For, as he justly pointed out, so long as the attention of the principal body of the nobility and of the wealthy landed proprietors was centred upon the breeding almost wholly of light and swift horses, it was not possible to suppose that time would be found to attend also to the breeding and rearing of the powerful animals that alone were fit to carry men-at-arms. Upon hearing this, Charles declared, no doubt in all good faith, that he would take steps to revive the flagging interest in the production of good war horses, but in the end nothing practical was done. That the king himself took interest in the great horse we are led to infer from the fact that upon the big seal he is shown riding astride one. In Vandyck's portrait of Oliver Cromwell we see Cromwell riding rather a light-coloured great horse, a point worthy of note inasmuch as we know that from about that time onward the term “great” horse was almost always taken to mean a _black_ horse of this particular stamp. [Illustration: OLIVER CROMWELL ON HORSEBACK _After Van Dyck_] Oliver Cromwell's world-renowned Ironsides were not, of course, mounted on great horses. On the contrary, though the Ironsides proved themselves to be by far the most powerful cavalry seen in England down to that time, their strength was due not to their weight, but to their remarkable mobility. The dismay the Ironsides spread amongst the foe is said to have astonished the cavaliers themselves as much as it surprised the enemy. For it must be borne in mind that the Ironsides did not wear armour. Instead they were protected merely by light buff coats, so that naturally they were able to ride far lighter and consequently more active, horses. Probably it was the good work done by Cromwell's cavalry that marked the turning-point in the life of the old _régime_ by driving out of the field not only the great horses that until then had been deemed wholly indispensable, but also by sounding the death-knell of armour that for two centuries had been growing steadily heavier and more ponderous. For many years, however, a body of the English military authorities metaphorically clung doggedly to the clumsy horses to which they had so long been accustomed, and to the clumsy armour as well, declaring—as some of their successors do to-day—that the innovation of a mobile force must soon prove unsatisfactory and ultimately be disbanded. Instead, exactly the reverse happened. By slow degrees the armour was discarded, while the great horses, as we are told, were relegated to the coach, the waggon and the plough.