THE HORSE IN EUROPEAN HISTORY, 1550-1900 by Tatsuya Mitsuda, B.A. (Keio), M.Phil. (Cantab.) Fitzwilliam College, Cambridge A thesis submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy Faculty of History University of Cambridge 2007 Je hais tout autre voiture que le cheval Montaigne Acknowledgements At the dinner table, when polite conversation turns to the inevitable etiquette of exchanging hobbies and interests, people are often surprised – and some disappointed – to hear, that I have had very little to do with horses. What’s more, I probably never will. My years spent in Japan, England and Germany – which are countries invariably passionate about their horses – seem to lead some people to suspect that I would be too. Not that there have been a lack of opportunities to become interested, of course. During childhood, my parents were keen to take me pony-riding in the countryside, at the ‘Mother’s Farm’ in Chiba, near Tokyo. But my recollection of this experience is far from fresh, and pictures that my parents have thrust in front of me to jog my memory depict a mounted child exuding a sense of utter indifference. When, some years later, I visited Sandown racecourse, in Surrey, albeit to play Par-Three golf in the areas inside the racetrack, it did not dawn on me that horses galloped around the same space on meeting days. Much later, when friends at university wanted to take me to racecourses in and around Tokyo, to experience the roars of thousands of punters urging their thoroughbreds on, I had better things to do. Perhaps the only time when I came even close to setting foot on a racecourse was when the Japan Racing Association began to put on night-time races, which appealed because they promised romantic evenings out on the turf. But before I could offer this experience, my girlfriend at that time left me. Even when, following my decision to take on horseracing as a topic of research, attempts to become more personally involved were undertaken –these have all ended up firing blanks. Having a flutter at least on Derby Day, watching Glorious Goodwood on television, appreciating equestrian eventing at the Olympics in Athens when I worked as interpreter, taking time to visit Newmarket, and popping into the National Gallery to look at paintings of George Stubbs have been promises I made to myself – but which I have never kept. Every time I look back at the numerous occasions when I could have become interested, in fact, I see, as a historian, the unlikelihood of why I ever i became interested in horses. Whatever the motivation, therefore, the result was certainly not inevitable. My chance encounter with horses, as a subject of academic study, came while I was researching in Helsinki on a totally different topic of ‘ethnic crime’ in late imperial Russia, when I happened upon a court case of a supposedly Russian horse, called Rassvet, that had won races under suspicious circumstances during the early twentieth century. What was intriguing about the furore that enveloped the racehorse was how Russians themselves came to doubt the likelihood of a Russian-bred racehorse being able to compete and win against ‘western’ ones. My initial reaction to reading the Rassvet incident was thus to hastily see it as an illuminating example of the Russian inferiority complex vis-à-vis the ‘West’. But as I thought and read about the general subject of horseracing, it quickly became clear that what I saw were humans who conferred emotion upon the horses rather than the horses themselves. Why this topic has kept me involved over the years of the PhD is the undoubted intellectual challenge it presents for scholars to incorporate horses without completely diminishing their presence or hijacking them for different ends, for this was what I had initially done when I pigeon-holed Rassvet within discourses of Russian nationalism and identity. My challenge since then has been to look closer at the peculiarly ‘equine’ strand that has run through European history. By the same token, since I am no lover of horses, or in fact of any animal, I cannot lay claim to moral arguments about the abysmal conditions in which horses historically had to work, the relentless cruelty inflicted upon them in towns and cities, or their courage, or ‘sagacity’, as cavalry horses on countless battlefields – these compassionate reasons are not why I feel their stories need to be told. As far as I am concerned, I will have no qualms about continuing to live in an equine-free bubble and feel no excessive outrage at the number of horses that have to be put down following falls at Becher’s Brook each year during the Grand National. But, as a historian, I fully realise that we are still living in an age where it was only relatively recently that horses were considered indispensable to the functioning of the world. Even though it would be disingenuous of me to say that we owe it to the horses that ii we take them seriously, it would, I think, be reasonable to say that any understanding of the past would end up poorer and incomplete without them in it. Many institutions and people have helped me as a person over the years I have pursued studies in Cambridge, and it is with great pleasure that I can finally record my gratitude to them. My time as a PhD candidate at Cambridge, first of all, was made possible by a variety of funding bodies. Most importantly, I wish to record the unremitting support of the Cambridge Overseas Trust and its colourful director Dr Anil Seal, not only for the award of a Scholarship, but also for periodic financial top-ups at times of particular need. As an overseas student, I also benefited from an Overseas Research Studentship (ORS) without which I would not have been able to afford doctoral studies in the United Kingdom. My appreciation also extends to my college, Fitzwilliam, which elected me to a Senior Scholarship for the duration of the PhD and to the Cambridge Political Economy Society whose financial help provided the basis on which I could concentrate on the task of writing-up. Over the years, research has been funded by The Prince Consort and Thirlwall Fund, The Matsushita (Panasonic) International Scholarship Foundation, The Sir John Plumb Fund, The Cambridge European Trust, and The Royal Historical Society. During the research phase I also accumulated many debts at numerous libraries and archives. For their assistance, I would like to record my thanks to the staff of the following places: Cambridge University Library, especially Rare Books Reading Room and Official Publications Room; British Library; Imperial College Science Library, especially the informative staff of the Combden collection; Wellcome Library for the History of Medicine; the Public Record Office, Kew, London; Keio University Library, Tokyo; Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin (Unter den Linden); Universitätsbibliothek der Humboldt-Universität (Zweigbibliothek Agrarwissenschaft); Landesarchiv Berlin; Geheimes Staatsarchiv, Preussicher Kulturbesitz; Landesbibliothek Hannover; Tierärztliche Hochschule Hannover; Technische Informationsbibliothek der Universität Hannover; Library of the Medizinische Hochschule Hannover; Library of the Historisches Seminar, iii Universität Hannover; Österreichische Nationalbibliothek; Universitätsbibliothek Wien, especially the closet that is the Sonderleserraum; Österreichisches Staatsarchiv and its affiliate library for military history; Wiener Stadt- und Landesarchiv; Fachbibliothek, Historisches Seminar, Universität Wien; and the cathedral of knowledge that is the Bibliothèque nationale de France. During lone periods of research, when I have had to be away from Cambridge, I have been fortunate to receive the generosity of many people. Dr Jan Plampe at Tübingen kindly acted as supervisor during my year abroad. Professor Beate Wagner-Hasel helped me find my feet when I was in Hanover, as did Professor Johann Schäffer, while in Paris Professor Patrick Eveno provided me with references and a place to stay. In Munich Bele Jüngling alerted me to Reinhart Koselleck’s article which encouraged me to look more fundamentally than I was willing to do at the time. Back in Cambridge, I have benefited from discussion, especially with Gustav Sjöblom, whose interests in rail and road nicely link to mine. More fundamentally, Luke Robinson has repeatedly probed and tested my ideas and forced me to think simply and clearly. Both of their friendships and intellectual input I value highly. Equally, I am grateful to Chris Clark, who has been a stalwart believer in my project from its genesis and whose enthusiasm for history, regardless of era, country or approach, has been infectious. At Fitzwilliam, Bill Allison, my tutor, has been a constant source of wisdom, always ready to lend an ear and think through problems. Most of all, however, I am hugely indebted to Hubertus Jahn, who has been fantastic as supervisor. Even when I chose to change direction, firstly from researching Russian history to more general European history, he never objected or criticised my intentions, but applauded them. When the project took shape, evolving into an eclectic assortment of themes and periods, he never wavered in his confidence that I would ultimately be able to make sense out of them. In the end, I really owe it to him and to Cambridge for allowing me the freedom to pursue such a broad-based and ambitious topic that might have been easily dismissed had I been anywhere else. More generally, I wish to thank my friends in the UK, Europe and Japan who have all added to the enjoyment of life and have kept me sane over the years: Yoko iv Bando, Jochen Blumberger, Alex Brocklehurst, Matt Cheal, Emiko Danno, Aurora Gaxiola, Piero Grieco, Yutaka and Miho Iwami, Hasumi Jiro, Maki Kasahara, Motoko Kawakami, Genta Muto, Kasia Marek, Tami Nathan, Hideaki Ogawa, Kazuro Shibuya, Masato Takeuchi, Hideharu Umehara, Annamaria Vicaretti, Richard Walker, Edward and Yuko Waite, Ralph, Yuko and Justin Wilkinson, and Emma Winter.