Nature & Animals Quote by William Cavendish

Cavendish is doing that very 17th-century thing: turning a physical skill into a quiet claim about order. On the surface, the line is technical horsemanship - if a horse is truly “upon his haunches,” he will “necessarily” be “light in hand.” But the sentence is built like a decree, not a tip. “Is it impossible but he must be” doesn’t just describe a biomechanical result; it shuts down disagreement. Cavendish writes like a man used to command: if the premise is correct, the conclusion is compulsory.

The specific intent is to define correct collection as a self-evident standard. “Light in hand” isn’t merely softness on the reins; it’s proof that the rider’s training has worked at a deeper level. The subtext is that real control doesn’t look like control. The rider doesn’t haul; the horse carries himself. That’s a philosophy of power dressed up as a riding lesson: authority should feel effortless, almost invisible, because the subject has been arranged to do the work from within.

Context matters. Cavendish, a courtly public servant steeped in aristocratic culture, is writing in a world where elite riding was a marker of status and governance, not leisure. Manege ideals mirrored political ideals: discipline without strain, hierarchy without mess. The horse’s “necessity” becomes a metaphor for the naturalness of a properly trained system. If it’s done right, resistance disappears - not because force won, but because the body (or body politic) has been taught to comply.