They kill horses don't they? Well, yes, APPARENTLY they do, with a specially devised tool - a spike on one side to put the poor beast out of its misery on the battlefield, and an axe on the other side to chop its hooves off.
And if you are wondering why anyone would want such a grisly souvenir, the four hooves weren't a macabre reminder of a fallen four-legged friend, they were a practical necessity: the soldiers weren't allowed a new mount unless they could prove the old one was dead.
Today, the farrier's axe has a more ceremonial than practical application, but the new Household Cavalry Museum (HCM), which opened to the public in July, is keen to stress that although the regiments do have a royal role, they also have a job to do in modern warfare.
One of the most striking things about the new HCM is its setting. Situated slap-bang in the middle of Whitehall, just off Horse Guards, its location couldn't be more pertinent to the subject matter. The building is grade 1 listed and dates back to 1750. It was designed to house soldiers and their horses, and it is still the headquarters of the household division of the British Army.
So far so good, but don't regimental museums have a tendency to be a bit boring. And considering the location, won't it just be a first-class tourist trap?
The backdrop to an introductory video, a huge aerial photograph of Westminster, makes no bones about how very central the location is to the heart of the British monarchy, and all the dazzling polished armour at first gives the impression that this might just be a PR exercise for the regiment, with a bit of pomp and circumstance thrown in for good measure.
But the very first object, the ornate Horse Guards clock, tells a different story. It is set permanently to 4pm, the moment in 1894 when Queen Victoria caught the guards gambling and drinking and ordered a daily inspection at that hour for the next century. This well-chosen piece indicates that this regimental museum is not going to follow the traditional gongs-and-bongs narrative.
As expected, there's plenty of gleaming metal on display, as well as some very fancy uniforms. But it's not all shiny stuff: the equipment and elbow grease that's needed to make it sparkle is on display too. Brasso and chalk, brushes and boot polish and other cleaning paraphernalia are shown alongside the uniforms and photos of the cleaning ritual.
On the leather harness straps, each buckle hole has to be cleaned with a nail; the jackboots have to be soaked in hot beeswax, smothered in layers of black boot polish and then scrubbed with wire wool; the horses' hooves brushed with oil and their legs chalked white.
Precision and perseverance are the watchwords of the Household Cavalry, and these qualities are certainly needed; it takes ten hours on average to prepare for the daily inspection - that's a lot of polishing. Captain Waygood, riding master, says it's worth it: 'The kit-cleaning ritual and horse management develops self-motivation and the pressure of being watched and scrutinised on parade prepares troopers for their duties abroad.'
From here visitors can wander across the original 18th-century cobbles into the stable area where the real stars of collection reside - the horses. You literally come eye-to-eye with them - this is a working stable used daily by the Queen's Life Guard, so depending what time of day you come, you might catch the horses being groomed, fed or mucked out -and it's a real treat.
On the left the stalls are empty, so you can wander up close to saddles and bridles. And there are a couple of touchscreens where you can play the regimental dressing game and do a horsey quiz (in which there is a question about the fantastic rags-to-riches story of Cicero, the horse who pulled a milk float around the streets of Glasgow until spotted by the Queen and called up for royal duties in the 1960s).
After the stable area comes the main gallery, which tells the story of the regiment, starting with its origins in 1660. The objects, an imposing portrait of Charles II and early uniforms, are supplemented by a combination of choice quotes:
'handsome, popular, brave and dashing... a bit of a brainless libertine' describes the Duke of Monmouth, the traitor in 'our' midst - he was executed in 1685 for leading the Monmouth rebellion in an attempt to seize the throne.
The narrative is all told in the first person - a brave choice - but it lends an intimacy to the story as if it is being told by a member of the Household Cavalry. John Lange, the director, says it was a huge decision to tell the story this way, but that consultation found that people wanted to hear the cavalry telling their own story.
The narrative is loosely chronological, with the most engaging characters, the best moments in the regiment's history, and the show-stopping objects chosen.
A section on law and order explains how the Household Cavalry was used for the subjugation of protest during the 18th-century weavers' riots and to 'quell the spread of republican sentiment' - a miniature copy of the Riot Act that was carried by officers in pistol cases is on display.
Also on display are the pocket book, dictionary and cigarette case owned by Corporal Buckby during the first world war. A bullet penetrated all these items, halted only by the last few pages of the soldier's French dictionary. Buckby lived to tell the tale.
Battles, of course, are there, in particular Waterloo, and vivid quotes describe the experience. Trooper Dakin says the noise was like 'the ringing of 10,000 anvils as swords hit armour'. Objects are paramount, though sometimes idiosyncratic: the tail of the horse that Captain Kelly rode at Waterloo causes a double-take, while amply illustrating the bond between trooper and horse.
John Lange says the museum and collection, which used to be tucked away in Windsor Castle, was poorly funded and under-researched. The research has clearly now been done, and so the job is to get the visitors in. Previously, the museum attracted only 6,000 annually - the target is now 60,000. Its prime location, galloping narrative and the horses should ensure its success.
And if you are wondering why anyone would want such a grisly souvenir, the four hooves weren't a macabre reminder of a fallen four-legged friend, they were a practical necessity: the soldiers weren't allowed a new mount unless they could prove the old one was dead.
Today, the farrier's axe has a more ceremonial than practical application, but the new Household Cavalry Museum (HCM), which opened to the public in July, is keen to stress that although the regiments do have a royal role, they also have a job to do in modern warfare.
One of the most striking things about the new HCM is its setting. Situated slap-bang in the middle of Whitehall, just off Horse Guards, its location couldn't be more pertinent to the subject matter. The building is grade 1 listed and dates back to 1750. It was designed to house soldiers and their horses, and it is still the headquarters of the household division of the British Army.
So far so good, but don't regimental museums have a tendency to be a bit boring. And considering the location, won't it just be a first-class tourist trap?
The backdrop to an introductory video, a huge aerial photograph of Westminster, makes no bones about how very central the location is to the heart of the British monarchy, and all the dazzling polished armour at first gives the impression that this might just be a PR exercise for the regiment, with a bit of pomp and circumstance thrown in for good measure.
But the very first object, the ornate Horse Guards clock, tells a different story. It is set permanently to 4pm, the moment in 1894 when Queen Victoria caught the guards gambling and drinking and ordered a daily inspection at that hour for the next century. This well-chosen piece indicates that this regimental museum is not going to follow the traditional gongs-and-bongs narrative.
As expected, there's plenty of gleaming metal on display, as well as some very fancy uniforms. But it's not all shiny stuff: the equipment and elbow grease that's needed to make it sparkle is on display too. Brasso and chalk, brushes and boot polish and other cleaning paraphernalia are shown alongside the uniforms and photos of the cleaning ritual.
On the leather harness straps, each buckle hole has to be cleaned with a nail; the jackboots have to be soaked in hot beeswax, smothered in layers of black boot polish and then scrubbed with wire wool; the horses' hooves brushed with oil and their legs chalked white.
Precision and perseverance are the watchwords of the Household Cavalry, and these qualities are certainly needed; it takes ten hours on average to prepare for the daily inspection - that's a lot of polishing. Captain Waygood, riding master, says it's worth it: 'The kit-cleaning ritual and horse management develops self-motivation and the pressure of being watched and scrutinised on parade prepares troopers for their duties abroad.'
From here visitors can wander across the original 18th-century cobbles into the stable area where the real stars of collection reside - the horses. You literally come eye-to-eye with them - this is a working stable used daily by the Queen's Life Guard, so depending what time of day you come, you might catch the horses being groomed, fed or mucked out -and it's a real treat.
On the left the stalls are empty, so you can wander up close to saddles and bridles. And there are a couple of touchscreens where you can play the regimental dressing game and do a horsey quiz (in which there is a question about the fantastic rags-to-riches story of Cicero, the horse who pulled a milk float around the streets of Glasgow until spotted by the Queen and called up for royal duties in the 1960s).
After the stable area comes the main gallery, which tells the story of the regiment, starting with its origins in 1660. The objects, an imposing portrait of Charles II and early uniforms, are supplemented by a combination of choice quotes:
'handsome, popular, brave and dashing... a bit of a brainless libertine' describes the Duke of Monmouth, the traitor in 'our' midst - he was executed in 1685 for leading the Monmouth rebellion in an attempt to seize the throne.
The narrative is all told in the first person - a brave choice - but it lends an intimacy to the story as if it is being told by a member of the Household Cavalry. John Lange, the director, says it was a huge decision to tell the story this way, but that consultation found that people wanted to hear the cavalry telling their own story.
The narrative is loosely chronological, with the most engaging characters, the best moments in the regiment's history, and the show-stopping objects chosen.
A section on law and order explains how the Household Cavalry was used for the subjugation of protest during the 18th-century weavers' riots and to 'quell the spread of republican sentiment' - a miniature copy of the Riot Act that was carried by officers in pistol cases is on display.
Also on display are the pocket book, dictionary and cigarette case owned by Corporal Buckby during the first world war. A bullet penetrated all these items, halted only by the last few pages of the soldier's French dictionary. Buckby lived to tell the tale.
Battles, of course, are there, in particular Waterloo, and vivid quotes describe the experience. Trooper Dakin says the noise was like 'the ringing of 10,000 anvils as swords hit armour'. Objects are paramount, though sometimes idiosyncratic: the tail of the horse that Captain Kelly rode at Waterloo causes a double-take, while amply illustrating the bond between trooper and horse.
John Lange says the museum and collection, which used to be tucked away in Windsor Castle, was poorly funded and under-researched. The research has clearly now been done, and so the job is to get the visitors in. Previously, the museum attracted only 6,000 annually - the target is now 60,000. Its prime location, galloping narrative and the horses should ensure its success.
