2. That it is exceedingly difficult to ride one that has been petted,
patted, bitted, lounged, but not mounted.
3. That it must be almost impossible to mount and ride a wild horse
just caught, that has never been touched by a human hand.
We will, however, humbly venture to assert that, in certain instances,
the three steps of this little ladder might be reversed.
1. In a state of nature the horse is such a zealous advocate of our
popular principle of "self-government," he is so desirous to maintain
his "independence," that although he will allow almost any quadruped,
even wolves and lions, to approach within a certain distance, yet the
moment he sees a man, though on horseback, he instinctively turns his
tail towards him, and, when followed, gallops away.
If, consequently, by the triumph of reason over instinct he be caught,
or rather by the lasso tumbled head over heels, saddled, and if all
of a sudden, to his vast astonishment, he finds sitting astride his
back, with a cigar in his mouth, the very human being he has always
been avoiding, his first and almost only feeling is that of _fear_; and
accordingly, if he be retained by the bridle, instantaneously, by a
series of jumps on all four legs, he makes impromptu his first hurried,
untaught, unpractised effort to dislocate a rider. But if, instead of
being as it were invited to perform these unsophisticated antics, he be
allowed, or rather, by whip and severe spurs, be propelled to do what
he most ardently desires, namely, run away, his power of resistance
is over, and his subjection inevitable. For at the top of his speed,
just as when swimming, a horse can neither rear, kick, nor plunge,
and therefore at his best pace he proceeds on his sure road to ruin,
until not only all his wind is pumped out of him, but after that,
until twisted hide-thong and sharp iron have converted his terror of
man into an ardent desire to be obedient to his will. In fact, like a
small nation that has unsuccessfully been contending against a great
one, he wishes to put an end to the horrors of war, and to sue for the
blessings of peace.
2. If a domestic horse that has been handled, fondled, but never
ridden, be suddenly saddled and mounted, the rider has greater
difficulties to encounter than those just described: for the animal is
not only gifted by nature with all the propensities of the wild horse
to reject man, but, from being better fed, he has greater strength to
indulge in them; besides which he enjoys the immense advantage of being
in a civilized, or, in plainer terms, an enclosed country. Accordingly,
instead of being forced to run away, his rider is particularly afraid
lest he should do so, simply because he knows that the remedy which
would cure the wild horse, would probably kill _him_. In fact, the
difference to the rider between an open and an enclosed field of battle
is exactly that which a naval officer feels in scudding in a gale of
wind out of sight of land, and in being caught among sandbanks and
rocks in a narrow channel.
3. Of all descriptions of horses, wild and tame, by far the most
difficult to ride is that young British thorough-bred colt of two or
three years old that has been regularly "broken in" _by himself_,
without giving the slightest warning, to jump away sideways, spin
round, and at the same moment kick off his rider. The feat is a
beautiful and well-arranged combination of nature and of art. Like
the pugilistic champion of England--Tom Sayers--he is a professional
performer, gifted with so much strength and activity, and skilful in
so many quick, artful tricks and dodges, that any country practitioner
who comes to deal with him is no sooner up than down, to rise from his
mother earth with a vague, bewildered, incoherent idea as to what had
befallen him, or "how he got there."
If a horse of this description and a wild one were to be mounted
simultaneously, each by an equally good rider, in an unenclosed,
uncultivated region, both the quadrupeds probably at the same moment
would be seen to run away: the Briton for ever, to gain his liberty;
the other quadruped, just as surely, to lose it!
Having now sufficiently discussed the character and conduct of the
horse, we will presume to offer, or rather to bequeath to our readers,
a very few observations as regards his rider.
+Seat on a Horse.+
The best position of a man on horseback is, of course, that which
is most agreeable to both animals, and which, from its ease and
flexibility, as they skim together over the surface of the earth,
apparently combines them into one.
Like everything in Nature, the variety of seats is infinite. They may,
however, generically be divided into two classes:
1. In the great plains of South America, in which it may truly
be stated that for every male inhabitant above five or six years
of age Nature maintains at no cost, no tax, and at no trouble to
him, a stud of horses whose number is legion, the rider sits almost
perpendicularly, with the great toe of each foot resting very lightly
on, and often merely touching its small triangular stirrup, his legs
grasping the horse's sides slightly or tightly, as prosperous or
adverse circumstances may require.
In this attitude, which may be said to be that of standing astride over
rather than sitting upon the saddle, the pivot upon which the rider,
gracefully bending his body with a ball and socket movement, turns--in
throwing his lasso, in thrusting his lance forwards on either side, or
in looking behind him--is what is termed by sporting men his "fork."
In the few instances where pistols are carried, they are affixed
_behind_ the right thigh, firstly, that in the common occurrence of
the horse falling in his gallop, they may not prevent the rider from
rolling clear away from him; and, secondly, because in that position
the weapons are close to the rider's right hand, which, as he flies
along, is to be seen always dangling just above the but ends, ready to
grasp them the instant they are required.
This attitude is not only highly picturesque, but particularly easy to
the rider, who, while partaking of the undulating motion of his horse,
can rest his wearied body by slight imperceptible changes of position
on the pivot or "fork," on which, like corn waving in the wind, it
bends.
The British cavalry sit astride above their saddles very nearly in this
attitude, which, as we have just explained, enables them with great
facility to cut, or give point in front, right or left, at cavalry
or at infantry; and if they were not embarrassed by their clothing,
as well as by their accoutrements, and if, as in the region to which
we have alluded, they were to use no pace but the gallop, each would
soon become, or rather he could not help apparently becoming, part
and parcel of his horse. But our gallant men, although they have been
subjected to innumerable experimental changes of dress, &c., continue
not only hampered and imperilled by a hard cloak, holsters, and carbine
affixed in _front_ of their thighs, and imprisoned, especially round
their necks, within tight clothing, but their travelling pace, the
trot (a jolting movement unknown and unheard of in the plains of South
America), gives to their body and limbs a rigidity painful to look at,
and in long journeys wearisome to man and horse. Indeed in the French
cavalry, and occasionally in our own, the manner in which the soldier,
in not a bad attitude, is seen hopping high into the air, on and off
his saddle, as his horse, at apparently a different rate, trots beneath
him, forms as ridiculous a caricature of _the art of riding_ as the
pencil of our Punch's "Leech" could possibly delineate.
2. Throughout the United Kingdom, civilians of all classes, gentlemen,
farmers, and yeomen, especially those who occasionally follow the
hounds, adopt what is commonly called "the hunting seat," in which,
instead of "the fork," the _knees_ form the pivot, or rather hinge, the
legs beneath them the grasp, while the thighs, like the pastern of a
horse, enable the body above to rise and fall as lightly as a carriage
on its springs.
In this attitude the rider cannot turn his body to the right or left,
or look behind him as easily as he could revolve upon his "fork."
For rough riding, however, of every description, the hunting seat,
though infinitely less graceful, is superior to that of the cavalry of
Europe, for the following reasons:--
One of the most usual devices by which a horse endeavours to, and but
too often succeeds in dislodging his rider, is by giving to his back,
by a sudden kick, a jerk upwards, which, of course, forces in the same
direction towards the sky that nameless portion of humanity which was
partly resting on it, and which in the cavalry cannot possibly get very
far away from it.
But, in the hunting seat, the instant the rider expects such a kick, by
merely rising in his stirrups he at once raises or abstracts from the
saddle the point his enemy intends to attack, and accordingly the blow
aimed at it fails to reach it.
Again, on approaching a large fence, by the same simple precaution,
the rider entirely avoids the concussion of that sudden jerk or effort
necessary to enable the horse to clear it. In a fall, the pommel of
the saddle and the horse's neck and head are much easier cleared by
short stirrup-leathers than by long ones. Lastly, in a common trot, the
former soften the jolt, which the latter cannot easily avoid. In short,
in a hunting seat, the rider, to his great comfort and relief, rests
more or less on his saddle as long as he likes, and yet, the instant he
anticipates a blow from it, leaves it, without metaphor ... behind him.
Of horsemanship it may truly be said, that about four-fifths of the
art depend on attaining a _just_ seat, and one-fifth on possessing a
pair of light hands.[B] But although the attainment of these advantages
is not incompatible with an easy, erect position on horseback, the
generality of riders are but too apt to sit on their horses in the bent
attitude of the last paroxysm or exertion which helped them into the
saddle. Now, when a man in this toad-like position rides along--say a
macadamized road--he travels always ready, at a moment's notice, to
proceed by himself in the direction in which he is pointing, in case
the progress of his horse should be suddenly stopped by his falling
down. Indeed, when a horse, without falling down, recovers by a violent
struggle from a bad trip, a heavy rider in this attitude (called by Sir
Bellingham Graham "a wash-ball seat") is very liable to shoot forwards
over his head in a parabolic curve, ending in a concussion of his
brain or in the dislocation of his neck,--the horse standing by his
motionless body perfectly uninjured.
On the other hand, when a man sits upright, justly balanced on his
saddle, any sudden jerk or movement forwards throws his shoulders
backwards. If therefore, while proceeding in that position, the horse
thinks proper to fall, the animal in the first instance is the sole
sufferer. He cuts his forehead, hurts his nose, breaks his knees,
bruises his chest, while his head, neck, fore-legs, and the forepart
of his body, forced into each other like the joints of a telescope,
form a buffer, preventing the concussion the horse has received, from
injuring, in the smallest degree, the rider, or even the watch in his
pocket, which, without being ejected from the saddle, goes ticking,
ticking, ticking on, just as merrily as if nothing had happened. If he
only trips, a rider poised justly in his saddle can easily recover him.
A horse will not only refrain from treading upon any creature lying on
the ground, but in hunting he will make the utmost possible effort to
avoid putting a foot upon his master whenever
"On the bare earth exposed he lies."
If, however, his owner, from a bad seat or from false precaution, has
suddenly thrown himself from his back, it is often impossible for the
animal, while struggling to recover from a desperate trip, to avoid
either trampling upon or violently striking him.
For this reason a rider should never abandon his saddle so long as his
horse beneath it has a leg, or an infinitesimal part of one, to stand
on. But so soon as his downfall is announced by that heavy, thundering
concussion against the ground, the meaning of which it is impossible
to mistake, the partnership should instantaneously be dissolved by the
horseman rolling, if possible, out of harm's way.
But it occasionally happens not only that the horse rolls too, but that
the larger roller overtakes the smaller one, the two lying prostrate,
with the legs in boots under the body whose limbs wear only shoes.
If the rider happens fortunately to have the saddle between him and
the horse, his legs merely sustain a heavy weight, from which they are
harmlessly extricated the instant the animal rises.
Should he happen _un_fortunately to have the girths between him and the
horse, he lies, like Ariel in the cloven pine, "painfully imprisoned,"
in a predicament of which it is impossible for any one to foretell the
results.
As the quadruped is always more or less cowed by his fall, he remains
usually for about a minute or two as still as if he were dead.
All of a sudden, however, just as if a bayonet had been run into him,
he struggles to rise.
To do so it is necessary that all his feet should take hold of the
ground. This they are prevented from doing by the rider's boots, which,
operating as a handspike under the body, keep it in a horizontal
position, thereby causing the four legs, like two pairs of blacksmith's
sledge-hammers, to continue to strike heavily towards each other.
Between them lies, acting in this little tragedy the part of Anvil, the
poor rider, who can only avoid the hard blows of two fore iron shoes,
by wincing from them to within the reach of two hind ones.
This violent struggle eventually ends by the horse rising, leaving on
the field of battle, slightly, seriously, or desperately wounded, his
master, whom he never intended to hurt.
In the hunting field, the bent position in the saddle produces equally
unpleasant results. On man and horse coming cheerily to a fence, with
what mathematicians call "an unknown quantity" on the other side, if
the rider sits justly on his saddle, it is the horse and not he that
receives the concussion of any fall that may ensue, simply because
the spring of his animal in taking the leap had thrown his shoulders
backwards, and consequently his head out of danger; whereas the nose of
the gentleman who had been riding alongside of him in the bent attitude
of a note of interrogation, is seen to plough into its mother earth the
instant the muzzle of his horse impinges upon it.
For exactly the same reasons, in every description of fall (and no
volume would be large enough to contain them all), similar results
occur; and yet there is no predicament in which "Toady" appears to
greater disadvantage, and so keenly feels it, than when, in following
the hounds, he has to descend a very precipitous and rather slippery
grass hill.
If a horse be but properly dealt with, he can gallop down a turf hill
with nearly as much rapidity as along a race-course. A tea-table
would stand ill at ease on the declivity, because its limbs are
immoveable; but a quadruped, by throwing all his legs forwards and his
body backwards, has the power to adjust himself, with mathematical
precision, to almost any descent.
To insure his safety, however, it is essential that he should be
encouraged, by a loose rein, to carry his head as low as possible,
to enable him to take care of his feet, and in case of treading on a
rolling-stone to recover his balance by throwing it up. Now, when in
this position, if the rider, following the instinct and the example of
the horse, throws his weight backwards--in fact, if from the saddle the
backs of the two animals are separated from each other by only a very
small angle, both can descend the hill together at considerable speed
without the smallest danger. The only embarrassment the rider has to
contend against is an over-caution on the part of the horse, amounting
to fear, which induces him to try to take the slope diagonally, very
likely to result in the poor animal slipping up on his side. In keeping
his head straight, however, care must be taken not to induce him to
raise it _up_; and when this little difficulty is overcome, no other of
any sort or kind remains to impede a safe and rapid descent.
Seated on his saddle, in the attitude we have described, that admirable
rider Jack Shirley, whipper-in to the Tedworth hunt, with a large open
clasp-knife in his mouth, was one day observed fixing a piece of
whipcord to his lash, while following his hounds at a slapping pace,
down hill, his reins lying nearly loose on old "Gadsby's" neck.
On the other hand when a gentleman, however fearless he may be, sitting
at an angle of 45°, like a 13-inch mortar on its bed, attempts to
ride down the steep declivity described, the afflictions that befall
him are really piteous, for the instant his horse's fore legs sink
considerably lower than the hind ones, he feels that unless he holds
on very tightly, he must inevitably pitch over the bows of the vessel
that is carrying him. To maintain his equilibrium he therefore pulls
a little at his curb-bit, which not only raises his horse's head till
it nearly touches his nose, but throws the animal and the weight he
carries into such a false position, that it becomes difficult and
dangerous to advance. The restrained quadruped, impatient to follow the
horses before him, yet altogether out of gear, on every little twitch
at his bridle keeps chucking up his head, until the rider, who a moment
ago expected to fall over his ears, now feels that he is going to glide
backwards over his tail, which is nearly touching the hill. In short,
the poor horse is resting on his hocks instead of his hoofs, with his
fore feet barely touching the ground.
When a lot of riders find themselves in this hopeless attitude, they
generally, according to their amount of activity, crawl, jump, or
vault from their saddles to descend on foot, which they soon find very
little improves their case, for the heels of their boots not being,
like horse-shoes, concave, take insufficient hold of the turf; and
thus while they are slipping, sliding, and tottering in the descent,
each linked to a quadruped that is bothering him to death, if, feeling
a little alarmed, they resolve to stop for a moment or two, their
impatient horses, unable to advance and unwilling to stand still, often
compromise the matter by running round their masters, with the chance
of rolling them, like ninepins, down the hill.
In galloping for many hours, and especially for many days, as soon as
the muscles of the rider, by getting tired, lose their obstinacy, it
becomes impossible for him, if he sits upright, to prevent his body
undulating, to the infinite relief of both parties, with every movement
of the horse; whereas, if, like an English jockey, whose seat is well
adapted for galloping at the utmost speed for a few minutes, he rides
like a frog on a shovel, he inflicts upon his whole frame, as well as
upon the poor animal that carries him, an amount of unnecessary fatigue
which prematurely tires both.
For the foregoing reasons if gentlemen sportsmen who occupy on the
road and the hunting-field this false position, would but allow Mr.
Calcraft, in his peculiar way, to lift them about half a dozen times
a few inches into the air, and then, as a tallow-chandler dips his
candles, lower them gently, easily, and perpendicularly to their
saddles, they would find themselves promoted in the world to a seat on
horseback which they would never wish to abandon.
As, however, our readers, we fear, must have become very tired of the
saddle, we will now relieve them from hogskin, to submit to them a
very few practical observations on the management of the bridle, the
ordinary uses of which, as everybody knows, are twofold, namely, first
to guide a horse, and secondly to restrain, or, when requisite, to stop
him.
* * * * *
As it is the disposition of a horse, when mounted, to go fast, and as
it is the disposition of a man to pull at any thing in this world as
little as possible, curb-bits and curb-chains (as their names truly
denote) have been invented, by which the animal in all his movements
on parade or on the road is slightly thrown on his haunches, with his
head raised more or less above its natural level. In this position his
eyes are of course proportionally elevated, and as there exists no
obstruction on the macadamized roads, &c., on which he travels, he soon
ceases to look downwards; and although, if he then happens to pass over
a little hole, he may put a foot into it, or may slightly blunder over
half a shovelfull of loose stones which had escaped his observation,
yet, if he has good action, and a tolerable rider, he earns the
character of being a "capital hack."
Now to metamorphose "a hack" into "a hunter" is principally effected
by the bridle, and yet the great difficulty of the art is to learn not
how much, but how little to use it; in short, a considerable portion
of what the bridle has done has to be undone. Accordingly, instead of
being encouraged to travel on his haunches with his fore legs lightly
touching the ground, the latter must be required to bear the greater
portion of the burden, which it is the duty of the hind legs to propel.
The head has to be brought down to its proper level; and to induce or
rather to oblige the horse to make his eyes the lantern of his feet, to
study geology instead of astronomy, he should be slowly ridden, with a
loose rein, over every little hole, grip, or heap that would be likely
to throw a hack down. Whenever he can be made to stumble (if the rider
feels that he will not actually fall), the reins should instantly be
dropped. In like manner he should be walked for several days over the
roughest ground that can be found, particularly land that has been
excavated to obtain the substratum and left in holes. With a perfectly
loose rein he should be gently trotted, gently cantered, and gently
galloped over a surface of this description, the rider always dropping
the rein when he blunders. Vegetius, in describing the horsemanship of
the Parthians in the time of Xerxes, states that in order to make their
horses sure-footed over rough, broken ground, they placed on a space of
level ground a number of wooden troughs of different heights, filled
with earth, over which in galloping they had many falls.
Under similar treatment, the strength, activity, intelligence, and
eyesight of the animal will, as in a wild state, cordially be combined
by him to protect himself from the degradation as well as punishment
of falling; and so ample and sufficient are these powers, that the
rider will soon find, that instead of having to hold his horse up,
it has become out of his power to throw him down. In fact, under the
guidance of nature, rather than of man, "the hack" in a very short
period, and without going over a fence of any sort or kind, may thus
be made competent to follow hounds across any country in the United
Kingdom; while, on the other hand, the nag that had only been taught in
a riding-school or in a dealer's yard to jump neatly over bars, gates,
and hurdles, would, most particularly to the neck of his rider, prove
to be infinitely worse than useless.
Of course a horse is not a perfect hunter until he has had a small
amount (for he does not require much) of experience in leaping; but as,
with the exception of water, every horse is able, willing, and eager to
jump, generally speaking, more than is desired, his rider has merely
to teach the noble animal beneath him to add to his valour just enough
discretion to induce him to look, not _before_, but _while_ he leaps.
A hunter when following hounds is so excited, that if, in addition to
his own eagerness, he be hurried at his fences, he rushes more and
more recklessly at them, until he gets into needless trouble. On the
other hand, just as he approaches every fence, if he be always patted
on the neck, and gently restrained, he feels satisfied that he is to
be allowed to do the job; and accordingly, curtailing his stride as
he approaches, he does it not only cleverly, but without any waste of
exertion, which, to use a common hunting-field expression, "he may want
before the day's over."
When a horse is enabled, like a soldier whose stiff stock has just
been unbuckled, to drop his head to its natural position, he not only
goes safely, but, without risk of cutting his fetlocks, he can gallop
over ground deeply covered with loose impediments of any description;
and, accordingly, in Surrey it has long been a hunting axiom that it
is the curb bridles which by throwing hunters on their haunches in a
false position cause them to cut their back sinews with those sharp
flints which, in a snaffle bit, they can clatter over without injury. A
good Northamptonshire rider, in lately taking a fence, jumped over it
into a stone quarry. Now, if he had been in the bent attitude we have
described, he must inevitably have pitched on, and have fractured his
skull. From, however, sitting correctly on his saddle, his ankles, and
not his head, suffered.
In like manner when Mehemet Ali, under the pretence of investing his
son, Toossoon Pacha, with the command of an army, by a treacherous
invitation inveigled the Mamelukes into the summit of the citadel of
El Kahira (the Victorious), commonly called Cairo, and then suddenly
dropping the portcullis, directed upon them from barred windows on
three sides a murderous fire, Amyn Bey, rather than submit to such a
death, spurring his Arab charger over his writhing comrades, and across
the low crenated wall, jumped over a precipice of about fifty feet; and
yet, although of the horse it may truly be said that
"Headlong from the mountain's height
He plunged to endless night,"
for, on reaching the hard rock, he was smashed to death, the rider,
who, no doubt, had expected the same fate, was enabled, with only a
broken ankle, to crawl away, recover, and for nearly thirty years
enjoy, with health and wealth, the well-earned appellation of "the last
of the Mamelukes;" in short
"The man recovered from the blow, the _horse_ it was that died."
In further evidence, however, of the theory that when a man sits
properly in his saddle, it is the horse, and not he, who suffers by a
tumble, we submit to our readers the following extraordinary narration
by a young General officer of high character, who has kindly permitted
us to publish it, briefly describing a fall on horseback to a depth
equal to 40 feet more than the height of the weather-cock on the
steeple of St. Martin's church, in London, or to double the height of
the Duke of York's monument at the bottom of Regent Street.
"United Service Club, 18th March, 1860."
"In June, 1848, at the island of Dominica, in the West Indies,
I fell over a precipice of 237 feet perpendicular height, upon
the rocks by the sea-side. This occurred about a quarter past
7 o'clock +P.M.+, then quite dark, as no twilight exists in
the tropics. Every bone of my horse was broken, and I conceive
my escape from instant death the most miraculous that ever
occurred. Three men, at various periods, had previously been
dashed to atoms at the same spot, and one man twelve months
after me, when the Legislative Assembly passed a resolution to
secure the road; but if twenty thousand men were to fall there,
I think nothing short of a miracle could save one of them. My
recovery from the shock I sustained was also as miraculous as
my escape with life. I sent out an artist to take a drawing
on the spot, and also had the place surveyed by an engineer.
I have often thought of putting down all the circumstances of
that extraordinary accident, but the dread of being taken for
a Baron Munchausen has restrained me. I do not expect that any
one will believe it, although there are many living witnesses.
Nor do I expect any sympathy, for, as soon as I could hold
a pen, I detailed the catastrophe to my mother to account
for my long silence. I received, in reply, in due course, a
long letter detailing family news, without any allusion to my
unfortunate case, except in a postscript, in which she merely
said, '_Oh! William, I wish you would give up riding after
dinner._'[C]
"+Wm. Yorke Moore+, Major-Gen."
"P.S. During the fall I stuck to my horse."