We have been particularly led into
reflections of this kind by a sensible and
thoughtful book upon cavalry that has been
published recently by Captain Nolan. We
shall draw upon that book for illustrations of
some points to which we have referred.
Captain Ganzauge, a Prussian lancer, has given
this account of one affair between the nimble
Cossacks and the heavy French dragoons.
"Several squadrons were told off to attack
the enemy in flank and rear during the
conflict. All these orders were steadily obeyed;
they pressed in upon the French, and
surrounded their squadrons: here I saw, myself,
many of the French dragoons cut down or
speared after firing off their carabines, before
they could draw their swords. The French
steadily defended themselves at first, as well
as cavalry standing still can do, against such
active adversaries, who swarmed about them
on all sides; however, presently, some of
them turned, and their example was soon
followed by the remaining squadrons. The
reserve, instead of advancing to restore the
fight, joined in the flight; in a short time
every one was galloping towards Jacobsthal,
and the entire plain was covered with
scattered horsemen. Not one troop was to be
seen in close order; it was a regular hunt,
and most of those who were taken prisoners
in it had previously fallen from their horses."

In the late Hungarian war Klapka relates
a bold attack on the part of the enemy with a
regiment of cuirassiers and a brigade of guns,
by which the rear guard was driven in, only
two thousand yards outside the camp. "The
men of the ninth Nikolaus hussars sprang on
their horses," Klapka says, "and galloped
to the rescue. A splendid sight it was to see
this swarm of light horsemen dashing in on
the heavy cuirassiers, bursting their ranks
asunder, cutting down, destroying, and
scattering them in all directions. The hussars
captured the whole of the enemy's guns, which,
with a number of prisoners, they brought
triumphantly into camp." The Hungarian
hussars, who performed brilliant actions
throughout the whole war, are really light
and unencumbered troops. They wear no
stocks, but simple handkerchiefs about their
necks.

As for our preposterous military stocks, the
best advice concerning them was given by
Dr. Fergusson, the army surgeon. If the
men's necks are to be tortured for the public
good, he proposed that they should have
issues established in them; they possibly
might clear the head, while ligatures can only
muddle it.

We would have —in place of these
tremendous horseloads into which the members
of our cavalry are converted, for pure
purposes of show —active men tolerably light,
supple of limb, good riders, riding naturally.
Never mind what the height of each may be,
if he be only active, strong, intelligent, and
quick of sight. Even in what we call our
light cavalry, there are to be found men
riding —taking them with all their trammels
— twenty stone. In one of the finest
regiments of the Hungarian hussars, the men are
all small and well built, their average height
not being above five feet four. There was an
old military tradition, still in force in many
countries, that the value of cavalry depends
upon the height of man and horse: but the
truth is, that a cavalry soldier should be as
light and small as can be consistent with the
possession of strength, nimbleness and vigour;
that a powerful horse lightly and naturally
ridden by a strong man, who is not himself
weighed down with trappings, carries into
battle a most formidable soldier, who puts the
impetus and strength of horse and man at
once into each blow that he strikes: who is
in the best position for attack or self-defence,
and who has the fairest chance when hardly
pressed of fighting his way bravely out of
danger.

It is hardly to be credited that in this land
of horsemanship, our cavalry are, for
tradition's sake, sent to expose their lives in battle,
riding very much as Guy Fawkes rides
astride upon his donkey. English soldiers
used to ride as became their birthplace until
the time of Marlborough, when France and
Germany came to be regarded as great
military lights, and English soldiers took to the
riding ways of Frenchmen and Germans —who
are never less at home than when they have
a horse between their legs. The English are
the best riders in Western Europe; our
women ride better than continental men. Is
it not ridiculous that our soldiers should
be compelled by routine to ride after the
gawky and unhandy fashion used by foreigners,
whose pure misfortune it is that they know
no better?

The Germans spend years over a military
horse in teaching it to jump up perpendicularly,
and to kick its legs out while still
fairly off the ground; but, as riders, they
can scarcely leap a three-foot ditch, and never
keep their seats while doing so; in riding at
a trot they bump upon their saddles like so
many rammers bumping upon paving-stones.
Our cavalry soldiers bump in the same way,
because it is part of their routine duty to sit
in the German way, with the legs nearly
in one line with the body. The old knights
in armour, being heavily weighted, were
compelled to take care how they threw the
centre of gravity too far to one side; if
they had not studied balance-riding, they
would often have come down, at unexpected
moments, in the dust. But of what use
are such traditions in this country? Englishmen
learn to sit their horses as familiarly
and safely as their chairs, and let their
horses take them over hedge and ditch with
perfect ease. The natural way of riding,
common among us, neither galls the horse nor
shakes the breath out of the rider's body.
The artificial way of riding, common abroad