the whole change be thereby accomplished,
the fluid slowly drains into an open gutter, which slopes so gradually
that its contents frequently refuse to move. Had the architect who
originally laid down the plan of a modern stable designed to make the
interior poisonous, it would have been difficult, having no more active
agent at command, for him to have conceived means better calculated to
fulfill his object.
The groom, to warm the place, stops up every crevice through which the
vapor could escape, or pure air could find admission. Many stable-men,
also, exclude the light, under a groundless notion that horses thrive
best when in the dark. Darkness does not necessarily lead to sleep--it
simply disables one of the senses; thereby animal life is deprived of
a harmless enjoyment, while at the same time the exclusion of light
causes the eye to shrink from the glare of day; while the continuance
of the evil is likely to induce blindness. Hours of weariness, passed
in a confined space, and within a tainted atmosphere, are strange means
when employed to promote extraordinary thrift. More especially, when we
consider that the inclination of the floor forbids rest to the feet,
while the exclusion of light incapacitates all visual recreation.
Horses, not having a knowledge of chemistry, cannot, of themselves,
purify the air; but certain animals, instructed by their instincts, do
all in their power to counteract the evils which the slanting nature
of the flooring has a tendency to produce. Such steeds lean first
upon one foot and then upon the other; thus the entire weight bears
alternately upon either hoof, while each is in turn released from all
pressure. If not checked, quadrupeds will often continue thus employed
for hours. The creatures know nothing concerning the structures of
their own bodies; but the most learned physiologist could not have
invented any plan better calculated to supply the pumping action which
accompanies the walk, and promotes a healthy circulation, thus securing
soundness to the hoof.
[Illustration: WEAVING.]
Indeed, human intelligence would appear to be incapable of appreciating
the benefit which must result from the simple artifice of an inferior
being. The animal which is detected when endeavoring to correct the
evils of mortal perversity, is always severely punished. The indulgence
is, by the pure mind of the groom, recognized as a wicked “vice,” and
is stigmatized under the term of “weaving.” The highly intelligent
horse is fiercely lashed for laboring to prevent the consequences of
man’s stupidity, and for striving to improve its master’s property,
while solacing its confinement, by an act as harmless as it is innocent.
A creature standing on a slanting floor, with the head pointing to the
most elevated part of the incline, occupies the same relative situation
which the body would possess, were the quadruped journeying up the
side of a hill. By the sloping nature of the ground, the weight of the
frame is partially removed from the insensitive bones; and to such an
extent as the osseous structures are relieved, is the burden thrown
upon the flexor tendons, or upon the back sinews. It is imperative for
the health of bone that it should endure almost continuous pressure. On
the other hand, tendon or sinew feels no pain from occasional tension;
but pressure, if long sustained, produces the acutest agony. When one
structure is denied to fulfill the uses for which it was created, and
another structure is condemned to discharge services for which it never
was designed, the first soon degenerates, from not having sufficient
employment, while the second speedily becomes disorganized, from the
necessity to perform too much labor.
Bone, tendon, and cellular tissue almost compose the shin and the foot
of the animal. Horsemen know how difficult it is to make and keep the
legs of a stabled quadruped hard and fine. It is, however, folly to rub
and to bandage while inactivity is permitted to generate congestion.
No application can possibly destroy the effect while that cause is
allowed to be in operation. Nor can the foot secrete sound horn while
the exercise which is imperative for health is withheld. No shoe can
give that which is dependent upon motion. There are many more pieces
of iron curved, hollowed, raised, and indented, than the author has
cared to enumerate. All, however, have failed to restore health to the
hoof. Some, by enforcing a change of position, may, for a time, appear
to mitigate the evil; but none can, in the long run, cure the disorder
under which the horn evidently suffers.
Anointing the hoof, or using various stoppings, are equally fruitless.
Both leg and foot, after a day of hard labor, only return to the stable
to undergo more excessive, because more continuous, fatigue. The
sloping pavement renders ease an impossibility. The exhaustion cannot
be banished from limbs forced to occupy such ground. Longer rest but
induces additional enervation.
The inquiry suggested by the above remarks is, whether a horse does
not return with eagerness to its stable? Is it natural for a creature
to exhibit eagerness when it enters the abode of its agony? In answer
to the foregoing, it may be advanced that all grades of inferior life
which exist under the care of man are in so unnatural a condition as
allows no inference to be drawn from apparently voluntary actions.
Birds were intended to cleave the air. No one can believe but the
goldfinch must be more happy when bathing its wings in light, and
freely sailing on the atmosphere, than when the gay spirit is cramped
within one of those small cages in which certain people delight to
confine the joyous heart. Yet, let the bird be captured and immured
within such a space. After some time, it will require perseverance
to drive the feathered captive from the prison which must make stiff
the wings and cause the breast to sorrow. The act, however, will be
difficult; when accomplished, unless the wire door be closed, the
shelter of its inadequate abode will be speedily sought again. Do
birds, therefore, love to be caught, and to be caged?
Should the above instance not be perfectly satisfactory, another is
ready to illustrate the subject. Everybody has heard of the French
noble, who had grown old, gray, and feeble while in durance. The
gentleman, when released from the Bastile, shed tears, entreating to
be restored to his cell. Are we, therefore, to infer that the French
love imprisonment? Each case may, perhaps, be interpreted to exemplify
the power of habit. One year of sheer animal life will stand against a
long term of human existence. A horse lives in the facts which surround
it. It exists in the present, and has no imagination to embitter the
hardness of its fate. Man is always escaping from the circumstances
which engirt him; he is always fancying something brighter than his
present lot, or is straining toward the future; he may be said to exist
most in anticipation. Give humanity no prospect to dwell upon, deny it
all hope to contemplate, the soul sinks into utter dejection; and a
palace or a jail are alike regarded with indifference.
The horse was, by nature, formed to be the companion and the servant
of man. The original of the breed, which in animals intended for the
wild state it is difficult to destroy, is, with the equine race,
unknown. It is, in heart, in body, and in soul, the obedient servant
and willing helpmate of the human race. It does not submit to its doom;
its lot is accepted as a foregone decision; it has abandoned every
thought of liberty, and has embraced its fate. But is it worthy of
the intelligence to which the creature has devoted its existence, to
convert such perfect and entire abnegation of self into a reason for
perpetuating those tortures that were invented by barbarity, and are,
it is hoped, only continued through ignorance? The reader needs no
prompting to afford the fitting answer.
This question is not affected by the love or hatred of the animal for
the stable. The only point which really remains to be decided is, does
the stable, as at present built, represent the most healthful and the
most pleasant abode which man’s imagination can picture for his tired
and submissive companion? If it be possible to suppose a better home
for the quadruped, then it becomes the moral duty of man to raise such
a structure. All pretenses about the sacrifice of existing property and
the regards for pecuniary outlay are of no weight when urged against a
rightful obligation. Man is blessed with reason, and is constituted,
in this world, the only judge of his own actions. So high a privilege
should bind him to be even more than just in his decisions!
[Illustration:
No. 1.
No. 2.
THE STRESS ENDURED BY THE DIFFERENT STRUCTURES WHICH COMPOSE THE LEG OF
THE HORSE IS DEPENDENT UPON THE POSITION OF THE FOOT.]
To return. The reader will observe that, in the sketch No. 1, the
bones rest one upon the other. That arrangement ensues when the animal
descends an incline. There can exist no man but must have enjoyed the
ease which is imparted by walking down a slope. Every person must also
be acquainted with the fatigue consequent upon ascending an acclivity.
The effect is generally explained by stating that, in one case
progression is favored by, while in the other it is made in opposition
to, gravitation. Such a cause, certainly, is in operation; but the
different structures on which the strain reposes, when moving in
opposite directions, to the author’s mind supply a better illustration
of the fact.
Do not muscles, and does not tendon participate in the burden which is
upheld by bone? Assuredly they do; but in various degrees. No limb can
move unless some muscle contracts. Every muscle in the body arises from
bone, and is inserted into bone by the interposition of ligamentous
fiber. Before a member can be elevated or depressed, some muscle must
drag from some bone, that it may move some other bone more distantly
situated. Then, tendon cannot escape strain, since in no possible
attitude is every portion of the frame in absolute rest. Motor muscles,
however, generally exist in pairs. They are spoken of as elevators and
as depressors, or as flexors and as extensors. Their uses are opposite,
but not opposed. When one set works, the other is inactive.
The bones in the sketch, indicated by No. 2, evidently press against
the backward tendons. Such a position, if long maintained, leads to
fatigue, and ultimately induces pain. Man cannot enjoy rest under such
a condition of parts; though both tendon and muscle are benefited by
brief tension, continuous strain soon exhausts either structure. The
reader must have beheld two travelers meet upon a mountain’s side. One
shall be descending from the heights, the other is ascending from the
valley. But while the men converse, they do not hold their relative
positions one to the other. Each, without thought or reflection,
exchanges it for the horizontal situation; while their dialogue lasts,
both present their sides to the spectator.
[Illustration: STANDING ACROSS THE STALL.]
This is precisely what many horses learn to do. Much indignation is
always excited in the groom’s bosom because an animal, prompted by its
instinct, has discovered a method of easing its limbs and of saving the
master’s property from injury. Standing for hours upon an acclivity,
however gradual, throws stress upon the back sinews, and must pain
the tired limbs. To counteract that effect, the animal turns the head
from the manger, and stands across the flooring of the stall, after
the same plan as actuated the two travelers when they paused upon the
mountain side. But the conduct which in man draws forth no remark,
when exhibited by the horse is abominated by a virtuous groom as the
declaration of inveterate “vice.”
Pitiable vice! It is melancholy to behold a man cruelly punish an
animal for a reasonable act. But heavy castigation does every horse
receive that is guilty of exercising the instinct with which Heaven has
endowed it. The groom, being excited to resentment, grasps a stick and
deals well-aimed blows, while his voice shouts forth harsh words, which
pain and terrify the patient creature, whose only faults were too much
sense and too great feeling.
When a horse is terrified, danger is likely to ensue in exact
proportion to the smallness of that space which can be commanded for
the display of its alarm. The timidity being excessive, of course the
contortions of the body are equally demonstrative. The animal dashes
about, regardless of its own safety, and heedless of those around it.
It sees nothing; it can remember nothing, save only that some horrid
torture is imminent. Its struggles are wild efforts to escape. In the
momentary panic, it may break, or it may damage anything. It may kill
any person who shall stand in its way, or, in the furore of its agony,
it may, through misadventure, do serious mischief to its own body.
Such consequences are always to be expected when a horse is beaten
within the stable while the head is fastened to the manger. By the
latter circumstance, the probability of an injury is increased. Harm,
however, to his employer’s property, danger to his own person, and
peril to the safety of his charge, the groom despises, or willingly
hazards, rather than allow an odious “vice” to escape correction! No
severity, however, can teach a quadruped not to seek the ease which it
has discovered the means of realizing. When the groom is absent, or
during the night, the act of “wickedness” is always renewed, although,
in the presence of its attendant, the indulgence may be suppressed.
Slanting pavements likewise instruct horses in the practice of other
habits which the groom, in his peculiar sphere of mental elevation,
cannot otherwise than recognize as “vices.” As such, he punishes their
exhibition without mercy. Some public-house companion may visit the
stable-man while he is dozing through the afternoon upon the locker.
Most servants notoriously have no choice between stubborn duty and the
relaxation of “pipe and pot.” The groom is always the ready victim of
temptation, and upon the slightest persuasion quits the stable for
the parlor “over the road.” Some sad and patient animal may have been
silently watching, longing for the man’s absence, during a considerable
period; no sooner does the creature hear the door slam, than it begins
to take small steps backward. The horse thus feels its way till the
sudden fall in the pavement announces that the posterior hoofs have
reached the gutter, within the hollow of which the toes are immediately
depressed.
Such an attitude being attained, all stress upon the flexor tendons
is removed from the backward legs. The bones, while the toes can be
depressed, sustain the weight of the haunches. Partial ease is thereby
secured, and with the new sensation, a numbing torpor creeps over
the animal. Its feelings are soothed by present pleasure, and the
senses, thrown off their guard, grow dead to all outward impressions.
The victim of former ages, when taken from the rack, must still have
endured agony; but the lull occasioned by the cessation of acute
torture threw the sufferer into a lethargy, which is reported to have
resembled the luxury of sleep. So is it with the horse. The forefeet
are still undergoing torment; but, under partial relief, the animal
seems to doze, or becomes unconscious to the facts around it.
[Illustration: THE HIND FEET ARE EASED IN THE GUTTER.]
The horse is tranquilly luxuriating, and cozily reveling in the moments
of forbidden ease, when the groom quietly returns to the stable. His
eyes rest upon that “abominable wicious creatur, agin brakin o’ the
law!” The animal has actually dared to indulge in so much ease as
instinct can discover among the cruel invention of centuries by which
its body is surrounded. The quadruped excites the more anger by seeming
to enjoy its wickedness! The groom is infuriated by the contemplation
of such depravity! Beer and tobacco stimulate his indignation. He
creeps slyly toward the whip, and commences to lash the culprit.
Some persons may be inclined to suppose the being who has so recently
deserted his post, ought to look indulgently on what he conceives to
be the fault of another and of an inferior animal. But the vile always
are the pitiless; for charity is the foundation of all goodness. The
lash is plied with energy--the groom, between every blow, lamenting
“that he can’t step away for a few moments, ’thout the plaguey brute
being at its old tricks agin.” The thong curls round the quivering and
perspiring body. But severity in these cases is useless. The animal
has discovered a partial solace for its misery; it cannot choose but
indulge its pleasurable knowledge at the very next opportunity.
The stabled horse, however, has not only to stand upon a slanting
pavement through the day; it must throughout the night lie upon a
similar incline, rendered slippery by a covering of dry and polished
straw. Did the reader ever attempt to repose upon a bed slightly out
of the horizontal? The body cannot rest on such a couch. The sensation
communicated is an incessant fear of slipping off. The sleeper is
constantly wakened up, with a vivid impression that he is falling,
or has fallen, on to the floor. The night is passed in discomfort.
But what is the excitability of a human being, when compared with the
excessive fear which haunts the most timid of all created lives?
Man, when in a bed of the above description, naturally grows restless;
the bed-clothes are disturbed, and the body laid in an opposite
direction. All will not allay anxiety; at last the would-be sleeper is
obliged to remain contented with occasionally nudging himself higher
on to the pillow. Like man is the horse in many things, even as though
the animal studied and mimicked its master. Yet the inflation of pride
hails the resemblance as an insult, and regards animals as things
created for use, and doomed to be subservient to the caprice of mortal
pleasure.
Precisely as man would behave, did he chance to get upon a slanting
bed, the animal conducts itself, only with such difference as the
circumstances enforce. The human being reclines his head upon a pillow.
But the horse sinks the head while it slumbers. Man, therefore, nearly
touches the board situated at the topmost part of his resting-place.
Three feet, or even a larger space, may divide the quadruped from
the stable wall which forms the extremity of its couch. The floor on
which the creature lies is strewn with straw. That condition, however,
rather aggravates the inclination of the resting-place, for dried and
glossy stems of a circular figure accelerate more than they retard the
backward gravitation of the body.
The creature therefore--unable to reason, acting under the impression
that its body is continually sliding backward--endeavors to recover its
original position by nudging itself repeatedly forward. The horse has
neither light to see, hands to feel, nor sense to measure the distance.
Imagination is the only dependence which it can boast of. The advances
become energetic in proportion as the supposition which provokes them
is annoying. The annoyance is regulated by the irritability of the
quadruped. Some stable inhabitants grow more morbidly nervous; with
these, the advances are proportionably frequent; so that the head
of the captive, guided by the collar-rope, is speedily brought into
violent contact with the further end wall of its compartment.
Not comprehending the meaning of the blow, but suffering from pain and
fright, the animal attempts to rise. The commencement of this movement
always is the elevation of the head, which, after being raised, is
strained backward. This action is a necessity of its existence; and,
dreaming of no danger, the quadruped essays to fulfill the natural law.
The head, however, which has struck the wall of the stable, must at
the time be immediately under the manger. Imagining no impediment, the
animal exalts its crest with that impetuosity which characterizes all
the motions of the horse. It strikes against the manger, and a heavy
concussion sends the member into its original abiding-place.
The stricken creature cannot comprehend the reason of those blows it
has received. But it is often chastised for nothing, so beating is to
it almost a matter of course. It crouches in terror for some moments,
no doubt hoping its tormentor may move onward. Then, as the strained
senses can detect no sound, it ventures once more to raise its head.
The result is the same as it was before. The horse, after repeated
efforts, becomes alarmed. Mad with fear, and wild with desperation,
it now exerts its utmost strength. The contention may continue until
the groom enters the stable in the morning, when, bruised and panting,
its head swollen and bleeding, its strength exhausted and almost its
life expended, the wretched animal is discovered prostrated upon the
pavement.
This consequence of confining an animal in darkness is the serious,
and probably the permanent, deterioration of property. At the best,
the services are lost for many days. In any case, time must be allowed
for the necessary recovery. Few, very few people have the generosity
to recognize, and even fewer still are educated to perceive, that
a life has been for many hours breathing in agony, and that the
existence may hereafter, notwithstanding all the present state of art
can accomplish, probably drag its wretchedness about the world in a
crippled condition. No person living possibly will, when inspecting the
maimed and disabled horse, reflect upon the fate which dooms the animal
to years of sorrow, laboring through the lowest species of earthly
trial; no one will heave a sigh that such a fate overtook a placid,
gentle, and obedient creature, which was dangerously and cruelly
confined during the time of serving a being who was bound to study the
necessities and administer to the happiness of the life over which he
had assumed absolute authority.
[Illustration: CAST UNDER THE MANGER.]
Other evils also spring from obliging the horse to sleep on a surface
which is not level. The head of the animal being fastened to the
manger, it has no choice but to couch where it stands, or to remain
erect and endeavor to sleep in that position. There are quadrupeds
which adopt and which maintain the last alternative: their bodies never
repose on earth, until their injuries and their wrong are engulfed in
the common doom.
It is not every animal, however, which can hold to such a resolution,
in spite of the aches and agonies by which it must be enforced. Certain
creatures, feeling their bodies glide backward, rather facilitate
than endeavor to counteract the motion--hoping to soon rest upon the
gangway, which experience has taught them terminates the stall. Others
sleep so soundly as to be unconscious of the movement; while a third
class, having attained philosophy through a life of misfortune, pay but
little regard to the circumstances around them. In all instances the
frame descends the slope, till the quarters pass the gutter and repose
upon the gangway.
[Illustration: A HORSE STANDING WHILE IT SLEEPS.]
Yet, before the body can move such a distance from the manger, the
neck and the collar-rope must both be strained. However, finding its
body, at length, to be comfortably located, the animal meditates
composing itself to sleep, which is not to be done while the neck is
outstretched and the chain is raised far above its natural position. To
accomplish this, the muzzle must be considerably lowered and the neck
be retracted; but, before either can be done, the collar-rope must be
loosened. It is obviously impossible to change the attitude while that
fastening remains in a state of tension: the position in which the
horse invariably sleeps cannot, therefore, be assumed.
In this dilemma, the intelligent quadruped determines to rise and to
return to the manger. But a natural law has ordained that before the
horse gets up from the ground, the head shall be thrown backward;
thus lightening the weight upon the fore quarters, which parts are
always first raised. The straightening of the front limbs is thereby
facilitated. But this movement cannot now be put in practice because of
the rope which retains the neck outstretched. Struggles are useless;
the position is fixed, and the creature is powerless to alter it. The
limbs are free, but these can only be used to kick and to aggravate
the pain of the situation. The animal is a prisoner, and so it must
remain, vainly contending with its doom, and exhausting its energies in
fruitless efforts to escape.
Assuredly, he should have possessed an enlarged capacity for evil
who first conceived the notion of making a living creature, which
was conspicuous for its strength, its activity, and its timidity,
exist in a niche; to have its head tied up by day and by night; and
subsequently doomed it to rest upon a floor which sloped in a painful
and an unnatural direction. No surer means could have been invented of
shortening the life, of deforming the body, or of injuring the limbs
of the creature in whose prosperity man conceived he had “a property.”
Arms of all kinds, and of every description, the quadruped might have
been safely trusted with; but to require of activity, that it should
be fettered and forego all motion; to demand of timidity, that it
should be bound or imprisoned, and not display sensibility; to ask,
that strength should endure and not attempt to struggle, was surely
expecting too much from an inhabitant of a world in which fear, as the
natural instructor of organized beings, is universally prevalent.
[Illustration: LYING ON THE GANGWAY.]
The horse, thus located, was only presented with the ready means
of doing injury to itself. It was provided with the only weapons
which nature had empowered it to employ. A more unwholesome, a more
unnatural, or a more dangerous abode for any of the equine race
than the stall of a modern stable, it would be impossible for the
utmost stretch of the most excited malignity to imagine. Still, daily
accidents, which must have occurred for centuries, seem to be incapable
of instructing mankind, where the welfare of another and of an inferior
being is concerned!
Animals have been lamed; have lost the power of vision; have bred
terrible disorders, and have been found stretched in death upon the
straw bed, in consequence of the folly which has persisted in building
modern stables. Such accidents must, as a necessity, continue so
long as these edifices are erected. They are totally unsuited for
the creature which they torture, cripple, and confine. Yet, because
such abominations are sanctioned by custom and approved by ignorance,
it is far more than probable that the author’s exposure of their
unfitness will be read with amusement, and admitted to be just; but the
scourge which is recommended by its existence and patronized for its
convenience will still be perpetuated. It may continue to disgrace this
country for more than another century, although the judicious outlay
of a few shillings would greatly amend even modern stables. Banish the
stalls, and divide the interior into loose boxes. Lower the mangers
and the hay racks to the floor. Soften the food before presenting it
to the quadruped; and abolish the loft, now placed over where the
animals repose. Allow the entire space, from the ground to the roof,
for the huge lungs to breathe in. Improve the drainage. Warm the
building by means of a slow combustion and by water pipes. To effect
all this should not cost very much; and, as his reward, man would gain
the longer service of his slave, together with an inward approval,
springing from a consciousness of having done his duty toward the
meekness which Beneficence has intrusted to his keeping.