We return for a moment to the question of the association of yews with ancient remains. Professor H. Conwenz, at the meeting of the British Association in 1901, asserted that there exist some hundreds of place-names in England, Scotland and Ireland, connected with the word “yew.” Ireland was especially rich in this respect, and in some of the Irish localities fossil yew had been found. The statement, if verifiable, is of deep interest, but our English philologists, up to the present, do not seem to have dealt with this series of place-names. Near the churchyard yew of Darley Dale are traces of British dwellings[1079]. The Cranborne Chase yew grove is not far from the camp at Winkelbury, nor from the Romano-British villages of Woodcuts and Rotherly. Our churchyards, as shown in Chapters I. and II., are sometimes in close proximity to prehistoric antiquities. The allusion to assemblies—“conciones”—around the yew-tree (p. 383 supra) may carry us back to Saxon or even early British customs. At least one example of such ancient usage has been brought to light by Sir G. L. Gomme. It refers to the market and fair of Langsett, Yorkshire, which, together with the manorial court, were held under an old yew. During the eighteenth century, when the tree still flourished, tradition said that the meetings went back to time immemorial[1080]. Within these last sixty years, again, a yearly fair or wake was held on Palm Sunday—a noteworthy date—under the boughs of the old Surrey yew in Crowhurst churchyard[1081] (Fig. 72, p. 378).

One further problem remains to be noticed. Why is the yew, in a majority of instances, placed on the South side of the churchyard, or, failing the South, why on the West? For it is manifest to the careful observer that the North side is little favoured, and the East even less. In discussing the folk-lore of the cardinal points we saw that parishioners formerly shunned the North side of “God’s Acre,” and craved burial in the Southern or Western portions. The roots of this preference spread wide and deep, but even superficially there were reasons good enough. On the South side stood usually the churchyard cross (p. 328 supra). The main door and the entrance gate commonly faced the noonday sun. In Saxon times, when, as Dr Rock remarks, the simple building had often only one door, this door looked to the South[1082]. Clearly this quarter was popular. Originally, man would be guided in his selection by considerations of physical warmth; respect for solar influences on animated nature may have followed. Based on these feelings, ideas of sentiment, and later, of reverence, would be kindled in the minds of the worshippers.

For many years I have been collecting details concerning the position of yews in churchyards. Turning to the county of Surrey, I find well-grown yews tabulated for 41 churchyards—the list is not quite exhaustive. Of course, many churches lack the attendant yew. To simplify the question, we will imagine a median line passing East and West through the church, and prolonged through the churchyard. Trees standing South-East and South-West may for our present purpose be considered to be on the South side; the North-East and North-West corners are similarly reckoned as North. There remain the yews which occur roughly on the median line—East or West. On this basis, five Surrey yews were noted as being on the North side, and only six on the West. One only is recorded as standing due East. The remainder are situated due South or at intermediate positions in the sun’s track. Partial explanations may frequently be offered. In one case of a Western yew, there is a doorway at the West end only; in another, the tree is rather young, and is a doubtful claimant to be catalogued. Again, at Chipstead (Fig. 73, p. 379), a noble yew on the North overshadows a blocked-up Northern door of Transitional Norman date, so that formerly the villagers passed this tree as they entered the edifice. Still again, one North yew is perhaps accounted for by the fact that the Southern yard is a mere strip, though, to present the case fully, we must note that occasionally one finds a North yew where the Southern burial ground is spacious, and the Northern actually narrow and stinted.

In order to form a just opinion on the subject of the yew’s position, we ought to ascertain the earliest plan of the church and the original extent of the burial-ground. It would then, I think, be discovered that the space most used for interments, and the porch or door through which the worshippers generally entered the building, correspond, in the vast majority of cases, with the position of the sentinel yew. Which is cause, and which is effect, may be an open question. Did the yew obtain its place—generally, as we have seen, with the South aspect—because of the superstitious notions already given, and were the graves afterwards made in a cluster around it? Or did the accumulating burials on a particular side call forth a desire for a funereal emblem, a “warder of these buried bones,” as Tennyson sang? Again, did the yew precede the church, or the church the yew, or were they co-eval? Probably no single solution is the true one. Surveying the whole field, I think that the planting of the yew was generally an after-event, because a preference for interment on the sunny side goes back to pre-Christian times, and because the yew is not a universal feature in churchyards. In some few cases the building and the tree are apparently of equal age; in other instances, the church may have been built, one imagines, adjacent to an already existing tree.

The Surrey statistics are borne out by those of Hampshire. Out of twenty-one ancient yews which I have scheduled for that county, five only stand on the North side, two on the West, and one on the East. If a complete list were obtainable, it might tell a similar story. Here, as in dealing with Surrey, should two yews be present, the classification considers the older and more important tree; should there be more than two, the positions of the majority of old trees are taken. It frequently happens that there are several young trees, in those cases what may be called a “foundation yew” often dominates the graveyard. Two Easterly yews and one Northerly are alone recorded for those positions in Middlesex; two Northerly for Berkshire, and similarly for other counties, though in no county is the list at all complete. Again, out of nineteen Normandy villages with churchyard yews, the figures were: thirteen yews on the South, five West, one North, and none East. Hence, the preference is French as well as British. In districts where chalk and limestone are absent, the yew is comparatively scarce. On the Boulder Clay of Yorkshire and Lincolnshire, and, in fact, over the North of England as a whole, the ash, elm, and horse chestnut are the most usual trees. Frequently they are supplemented by a few pyramidal Irish yews of no great age.

A rapid co-ordination of details may now be given. The yew appears to have been held in superstitious respect during the Bronze Age[1083], and it is possible, in the preceding Neolithic period. The Romans and Greeks favoured the tree for its funereal symbolism. The earliest Christians in Britain seem to have adopted the yew as a sacred emblem, occasionally, perhaps, building their churches by its side; and, reverencing it because of its hallowed associations, they employed it for certain gloomy ceremonies. Early Mediaeval symbolists saw in the tree a type alike of death and of resurrection, and the yew actually obtained a position in ritual, and prestige in the Church Calendar. Much later, it crept into the Christmas decorations. Meanwhile, in harmony with the Mediaeval practice of combining the secular and religious life of the community, the yew seems to have been in some instances a trysting-place for open-air assemblies. It sheltered the church fabric from storms, and, at a time when “England was but a fling, But for the eugh and the grey goose wing,” it lent its aid in protecting the country itself. The “sad, unsociable plant” most likely increased numerically—in churchyards, in avenues, and on upland wastes where it had flourished in Pleistocene times but had afterwards disappeared. History tells little of all these incidents, but in the minds of most men, ignorant or learned, there is an instinctive feeling, not dissonant with reasonable probability, that this mysterious, old-world tree derives its dignity and expressiveness from the customs of ages exceedingly remote. Well might Mr William Watson, sitting—not indeed, under some aged tree in a sequestered graveyard, but beneath the shade of the monarch yew near Newlands Corner, in Surrey—sing of the exceeding longevity of these sentinels, which guard their secrets with such jealousy:

CHAPTER X

THE CULT OF THE HORSE

To the expert palaeontologist, who prepares the way for the patient workers in zoology and folk-lore, the descent of the horse is attractive because it illustrates, with great beauty and precision, the modern doctrine of development. From an examination of many collections of bones, derived both from the Old and the New Worlds, Huxley and Marsh constructed a general pedigree, of which the details, as discoveries have gradually accumulated, have been filled in by such workers as Sir E. Ray Lankester, Dr C. W. Andrews, Mr R. Lydekker, and Professor J. Cossar Ewart, in Britain, and, in the United States, by Professor R. S. Lull. We begin, far back in the lowest Eocene division of the Tertiary period, with a small hypothetical, or at least unidentified, plantigrade creature, perhaps no larger than a rabbit, with five digits on each of its fore and hind limbs. It would be difficult to produce a specimen of the exact ancestral animal which would satisfy all investigators, but its former existence is doubted by few[1085]. Still keeping to the Eocene formation, though mounting to a higher horizon—the London Clay—we come to Hyracotherium, which was an animal about the size of a hare or very small fox, and which fed on the soft, green vegetation around the margins of lakes and rivers[1086]. Hyracotherium (Fig. 80) had four toes on its fore feet[1087], with vestiges, or “rudiments,” as they are unfortunately called, of a fifth. In Palaeotherium of the Upper Eocene, there are three toes only, but these are nearly equal in size[1088]. (It may be well to recall the geological systems of the Tertiary period: they are, in ascending order, Eocene, Oligocene, Miocene, Pliocene.) In the Oligocene genus Mesohippus, of which the members were perhaps as large as a sheep, there is still a suggestion of a fourth toe in the fore foot[1089], but the two side toes which are actually discernible do not themselves quite touch the ground. In Hipparion of the Miocene and Pliocene formations, the lateral toes, each terminated by hoofs, were still shorter; and the earlier Anchitherium was in much the same plight. Both the last-named animals are now deemed to be off the direct ancestral line of our present-day horses[1090], but they may stand as early types. Indeed it is difficult to formulate a genealogy which is everywhere accepted. Chiefly owing to the migrations which must have occurred, no complete family tree can be prepared, and all attempts, while true as a whole, are only approximately correct as regards the detailed relationships. The general direction being clear, onward we go, passing creatures as large as a donkey, still preserving vestiges of the lateral toes, till at last we reach the horses of history. The horse which we know

has but one central, solid-nailed or hoofed toe, but it retains, hidden beneath the skin, traces of two side toes in the form of the “splint bones,” as they are called by the anatomist and the veterinary surgeon.

Thus we see that the primitive creature, which throve on the lowlands and in the damp forests, was succeeded by representatives which had lost the divided hoof. We infer that a change of habitat had occurred: the cloven, spreading foot was no longer necessary. Accompanying this modification, great structural changes were developed in the teeth, suggesting that the animal had begun to feed on harder, drier herbage. There are other “decadent remnants” visible in the modern horse, such as the callosities, or “chestnuts,” of the limbs, which are believed to have once been functional, possibly as scent-glands[1091]. Viewed as a whole, the developed genus Equus is larger, swifter, and stronger than its ancestors, and it is proportionately more supple and graceful.

The story just outlined is not a whispering vision vouchsafed to a few favoured palaeontologists. Behind the theory there is reality, as may easily be proved by a study of authoritative works[1092], or by an examination of the specimens in the Natural History Museum at South Kensington.

Our first intimation of human contact with the horse is furnished by the Solutrean and Magdalenian caves and rock-shelters of France. Representations of the animal, both on the flat and the round, are not uncommonly found associated with remains of the latter period. The cavern of Bruniquel, Tarn-et-Garonne (Magdalenian period), yielded sculptures of horses’ heads, representing carved objects which were probably portions of javelin-throwers. A fragment of a horse’s rib from the same site was engraved with three horses’ heads[1093]. From the cave-shelter of La Madelaine, Dordogne, there was obtained a bone incised with the figure of a naked man, on each side of which was a horse’s head[1094]. Other French examples might be given (Fig. 81 A). Only one English specimen is on record—a polished fragment of a rib, engraved with the head of a horse, found at Robin Hood’s Cave, Cresswell Crags, Derbyshire[1095] (Fig. 81 B).

From a casual inspection of these early and priceless works of art, we might conclude that the horse known to Palaeolithic man was of a stunted breed, small and heavy, with a large head, rounded forehead, short neck, and an upright or “hog mane.” But this generalization would be lacking in precision. Professor Ewart has discriminated three types. The first type includes horses the features of which closely agree with those of the wild species (Equus prejevalskii) recently discovered in the Great Gobi Desert. (There is a wide diversity of usage in spelling the scientific name of this animal, as also the name of its Russian discoverer.) This horse, a specimen of which is to be seen in the Zoological Gardens, London (Fig. 82), resembles pre-eminently the Cave horse just described. The second type embraces animals which resemble the broad-browed ponies often met with in the Western Highlands of Scotland, while the third type suggests the slender-limbed, narrow-headed ponies of Western and North-Western Europe[1096].

Whether Palaeolithic man, even during the latest Cave Period, had begun to tame the horse, is a question which has been keenly debated. Bones found by M. É. Piette in the celebrated cave of Mas d’Azil, on the left bank of the Ariège, in Southern France, were incised with drawings of horses’ heads. In one example there was a delineation of what are supposed to be halters, and in another, of some kind of trappings[1097]. I believe that the nature of these ornaments is not widely disputed, so that the controversy turns upon their exact signification. The trappings have, indeed, been thought to represent a hunter’s fur cloak, carelessly thrown over a subjugated horse; and again, with slightly more reason, it is urged that the “saddle” is imaginary, the lines being merely a conventional finish to the drawing, comparable to the marks on early pottery. Again, the use of anything of the nature of a saddle could scarcely appertain to the earliest stages of domestication. M. Zaborowski has conjectured that the supposed halters are really lassoes, and it has therefore been inferred that horses were kept semi-domesticated in a kind of compound, for purposes of food[1098]. We may notice, as bearing on this contention, the description given by Herodotus respecting the Sagarthians, an ancient people allied to the Persians in speech and in dress. The Sagarthians were in the habit of capturing their foe—“be it man, or be it horse”—by the aid of lassoes terminating in nooses[1099]. Canon Rawlinson tells us that this practice was common to many of the ancient nations of Western Asia[1100]. As to the horse of the Cave Period, MM. Carl Vogt, Émile Cartailhac, and G. de Mortillet, consider that its domestication would be possible only by the help of the dog, the first animal to be tamed; and since remains of the dog are lacking at Palaeolithic stations, a presumably fatal objection is lodged[1101]. This view is not, however, uniformly accepted. M. Julien Fraipont, for instance, grants that the drawings show that man had tamed the animals represented, but denies that this implies domestication. The creatures were probably captured young[1102]. But is not this tantamount to an admission that the first step towards domestication had been taken?

Early man, as a modern humorist has remarked, would indeed at first take to his heels to avoid the heels of the early horse. But this fear did not last for ever. Palaeolithic man both hunted the animal and ate its flesh. At the rock-shelter of Solutré, Saône-et-Loire, there was discovered, around the primitive hearths, a veritable wall of horse bones, the relics of thousands of animals[1103]. At La Laugerie, horses’ teeth abounded[1104]. At the rock-shelter of Cro-Magnon remains of the horse were predominant. It has been urged that these remains were not those of wild animals. Professor N. Joly supposes that the horse would be sheltered, and gradually brought to a less precarious condition of life. He also cites M. Toussaint, who boldly claims that the horse bones of Solutré are those of domesticated animals. Allowing for minor differences, it is submitted that the bones are quite similar to those of modern horses. The quantity of bones and the age of the horses which they represent—four, five, or six years—are deemed to indicate a domestic herd. The remains are assembled in one place, and it is therefore assumed that the horses were boiled, cut up, and eaten at that spot, just as would be the case with domesticated animals. Had the horses been hunted in a wild state, they would have been carried piecemeal from a distance, as is the case with the earliest caves of the archaeolithic age[1105]. These arguments are by no means without a flaw, but they carry some weight. And English opinion, so far as can be gathered, is rather in favour of the theory that the Palaeolithic cave-men had made tentative efforts in taming the horse. Our English authorities seem to lay more stress on the Mas d’Azil trappings than do their French brethren[1106].

When we come to the Neolithic Age, we find an anomaly; the horse seems to be a much rarer animal than in the preceding period. Yet horses of a type closely resembling those of the Palaeolithic Age were probably domesticated in several parts of Europe[1107]. Skulls obtained from Pleistocene deposits at Walthamstow, Essex, seem, on the one hand, to indicate a race allied to, if not identical with, the Solutrean cave-horse of the Mongolian type (E. prejevalskii)[1108]. Horse remains, however, from later superficial deposits, associated with Neolithic relics only, appear to be rare. Though found amid the ruins of Neolithic lake-dwellings in Switzerland, bones of the horse cannot be declared abundant, even at those stations. The British evidence is so unsatisfactory that some writers, like Lord Avebury, have doubted whether the horse was known in Britain during the Neolithic Age. Lord Avebury states that he knows of no well-authenticated instance of the occurrence of the horse in a long barrow. After analysing the records of excavations made by Greenwell and Bateman, he concludes that the horse bones tabulated by these investigators belong to the Bronze Age, or even to a later period[1109]. Again, Professor Ridgeway, after asserting that it is by no means clear that Neolithic man had tamed the horse, conjectures that the primeval horses had become extinct, and had been replaced by a re-introduced species only at the end of the Bronze, or the beginning of the Iron Age[1110].

Against these conclusions may be set the opinion of Canon Greenwell: “I cannot understand how any one with the evidence properly before him can doubt that the goat, sheep, horse, and dog were, in the earliest Neolithic times, imported as domesticated animals into this country and into Switzerland[1111]”—a notable statement. Since it is the horse alone with which we are now dealing, I select some of Canon Greenwell’s examples of barrows which yielded bones of that animal. In a round barrow of the East Riding, two pelvic bones were found associated with implements of flint and greenstone[1112]. Another round barrow contained the remains of three horses, accompanied, however, by a bronze dagger as well as pottery[1113]. The famous Rudstone barrow, in which horse teeth were discovered, furnished large quantities of implements, all of stone[1114]. With these typical cases, the reader may compare those described by Mr J. R. Mortimer, whose researches were also made in Yorkshire[1115]. If it be objected that round barrows are not Neolithic, it must be remembered that the Yorkshire round barrows form a special class. They enclose human remains which do not belong to one race only, and many of them are now assigned to the Transition period which is known as the Aeneolithic (i.e. Bronze-Stone Age)[1116]. When stone implements alone are found in the barrows, the early, or, at least, transitional character of such mounds is emphasized.

There is other evidence available. Professor Boyd Dawkins has recorded the discovery of remains of the horse (Equus caballus) from five British bone caves, and from one refuse heap in North Wales, all the stations being considered as belonging to the Neolithic period[1117]. Mr W. J. Knowles, in a letter to the writer, dated February 10, 1909, states that he has frequently found teeth and bones of the horse at the Whitepark Bay site, co. Antrim; the associated implements found there are classed as early Neolithic or Mesolithic. Although Mr Knowles has not himself found the relics in the “old floor,” he believes that they were derived from that level; moreover, the Rev. G. R. Buick has actually obtained similar remains from this undisturbed “black layer.” Again, Mr Wintour F. Gwinnell informs me that he has in his possession horse teeth, which there is every reason to believe were found in association with a flint celt, also in his possession. The implement and the teeth were dug up at Wiggonholt, in Sussex. Dr A. Irving, again, describing to the British Association (1910) horse remains found at Bishops Stortford, claimed that the relics were those of a late Pleistocene type of animal, and further that this type persisted down to the Early Iron Age. Since the associated objects included some which belonged to the Bronze and Early Iron, as well as the Neolithic, periods, the age of this particular deposit could not, unfortunately, be settled beyond dispute. Some have even thought the remains modern[1118].

There is thus a measure of reasonableness in the belief that “the horse has been here all the time,” as a witty naturalist once expressed it. It is also not improbable that Neolithic man of Britain had tamed the animal, and that, partly in consequence, it had become less familiar to the primitive butcher. That the horse was eaten by man during the Bronze Age seems proven. The bones and teeth found in grave-mounds of the period appear to be the relics of funeral feasts. Mr J. R. Mortimer, who has excavated large numbers of barrows of the Aeneolithic and Bronze Ages, deems it certain that the horse was eaten at the burial banquet. He relies for proof mainly on the fact that the bones were always found detached, and often broken[1119].

From a study of classical references to the horse, and from a comparison of survivals existing among primitive peoples, one is led to infer that the horse was first domesticated, not for riding, but for yoking to carts and chariots. By some writers it is conjectured that there was even an earlier stage, when Turko-Tartaric tribes impounded the horse and reared it for the sake of its milk and flesh. In corroboration of this hypothesis, Professor Ridgeway and Dr O. Schrader refer to the modern Kalmucks and Tartars, who retain a rooted preference for mares’ milk, a legacy from the days when this liquid was used for daily nutrition[1120]. Among other races, and in other climes, the ox may have had a parallel history. But from this debateable ground we move to matters better attested. Riding a horse (κελητίξειν) was such a rare and curious exhibition in ancient Greece, that but a single casual instance is recorded in the writings of Homer. Equestrian exercise was “the half-foreign accomplishment of the Kentauroi[1121].” It has, indeed, been suggested that the fable concerning the Thessalian Centaurs, who were half-man and half-horse, originated in accounts of the earliest feats of horsemanship. At Marathon (B.C. 490), the Persians, but not the Greeks, used cavalry. The story of the horse in Greece seems to have been repeated in Ireland, as shown by the poetical literature of the latter country. Professor Ridgeway states that, in the earliest Irish epics, the warriors all fight from chariots—there are no riders on horseback. In the later cycle—that of Finn and Ossian (A.D. 150-300), horses are little used, and, when mentioned at all, they are ridden.

Herodotus tells us of tribes who lived North of the Danube and who possessed horses of a peculiar kind. The description is somewhat precise. The horses were small and flat-nosed (or “short-faced”) and were incapable of carrying men (σμικροὐς δἐ καἰ σιμοὐς καἰ ἀδυνάτους ἄνδράς φέρειν). The animals were covered entirely with a coat of shaggy hair, five fingers in length—about 3½ inches. (ἐπἰ πέντε δακτύλους το βάθος—“to the depth of five fingers.”) Though not strong enough to bear men, the horses, when yoked to chariots, were among the swiftest known[1122]. While some writers have seen in this passage an allusion to creatures of the type of the Shetland pony, Professor Ridgeway has remarked that the description agrees well with the skeletons of horses found near Mâcon (Saône-et-Loire), especially in respect to the short, ugly-shaped skulls[1123].

The Hebrew Scriptures contain numerous references to the horse, in connection with both riding and charioteering. Yet it is noteworthy that no mention is made of the animal at all until after the return of the Israelites from Egypt. Earlier enumerations of patriarchal wealth speak of sheep, oxen, camels, and asses, but not of horses. The first mention of the horse on Egyptian monuments appears during the 18th Dynasty (c. B.C. 1520)[1124]. After the Egyptian Captivity, Scriptural allusions begin to grow common. No lover of literary form will forget Job’s magnificent description of a war-horse, whose neck is clothed with thunder, and the glory of whose nostrils is terrible[1125]. It is well, too, to remember, as an historical event, the establishment, by David, of a force of cavalry and charioteers after his crushing defeat of Hadadezer[1126].

The deplorable deficiency of pictorial art in the Neolithic and Bronze periods deprives us of the means of fully checking the sequence of the stages in horse-taming in Europe. The rock-carvings, however, of Norway and Sweden, which date from the Bronze Age, show that the horse was used for riding and driving[1127]. That this age was preceded, in Scandinavia or Central Europe, by an era when the horse was employed for traction and transport only, is very probable. Swiss lake-dwellings of the Bronze Age seem to indicate an overlapping of the stages. The discovery, on these sites, of numerous horse-bits and wooden wheels would suggest that the villagers both rode horses and drove waggons or chariots[1128].

An incidental matter is of some little interest. How did the very earliest horsemen—who, by the way, would ride barebacked—mount their steeds? Stirrups, and perhaps even bridles, were, at the beginning of the experiments, unknown. Four modes have been suggested as possible: vaulting, vaulting with the help of a pole or spear, making the horse crouch, and lastly, as in the old Persian fashion, stepping from a slave’s back[1129].

That the Britons of Caesar’s day were expert equestrians and charioteers, is sufficiently clear from the Commentaries[1130]. The great general describes, with manifest admiration, the manner in which the Britons, suddenly quitting their chariots, charged the Romans in an unequal contest on foot (ex essedis desilirent et pedibus dispari proelio contenderent)[1131]. More startling still was the amazing trick, exhibited by the drivers of chariots, of running along the pole, or standing upon the yoke, while the chariot was going at full speed.

While the Celts of Britain were pre-eminently noted for their fighting by a combination of infantry and cavalry, some of the more Easterly Aryan races were unaccustomed to the latter mode of warfare. Dr Schrader, whose authority has already been invoked on the question of the use of mare’s milk by tribes living on the Asiatic steppes, brings out the contrast by a reference to the European Celts. These Celts built waggons and chariots, and it seems probable, from a study of the Latin vocabulary, that the Romans were dependent on the vanquished for the manufacture of such objects. Dr Schrader cites, among other words, reda, a mail-coach, and carrus, a waggon, which are derived from Celtic sources[1132]. To Dr Schrader’s list may be added Caesar’s word for chariot, essedum, and its synonym, employed by Tacitus, covinus[1133].

Since it is not intended to trace here fully the story of the horse in historic times, a short digression may be allowed in order to notice one or two important details. That the Saxons practised horsemanship to some extent is proved by Bede’s allusion to a party of young men trying the speed of their horses on an open piece of ground[1134]. Much earlier, in the reign of Alexander Severus, about A.D. 222, there is an authentic record of horse-races, but these were probably held under Roman patronage. Like records are known, referring to races at the Roman stations of Netherby, Caerleon, Silchester, and Dorchester[1135]. King Athelstan paid some attention to the breeding of horses, and imported animals from Spain to improve the species[1136]. William of Malmesbury describes a present sent to this monarch by Hugh the Great, Count of Paris. A portion of the gift consisted of racehorses (equos cursores), with their rich trappings (cum phaleris)[1137]. Again, William Fitzstephen, writing in the twelfth century, supplies us with a spirited and detailed account of an English horse-race[1138]. During the reigns of John and Edward III. horse-breeding received further encouragement; the latter king forbade the exportation of English horses. Henry VIII. made various enactments with a like general purpose, but stress was especially laid on the deterioration of breed due to promiscuous crossing of strains. The pasturing of entire horses on the common lands was therefore forbidden[1139]. Gradually the English cart-horse began to be developed—to some extent, perhaps, from sires and dams of the old war-horse type. By the time of Charles II., James II., and William of Orange, marked changes became apparent[1140]. But there is no space at present to pursue the subject. Else we might refer to the evolution of the modern racehorse, and the rise of the bewildering breeds which one sees to-day. In the next chapter, however, it will be shown by what means the horse came to supplant the ox for work in the fields and on the high roads.

A subsidiary matter must be lightly touched. Were the horses of classical times provided with shoes? Much contradictory evidence has been put forward in reply, and the case seems to depend upon the periodical swing of ancient opinion and practice, neither of which moved uniformly. At times, shoeing was entirely deprecated. Yet the feet of Roman horses of the first century B.C. were often clad with coverings of reeds or hemp (soleae sparteae), or, more rarely, with leather[1141]. These coverings constituted a sort of sandal, and it has been supposed that their use was temporary, as is the case to-day with the leather slippers worn by horses when drawing a mowing machine across a lawn. Thin soles or shoes of iron were also used, being fixed, according to Mr Basil Tozer, to the leather cap just described[1142]. Whether this were the actual mode of attachment or not, we find Nero, in the first century A.D., shoeing his mules with “soleae” of silver, instead of iron, while his wife Poppaea, with the arrogance of wealth, used plates of gold for a similar purpose[1143]. Professor Ridgeway supposes that the next advance from the sole of metal would be to cut a piece out of the middle, thus economizing material, and giving the horse a firmer grip[1144]. This lies in the realm of conjecture, but of more direct importance is Professor Ridgeway’s opinion that there is no reason to doubt the Roman date of certain horseshoes found in France, seeing that the associated objects pointed to that period[1145]. Horseshoes of supposed Roman date are exhibited in various museums. Four specimens are to be seen in the Guildhall Museum, London; one is sketched in Fig. 83 E.

Richard Berenger (A.D. 1771), in his History and Art of Horsemanship, states that a horseshoe was found in the tomb of Childeric I. of France[1146] (d. A.D. 481). Berenger gives an illustration of the shoe, copied from De Montfaucon; it has four nail-holes on each side, and looks remarkably like the modern article. Mr Tozer asserts that iron shoes came into regular use in the first half of the sixth century (A.D.). Yet General Pitt-Rivers describes and figures horseshoes (Fig. 83 A, 83 B) which were found in the Romano-British settlements of Woodyates and Woodcuts, in Cranborne Chase. He records other specimens, and asserts that the people of that period shod their horses with iron[1147]. Professor Ridgeway, while believing it improbable that the Angles brought with them any particular shape of horseshoe[1148], reproduces from the Proceedings of the Cambridge Antiquarian Society Professor T. McKenny Hughes’s