hunting style of England, that if one rides a horse on any other than
an open, or indeed an all but disjointed walk, trot, or canter, he is
thought to be putting on airs, in much the same measure as if he
should dress in an unwarranted extreme of fashion upon the street. But
if we are to ape the English, why not permit on Commonwealth
Avenue--or by and by, we trust, the Park--what is daily seen in Rotten
Row? No one who has tasted it can deny the exhilarating pleasure given
you by a horse who is fresh enough to bound out of the road at any
instant, who conveys to you in every stride that glorious sense of
power which only a generous heart as well as supple muscles ever
yield, and who is yet well enough schooled to rein down to a five-mile
canter, with his haunches well under him; while, though he is burning
with eagerness to plunge into a gallop, he curbs his ambition to your
mood, and rocks you in the saddle with that gentle combination of
strength and ease to which an uneducated gait is no more to be
compared than Pierce's cider (good as it is in its place) to Mumm's
Cordon Rouge. When one is riding for the pleasure of riding, why not
use all the art which will add zest to your pleasure, rather than aim
to give the impression that you are sauntering to cover, well ahead of
time, and don't want to tire your horse, because you expect to tax him
severely during the day with the Myopia beagles across the pretty
country near Weld Farm?
A celebrated English horseman says: "The park-hack should have, with
perfection of graceful form, graceful action, an exquisite mouth, and
perfect manners." "He must be intelligent, for without intelligence
even with fine form and action he can never be pleasant to ride." "The
head should be of the finest Oriental type; the neck well arched, but
not too long." "The head should be carried in its right place, the
neck gracefully arched. From the walk he should be able to bound into
any pace, in perfectly balanced action, that the rider may require."
And yet such a horse, though esteemed a prize in Rotten Row, would be
all but tabooed on the streets of Boston, because he is not the type
of a fine performer to hounds.
XXIV.
There are so many manuals of the equestrian art from which any
aspiring and patient student of equitation may derive the information
requisite to become an expert horseman, that beyond a few hints for
the benefit of those who, like you, Tom, know nothing and want to
learn a little about the niceties of horseback work, it would be
presumptuous to go. If a man desires to learn how to train a horse
thoroughly, he must go back to Baucher, or to some of Baucher's
pupils. All the larger works which cover training contain the elements
of the Baucher system. The recent work of Colonel E. L. Anderson, late
of General George H. Thomas' staff, written in England and published
by David Douglas of Edinburgh, is a most excellent work.
I have found as a rule that abstruse written explanations are very
difficult to understand. In a recent excellent book on riding-school
training (not School-riding mind you), though I know perfectly well
what the riding-school volte and demi-volte are, as well as the
School-volte and demi-volte, simple and reversed, I have read certain
paragraphs dozens of times, without being able to make the words mean
what the movement really is. Colonel Anderson's book is very clear,
though it goes fully into the refinements of the art, except the
quasi-circus tricks and airs, and from it, with time and patience, a
man can make himself an accomplished rider and his steed equal to any
work--outside the sawdust ring.
But you, Tom, do not aspire to go so far in the training of Penelope.
XXV.
You must not suppose that a man who teaches his horse all the airs of
the Haute Ecole constantly uses them, any more than an eminent divine
is always in the act of preaching, or a _prima donna assoluta_ is
at all times warbling or practicing chromatic scales, when each ought
to be engaged in the necessary but prosaic details of life. The best
results of School-training lie in the ability of the horse and rider
to do plain and simple work in the best manner. Because a horse can
traverse or perform the Spanish trot, his rider need not necessarily
make him traverse or passage past the window of his inamorata, while
he himself salutes her with the air of a grandee of Aragon. For this
would no doubt be bad style for a modern horseman in front of a Beacon
Street mansion; though truly it might be eminently proper, as well as
an interesting display of horsemanship, for the same rider to traverse
past his commanding general while saluting at a review on Boston
Common. Nor because a horse can perform the reversed pirouette with
perfect exactness will a School-rider stop in the middle of a park
road and parade the accomplishment. But this same reversed pirouette
is for all that the foundation of everything that a well-trained horse
should be able to do, and if he knows it, he is ready to make use of
it at all times for the greater ease, safety, and pleasure of his
master.
[Illustration: PLATE VIII.
FLYING A HURDLE.]
You may ask of what use it can ever be. Suppose you were riding with a
lady, on her left,--which is the safe and proper, if not the
fashionable side,--and her saddle should begin to turn, say toward
you, as it is most apt to do. If your horse minds the indication of
your leg, you can keep him so close to your companion's as to afford
her suitable assistance, even to the extent of bodily lifting her
clear of her saddle. If your horse is only half trained, you cannot,
perhaps, bring him to the position where you want him in season to be
of any service at all. Have you never seen a man who was trying to
open a gate at which a score of impatient, not to say objurgatory,
riders were waiting, while the field was disappearing over the hills
and far away, and who could neither get at it nor out of the way,
because his crack hunter didn't know what the pressure of his master's
legs meant, and fought shy of the gate, while keeping others from
coming near it? Have you never stood watching a race at the Country
Club, with a rider beside you whose horse took up five times the space
he was entitled to, because he could not be made to move sidewise? Has
not every one seen occasions when even a little training would have
been a boon both to himself and his neighbors?
Talking of opening gates, one of the best bits of practice is to
unlock, open, and ride through a common door and close and lock it
after you without dismounting. Let it be a door opening towards you.
If your horse will quickly get into and stand steady in the positions
necessary to enable you to lean over and do all this handily at any
door, gates will cease to have any terrors for you.
Nor must you suppose that every schooled horse is of necessity kept in
his most skilled form at all times. As few college graduates of twenty
years' standing can construe an ode of Horace, though indeed they may
understand the purport and read between the lines as they could not
under the shadow of the elms of Alma Mater, so Patroclus, for
instance, is by no means as clever in the intricate steps of his
School performances as he was when fresh from his education. But the
result is there; and for all the purposes of actual use in the saddle,
the training he has had at all times bears its fruit.
After this weary exordium of theory, Tom, for which my apologies, let
us turn to a bit of practice.
XXVI.
And first about the horse himself. If you buy one, do so under such
advice as to get soundness, intelligence, courage, and good temper.
Our American horses, unless spoiled, generally have all these in
sufficient measure, and can be made everything of. You have been
exceptionally fortunate in your purchase of Penelope. She is light
gaited, not long and logy in her movements, and carries her own head.
She has remarkable good looks, an inestimable quality after you get
performance; but beware of the May-bird which has good looks alone.
She is fifteen three, nearly as high at the rump, and with tail set on
right there, fine-bred, but with barrel enough to weigh about a
thousand and twenty pounds. She looks like a thoroughbred hunter, Tom,
every inch of her. This is a good height and weight for you, who ride
pretty heavy for a youngster, and are apt soon to run up to "twel'
stun eight."
You say Penelope is six years old. From five to eight is the best age,
the nearer five the better. An old horse does not supple so readily.
And she was well broken to harness? A good harness training is no harm
to any horse, nor occasional use in light harness, whatever pride one
may take in a horse which has never looked through a collar. In fact,
many hunters in the Old Country are purposely used as tandem, or
four-in-hand leaders during the summer, to give them light work, and
bring them towards the season in firmer condition than if they had run
at large and eaten their heads off. It is only the pulling or holding
back of heavy weights which injures saddle gaits, and this because a
saddle beast should be taught to keep his hind legs well under him,
and remain in an elastic equilibrium; and dragging a load brings about
the habit of extending the legs too much to the rear, while holding
back gives a habit of sprawling and stiffening which is sadly at
variance with a "collected" action.
XXVII.
You ask about dress. Wear anything which is usual among riders. Enamel
boots as now worn are convenient to the constant rider, as the mud
does not injure them as it does cloth, and water at once cleanses
them. But plain dark trousers, cut a mere trifle longer than you wear
them on the street, and strapped under the feet, are excellent to ride
in. If cut just right they are the neatest of all gear for park riding
in good weather. The simpler your dress the better. Gentlemen to-day
dress in boots when riding with ladies, and fashion, of course,
justifies their use now as it did fifty years ago. But within half
that term, in England, a man who would ride in boots with a pretty
horsebreaker considered trousers _de rigeur_, if he was going to
the Park with his wife or daughters.
To saddle and bridle your horse, you must know your own needs and his
disposition and mouth. But the English saddle and a bit and bridoon
bridle, such as you have, are the simplest, and meet most wants,
providing they fit the back and mouth.
We do not have to suit such varying tempers and mouths in this country
as they do abroad. Our horses are singularly tractable. It is rather a
stunning thing to be mounted on the fashionable type of horse who
"won't stand a curb, you know,"--and there are some such,--but, as a
fact, ninety-nine American horses out of one hundred will work well in
a port and bridoon bridle properly adjusted.
Always buy good things. Cheap ones are dear at any price. Your saddle
should fit so that when you are in it you can thrust your riding-whip
under the pommel and to the cantle along the horse's backbone;
otherwise you may get sore withers. The bits should hang in the mouth
just above where a horse's tush grows. Penelope's sex, you see, Tom,
precludes her having any.
XXVIII.
When you bought Penelope, she knew nothing of saddle work, and I told
you to ride her a few times on a walk or a trot, anywhere and anyhow,
so as to get used to her, and her used to you, before you began to
teach her anything. She had presumably always been ridden to and from
the blacksmith's shop, and worked kindly under saddle. You have got
good legs, Tom, and any man with average legs can keep his seat after
a fashion on a decently behaved horse. You were afraid you could not
sit Penelope when you first bought her, and had not ridden for so long
that you felt strange in the saddle. So I advised you to hire an old
plug for a few rides until you were sure you would feel at home when
you mounted her, meanwhile exercising her in harness. The better part
of valor will always be discretion, now as in Falstaff's time, while
the best of horses will get a bit nervous if kept long in a half-dark
stable. Regular exercise is as essential to a horse as oil is to an
engine, if either is to work smoothly.
You ask me the proper way to mount. Let us stop while you dismount,
and I will show you the usual way. It is simple work. Stand opposite
Nelly's near shoulder, a foot or so away from her, and facing towards
the cantle of your saddle. Gather up your snaffle reins just tight
enough to feel, but not pull on her mouth, and seize a part of her
mane with your left hand. Insert your toe in the stirrup, just as it
hangs, using your right hand if necessary. Then seize the cantle of
the saddle with your right hand, and springing from your right foot,
without touching the horse's flank with your left toe, raise yourself
into the stirrup, pause a moment, and then throw the leg across the
horse, moving your right hand away in season. If you were shorter, you
might have to spring from your foot before you could touch the cantle.
As in everything else, there are other and perhaps better ways to
mount, and pages can be written upon the niceties of each method. But
the above suffices for the nonce. You can choose your own fashion when
you have tried them all.
An active youngster, like yourself, should be able to vault into the
saddle without putting the left foot into the stirrup at all. In all
Continental gymnasiums, this is one of the usual exercises, on a
horse-block with imitation saddle, and is an excellent practice. By
all means learn it.
XXIX.
You do not seem to hold your reins handily, Tom. Of all the methods of
holding reins I prefer the old cross-country way of a generation back,
still recommended, I was pleased to see, in the very excellent article
"Horse" of the edition of the "Cyclopaedia Britannica" now publishing,
and I fancy yet much in vogue.
The School method is different; but the School requires that the curb
and snaffle shall be used for different indications or "aids" to
convey the rider's meaning to the horse, and not at the same time. In
ordinary saddle work it is generally convenient to employ the reins
together. Gather your reins up with me. The near curb outside little
finger, near snaffle between little and third fingers, off snaffle
between third and middle, off curb between middle and index, all four
gathered flat above index and held in place by thumb, knuckles up. Or
easier, take up your snaffle by the buckle and pass the third finger
of left hand between its reins; then take up the curb and pass the
little, third, and middle fingers between its reins. The snaffle
reins, you see, are thus inside the curb reins, each is easily reached
and distinguished and you can shift hold from left hand to right, or
_vice versa_, more readily than in any other way, by merely placing
one hand, with fingers spread to grasp the reins, in front of the
other. By having the loop of each rein hanging separate so that the
free hand can seize it quickly, either can be shortened or lengthened
at will, or they may be so together. Moreover, this hold affords the
easiest method of changing from one to both hands and back.
For if you insert your right little finger between the off reins, and
your third finger inside the snaffle rein, and draw the off reins from
your left hand slightly, you have a very handy means of using both
hands, with the additional value that you can either drop the right
reins by easing the length of the left ones to equalize the pressure
on the horse's mouth; or by grasping the left reins with right middle
finger over snaffle and first finger over curb, you can shift to the
right hand entirely. When in this position you can again use the left
hand by inserting its fingers in front of the right one and closing
upon the reins, as already indicated. In fact, without lengthening the
near reins, but merely by placing the right hand in any convenient way
on the off ones, you may be ready to use both hands in entirely proper
fashion. And in this day of two-handed riding, it is advisable to be
able to follow the fashion quickly.
For School airs, this also affords an easy way of using separately
curb and snaffle, as is often necessary.
If you are riding with single reins, you will place them on either
side of third or little finger, or embracing little, third, and middle
fingers and up under thumb in similar manner. A single rein may be
held in many ways.
With all other double-rein methods, except the one described, you have
to alter the position of reins in shifting from hand to hand. With
this one the order of reins and fingers remains the same.
Any other system of holding the reins which you prefer will do as
well, if you become expert at it. I have tried them all, from
Baucher's down, and have always reverted to what was shown me thirty
odd years ago.
Your curb chain should be looser than it is, Tom. A horse needing a
stiff curb is unsuited to any but an expert rider, and must have a
great many splendid qualities to make up for this really bad one. Some
people like a mouth they can hold on by, but they do not make fine
horsemen. Never ride on your horse's mouth, or, as they say, "ride
your bridle." Many men like a hunter who "takes hold of you," but this
won't do on the road, if you seek comfort or want a drilled horse. You
see that Nelly keeps jerking at the curb. Let out a link, at least. An
untrained horse seeks relief from the curb by poking out his nose, the
trained one by giving way to it and arching his neck. It is better at
first only to ride on your snaffle rein, leaving your curb rein
reasonably loose; or else you may use only a snaffle bit and single
rein for a while. But unless you very early learn that your reins are
to afford no support whatever to your seat, you will never be apt to
learn it. Don't use a martingale unless your horse is a star-gazer, or
else tosses his head so as to be able to strike you. It tends to make
you lean upon the rein and confines your horse's head.
XXX.
You have now been out a half-dozen times with your new purchase, Tom,
and you have managed to get along much to your own satisfaction. You
have neither slipped off, nor has Penelope misbehaved. But you are
intelligent enough to see that there is something beyond this for you
and her to learn. I do not know how ambitious you are. If you want to
make Nelly's forehand and croup so supple that you can train her into
the finest gaits and action, you must go to work on the stable floor
with an hour a day at least of patient teaching, for a number of
weeks. For this purpose you must have a manual of instruction, such as
I have shown you, and quite a little stock of leisure and particularly
of good temper.
The ordinary English trainer thinks that a good mouth may be made in
two weeks, by strapping a colt's reins to his surcingle for an hour or
two daily, and by longeing with a cavesson. But excellent as cavesson
work may be, this means alone will by no means produce the quality of
mouth which the Baucher method will make, or which you should aim to
give to Nelly.
Still I know that you have but limited time, Tom, and that you want
your daily ride to educate both yourself and your mare. This can be
accomplished after a fashion; but it is only what the primary school
is to the university,--good, as far as it goes. The trouble with
beginning to supple a horse's neck when in motion is that you ask him
to start doing two things at once, that is, move forward at command
and obey your reins, and he will be apt to be somewhat confused. He
will not as readily understand what you want him to do, as if standing
quiet and undisturbed.
With plenty of courage, Tom, Penelope seems to have a very gentle
disposition. Almost all of our American horses have. They are not as
apt to be spoiled in the breaking-in as they are abroad. And I fancy
she is intelligent. You should have no difficulty in training her, and
in teaching her a habit of obedience which she will never forget.
It is all but an axiom that an unspoiled horse will surely do what he
knows you want him to do, unless he is afraid to do it, or unless, as
is generally the case, you yourself are at fault. The difficulty lies
in making him understand you. Remember this, and keep your patience
always. If a horse is roguish, as he often will be, it is only a
moment's play, and he will at once get over it, unless you make it
worse by unnecessary fault-finding. I generally laugh at a horse
instead of scolding him. He understands the tone if not the words, and
it turns aside the occasion for a fight or for punishment.
Never invite a fight with a horse. Avoid it whenever you can
accomplish your end by other means. Never decline it when it must
come. But either win the fight or reckon on having a spoiled horse on
your hands, who will never thoroughly obey you.
And remember that a horse who obeys from fear is never as tractable,
safe, or pleasant as one who has been taught by gentle means, and with
whom the habit of obeying goes hand in hand with love for his master
and pleasure in serving him. I do not refer to those creatures which
have already been made equine brutes by the stupidity or cruelty of
human brutes. One of these may occasionally need more peremptory
treatment, but under proper tuition even such an one needs it rarely.
[Illustration: PLATE IX.
CLEAN ABOVE IT.]
XXXI.
Let us have a trot, and see how Penelope moves, and how you sit. You,
Tom, will take your pace from me. There is nothing more unhorsemanlike
and annoying than for a rider to keep half a horse's length in front
of his companion. Your stirrup should be even with mine. A gentleman
can be a foot or two in front of a lady, for safety and convenience,
but men should ride as they would walk, all but arm in arm. Now you
can see the effects of education. Penelope insists on trotting a
twelve-mile gait, and no wonder, for she has such fine, open action,
that a sharp gait is less effort to her than a slow one. On the
contrary, I, who, as the senior, have the right to give the pace, am
satisfied with two-thirds that speed; and Patroclus, who, as you well
know, can easily out-trot, or, I fancy, out-run your mare, and would
dearly like to try it, yields himself to my mood without an ounce of
pull or friction. Look at his reins. They are quite loose. Now look at
yours. Nelly is pulling and fretting for all she is worth, while you
are working your passage. Two miles like that will take three out of
her and five out of you. She will fume herself into a lather soon,
while Pat will not have turned a hair. She certainly is a candidate
for training. You appear to need all the strength of your arms to pull
her down to a walk, whereas a simple turn of the wrist, or a
low-spoken word, should suffice.
By the way, always indulge in the habit of talking to your horse. You
have no idea of how much he will understand. And if he is in the habit
of listening for your words, and of paying heed to what you say, he
will be vastly more obedient as well as companionable. Patroclus and I
often settle very knotty questions on the road. We think we helped
elect Cleveland. And I must confess that occasionally a passer-by
fancies that I am talking to myself, whereas, if he but knew the
meaning of Patroclus' lively ears, he would see what a capital comrade
I have, and one, moreover, who, like one's favorite book, is never
impertinent enough to answer back, or flout you with excessive wisdom.
It is certainly a very pleasant study to see how many words or phrases
a horse can learn the meaning of, and act intelligently when he hears
them.
XXXII.
What, then, shall you do first in the way of education? Well, let us
see. As Nelly has been broken to harness, she can probably only walk
and trot. You, yourself, seem to stick fairly well to the saddle. But
how about your own position? Your leathers are a trifle long. They
should be of just such length that, when you are in the middle of the
saddle, on your seat, not your crotch, with the ball of your foot in
the stirrups, your feet are almost parallel with the ground, the heel
a trifle lower than the toes. Your toes are below your heels, you see.
You should be able to get your heels well down when you settle into
your saddle. The old rule of having the stirrups just touch the
ankle-bone when the foot is hanging is not a bad one. The arm measure
is unreliable, and physical conformation, as well as different backed
horses, often require, even in a sound man, odd lengths of leathers.
You should not attempt to ride with your feet "home" until you can
keep your stirrup under the ball of your foot without losing it,
whatever your horse may do; and when you do ride "home," you should
occasionally change back to the ball of your foot, so as to keep in
practice. Moreover, you can train a horse much more easily, riding
with only the ball of the foot in the stirrup, for you can use your
legs to better advantage. My disability obliges me to ride "home" at
all times, and I have always found it much more difficult to teach a
horse the right leg indications than the left. I have to employ my
whip not infrequently, in lieu of my leg. Your stirrup should be
larger and heavier, for safety. I don't like your fine, small
stirrups; and your saddle should have spring bars, which you should
always keep from rusting out of good working order. They have saved
many a man's collar-bone.