FIRST HINTS TO A LEARNER.
Having already pointed out my objections to children’s riding, and
appended a chapter of instructions for the benefit of those whose
prejudices in favour of it will not be overruled, I shall in the
present one assume that you, my reader, are not a child in years,
although you may be one in experience. Surmising, then, that I am
addressing a young lady of sixteen, or thereabouts--although the fact
of your being much older will not in any way tell against you--the
first point for consideration will be, whether you are resident in town
or country. If the former, or that you even come up for a temporary
visit now and again, the wisest counsel that I can give you will
be to place yourself under the care of the very best riding-master
within reach of you, being careful to select one according to reliable
recommendation, for some are as incompetent as others are the reverse.
I shall not occupy space or provoke jealousies by naming any in
particular, but shall here take occasion to say, that readers desirous
of receiving private hints or information on any subject strictly
connected with horses, riding, or stable-management, can receive such
by addressing their inquiries to me, care of my publishers, by whom
all communications will be at once sent forward. This plan I have
found to work very well upon former occasions, a few rules being of
necessity laid down. For example: ask all questions as briefly as
possible; write clearly; do not cross your letters; and wait patiently
for answers, accepting the assurance that no unnecessary delay will be
made.
Having, then, advised you, if a city belle, to secure the services of a
competent riding-master (though it shall be my aim by-and-by to teach
you how to ride very well without one), I would follow up this counsel
by saying, when you do so, leave yourself entirely in his hands, and do
precisely what he tells you. This is not by any means an unnecessary
admonition, for at least one-half the awkward riders whose deficiencies
pain our critical eyes in the Row and elsewhere, have learned in
good schools, but have been too wilful, or too conceited, to give up
their own entirely erroneous ideas on certain subjects connected with
equitation, and, as a consequence, failure--not to say fiasco--has of
course followed.
It is precisely the same with regard to every other art. The pupil
should submit her own opinions to those of her teacher. If he is not
competent to instruct her, why go to him at all? And, on the other
hand, if he is, why not follow his advice?
To illustrate my meaning: I rode with a girl, one day, to a meet of
hounds at Courtown Gate--starting from Kilcock Station, to which point
we had railed our horses from Dublin, and trotting the two miles,
or thereabouts, at a brisk pace, for we were a trifle behind time.
From the moment that we settled in our saddles, until we saw the
tails of the “beauties” in full wag at the entrance to Capt. Davis’s
demesne, that girl never for an instant removed her left hand from
her thigh--(pardon plain speaking; it was neither on her hip nor her
knee that she placed it when we started), the fingers pointing in the
direction of the up-pommel, causing, of course, the elbow to be shot
out entirely from the side, the joint turning outwards in singularly
ugly fashion. Should any of my readers have a desire to picture to
themselves this position, with more clearness than words--or lack of
them--have enabled me to depict it, they have only to seat themselves
for a moment upon a make-believe horse, and adopt the pose which I have
just described. I wish they _would_ do it; it would be an excellent
future warning. As I had a tolerably close acquaintance with the
young lady--who had, I was aware, been taught by a really first-rate
master--I ventured upon asking her whether the peculiarity on which she
seemed to pride herself had met with his approval?
“Oh, dear, no!” she replied. “Old _Prosey_ liked me to put both hands
to the bridle, or if only one, the left; but I like this style myself;
it’s so _chic_!”
I was not her teacher, nor did she inquire my opinion,--in fact she
would in all probability have dubbed _me_ “Old Prosey” also, had
I offered one; so I wisely kept silent--and no doubt my companion
believed that I was admiring her original attitude very much, for she
rather intensified it as we proceeded, and took care to canter _in
advance_ of me, whenever we came to a patch of grass by the roadside,
as though to give me full opportunity for feasting my eyes upon her
figure.
Ah me! How often have I seen the same thing since that well-remembered
day; seen it--been sorry for it--and yet smiled to myself because of
the vanity and the folly. Would that we all--each one of us--could “see
ourselves as others see us!” but, unfortunately, we never can.
To return, however, to the subject-matter in hand.
Should it happen that you are chiefly resident in the country, or that
you enjoy the luxury of complete immunity from city life for even a
portion of the year, defer riding until that time of times comes round,
and then _teach yourself_, by simply following a trustworthy code of
instructions laid down by some reliable authority.
This may sound as though I had, after all, but little real faith
in riding-masters. It is certainly not so meant. I would not for a
passing moment cast the smallest slur upon a painstaking and often
much-maligned body of men, many of whom are capable of bringing a pupil
forward in an almost marvellous manner, by the excellence of their
method, and that ready observance of so-called “trifles,” in other
words, a quick eye, and rapid detection of anything that is amiss,
which are the riding-master’s most valuable attributes. Nevertheless,
despite the good opinion in which I hold many instructors of the
art, I am a very strong believer in the efficacy of self-help, and
just as a novice at skating will, in spite of many sore falls and
painful bruises, acquire skill if left to himself, long in advance
of his brother-learner who is trusting to somebody to bring him
along (being pretty certain to come down with a run whenever that
“somebody” considers it expedient to let go), so, in like manner, I
shall be ready to back my pupil, although I may never have seen her,
to hold her position across country, in the park, by lane, street, or
roadway, against the city demoiselle, who in a fashionable school has
been taught to ride upon a carpet of tan, and who would be as much at
sea in a crowded thoroughfare, or endeavouring to cross an intricate
hunting-country, as an inexperienced vocalist would be if called upon
to interpret the difficulties of Wagner or Bach.
Let me here especially impress upon you that, if you value your
prospects as a future good rider, you should not suffer anything to
induce you to accept the services as instructor of John the coachman,
or James the groom. It is lamentable to see the manner in which parents
and guardians of the present day give up the teaching of their charges
to this class of persons, not one of whom has any more idea of how a
lady ought to manage a horse, than of instructing her in the etiquette
of the dinner-table, or the intricacies of the valse. On the evils of
the system, I need not now enlarge; they ought to be apparent to even
the most obtuse; suffice it to say, that fathers and mothers who permit
their daughters to be taught by studgrooms ought not to wonder when
these personages impart another and different style of knowledge to the
pupils whom they have been unwisely privileged to instruct.
To provide yourself with a suitable horse will be the first thing
necessary. It is a cruel injustice to a pupil for a master to expect
her to learn upon any chance animal that may happen to come in her
way. Never attempt such a thing. Respect your rights, and exercise
your privilege by selecting an appropriate mount. If it is not within
your power to do so at the time, put off your practice until it is. I
cannot sufficiently urge upon you the importance of this advice. It
is the very direst mistake for a beginner to attempt to learn upon
an indifferent animal. Bear in mind that first impressions are never
forgotten, that you will take all your future ideas of riding from
the sensations which you derive from your elementary practice of the
art, and, believe me, if you make your opening venture upon the back
of a happy-go-lucky beast, one who is sometimes well-conducted, but
oftener not, or who shies, or goes upon his shoulders, or indulges in
cross-legged movements, or throws up his head, or bores (which is a
still more objectionable habit), or if you are called upon to gain your
first experience upon a rough trotter, or a loose galloper, who, to use
a stable term, goes “slummucking” all over the place, you will care but
little for riding during the remainder of your life. The discomforts
which such things entail will dwell unpleasantly in your memory, and
in fact create an ineffaceable impression; so much so, that even if,
later on, you happen to be suitably mounted, a long time will have to
elapse before those early impressions can be eradicated, or induced to
fade even partially away, and a still longer one will go by before you
can acquire that _confidence_ which is one of the first and chiefest
necessities of a good and easy rider.
While on this subject, I may say that a timid horsewoman will never be
a successful one. She may just as well give up the pursuit at once,
for her rides will always be a punishment to her. With some, timidity
is a natural weakness which cannot be got over, but with the majority
it is the result of early impressions--an uncomfortable, unfading
recollection of having learnt upon an unsuitable mount.
To illustrate what I say: most children are fond of driving, because
they have never associated the pastime with other than pleasurable
sensations. Neither risk nor discomfort is, as a rule, connected with
the simple carriage exercise to which so many young persons are from
babyhood accustomed; but, give a child his first experience of it by
driving him in an open phaeton, behind a shying, kicking, or backing
horse--one that winds up a long list of vagaries by spilling the
vehicle and its occupants into an unpleasant dyke, and if that child
does not carry his primary impressions through many a long course of
after drives, I am a less sapient observer of human nature than I am
generally accredited with being.
A lady’s horse, to be suitable, should be perfect in temper and
training. Beauty may be dispensed with, decided acquisition though
it undoubtedly is, but disposition and education may not. They are
absolute necessities which cannot be done without, although a really
_skilled_ horsewoman may, without undue risk, ride any animal that is
fit for a man to ride, provided he be not fidgetty in mounting, or a
decidedly hard-mouthed puller: two points with which I shall have to
deal by-and-by.
[Illustration: AN “ORIGINAL” ATTITUDE.]