RIDING ON THE ROAD.
I have hitherto been surmising that your rides have been upon your
own horse: one specially purchased for you, and perfectly trained
for a lady’s use. If such a state of things could always be ensured,
equestrianism would be a safe and delightful pastime for the gentler
sex--but, unfortunately, it cannot be so. Ladies who are much in the
saddle are called upon often to ride a variety of horses, and under
such circumstances their position is an awkward one, if unaccustomed to
manage any save thoroughly-trained and well-mannered animals. To have
none other for one’s own use is at all times advisable, so far as it
can be done, but occasions may arise when you will have to prove your
claim to a higher title than that of merely a “nice” or “ladylike”
rider. Say, for instance, that you are stopping at a country house,
your invitation to which has not been extended to your horse, or yet
to your groom, and that there are riding parties every day, which
you are invited to join, your host sometimes supplying you with a
mount, and a neighbour occasionally offering to lend you one, it is
scarcely probable that, having a different animal to carry you every
time you go out, you can hope to escape discovering the uncomfortable
effects which pernicious training, or subsequent injudicious handling,
invariably bring about. To be prepared for these--not to be taken
aback by them--to be ready to face every emergency, and overcome every
difficulty in the way of equitation--is the true meaning of the word
“horsewoman.” It shall be my office, then, in this chapter to endeavour
to tell you as concisely as possible how to act (in all cases of
ordinary road-riding), when called upon to control horses with whose
ways you are not altogether familiar.
In the first place, when your mount is led to the door, be ready in
time to go out and inspect him. This you can readily do while the
laggards of the party are preparing for their ride. In using the term
“inspect,” I do not mean that you are to assume a confident, boastful
air, or proceed to make an ostentatious examination, as though nobody
knew anything about horse business save yourself. This would only make
you appear ridiculous, and be calculated to incur dislike. You should
go quietly to your horse’s head, and while affecting to be engaged in
caressing him, run a hasty eye over the following points: that the
saddle is quite clear of the play of the shoulders, and yet not too
far back; that the girths are tight enough, and the surcingle not too
loose, although decidedly easier than the girths; that the headstall is
sufficiently long, and in every way easy-fitting--the curb-chain the
correct length--the lip-strap on--the martingale (if a standing one) of
easy length, and if a running, so arranged that the pull of the reins
shall be in the proper place--namely, at the top of the withers. If you
find nothing to correct, you may account yourself fortunate; if, on the
contrary, you perceive that anything is amiss or out of place, signify
the same quietly to the groom, and then go indoors, or turn aside,
while he rectifies it. There is something positively unkind in standing
staring at a servant while he attends to matters which you have pointed
out to him for correction. Ten to one, if you do so, he will grow
confused beneath your scrutiny, and will leave his task imperfectly
accomplished. Consideration for others ought at all times to be a part
of your religion. Give no unnecessary trouble; do as much for yourself
as you possibly can; never speak harshly to even the humblest; strive
to put everybody at ease; look away from an embarrassed person until he
has recovered his composure; and if you detect a failure or shortcoming
in a servant’s work, tell him gently about it--quietly, and without
impatience--and it will probably be rectified very much sooner than if
you scolded or stormed. For my own part, I have no liking for grooms
at all, and regard most of them as the veriest eye servers; but I know
there are times when they are unjustly blamed. In this matter I once
got a useful lesson at an English country house. My horse was brought
to the door without a lip-strap, and with things in general so very
indifferently turned out that, being in a hurry, I got provoked, and
began to say more than my custom usually was. The groom, whose eyes
were cast down, looked pitifully at me as he answered, “Forgive me
to-day, ma’am, please. My little child died this morning!” And the
great tears rolled down the poor fellow’s cheeks, and I felt grieved
for having spoken impatiently to him when his heart was so sore. It was
a lesson not to be forgotten, for there are times with ourselves when
sickness or trouble prevents us from attending properly to our tasks;
and servants are liable to similar weaknesses.
It will be well, when you are seated comfortably in your saddle
and have felt your horse’s mouth a little, to inquire of your
host (should the animal belong to him) whether or not he has any
peculiarities, or “little tricks,” for which it may be as well you
should be prepared. You will be almost certain to hear “No,” for it
is a strange coincidence that men are quite as infatuated about their
equine possessions as women are about their children, and will never
on any account be induced to believe that such a thing as a fault can
possibly exist in the nature or training of any of their stud. At the
same time, it can be no harm to _ask_, and then, if the owner can be
reluctantly brought to acknowledge that he “wants a bit of rousing,”
you may prepare yourself for the discomforts of riding a slug, or, if
the animal is allowed to be “a trifle skittish,” you can ask for an
ounce or two of diachylon, or the same quantity of birdlime, to stick
yourself well in the saddle!
Joking apart, it is really an unwise thing to be too foolhardy about
riding strange horses. The most courageous equestrian in the world
ought not to fancy herself above asking, in a pleasant off-hand way,
for some information concerning the character of her casual mount;
in fact, the more accomplished the rider, the more necessary it may
be to do so, for there are many owners of horses who know very little
themselves about riding, or of the perils attendant upon supplying
ladies with unsuitable mounts--and the consequence is, that if there
happens to be in the stable a creature whom that Irish groom, already
mentioned, would call a “tattherin’ divil,” he is quietly told off on a
hunting day, or otherwise, for the use of the lady or gentleman who may
be esteemed the most capable of managing him.
A Hungerton farmer--one of a big class--once volunteered to lend me a
magnificent high-flyer to negotiate the big thorn fences with the Quorn
pack. I was foolish enough to accept, without asking anything about the
animal, except whether he could jump; and when I tell you that between
Beeby and Scraptoft he gave me two falls, that he knocked down a boy on
a pony, and damaged a wrecker to the extent of a couple of sovereigns,
besides bringing me home without a hat, and with my face well stuck
over with thorns and a general need of surgical assistance all about
me, it will be readily imagined that the “high-flyer” was not exactly
an eligible beast for a lady to ride. But his owner only stood in the
doorway laughing from ear to ear when he saw me, and uttered a great
“guffaw” on hearing the recital of his property’s misdeeds. “Glory
be to Christmas! I thought you could ride anything!” was all that he
said, fairly doubled in two with merriment at the sight of my forlorn
appearance,--and I answered crossly enough, that had I been as wise
when setting out as I was on returning, I would have seen that the
animal was differently bitted, and have clothed myself in sackcloth--to
say nothing of ashes--instead of in the best hunting-gear of which I
was possessed. “Well, you never asked me a word about him,” his owner
said, still in a roar, “or I’d have told you that he was a rum one when
once he got going!” and as I had nothing to say in reply to this, I
took myself and my rags upstairs out of sight, and spent the next day
in bed, with a leech to my eye, and plasters all over my body.
To return to the subject of road-riding.
Always strive to make your horse start from the door at a walk. If he
is properly trained he will step nicely out, nodding his head as he
goes; but no matter how quiet he may appear, it will not be well to
leave him an entirely loose rein. You should keep a light but firm
hold upon the bridle, so as to be ready at a second’s warning to bring
restraining pressure to bear upon his mouth.
If you want a horse to walk fast, ride him with the snaffle only; but
when in the park, or desirous of showing off, you will best bring out
his action by a light use of the curb. If he is a very highly-mettled
animal, and anxious to get off on first setting out, do not irritate
him by keeping him back with too tight a rein. Allow him to trot away
pretty freely at the beginning, and after awhile he will be almost
certain to settle down and walk collectedly for you with a slack
bridle. To hold a horse in, and then whip or spur him to make him
walk, is but to turn his courage to vice. My counsel is, leave him
his head, and when he attempts to break--namely, to get into a trot
or canter--at a time when it is your wish that he should walk, pull
him gently up and make him begin again. By adopting this method, and
preserving as strict a command over your own temper as over the reins,
you will soon teach almost any horse to walk correctly.
I believe that in no other pace can there be found such true experience
of the meaning of “light hands.” This admirable attribute--which, it
must be confessed, is generally confined to women--signifies absolute
control over an animal with scarcely any display of force--a sort
of elastic touch, by which accomplished riders convey their meaning
to their mounts through the almost imperceptible action of the bit,
acted upon by the reins held lightly with the fingers. This is a poor
explanation, but it will do to serve as a guide, until experience shall
have taught you far better than printed instructions ever can.
I would have you remember that although a very perfect walker may be
permitted to go forward for a good space with a loose rein, he should
never, _if tired_, be allowed to do so, for even one moment. Hold him
with a firm, even hand, keeping a judicious watch upon the bridle, and
drawing his head rather _downward_ and _toward his chest_. By this
means he will be constrained to bring his hind legs well and regularly
under him.
Young riders are often exceedingly incautious when taking beaten horses
home after a hunt, desiring to affect the seemingly careless seat and
equally unstudied handling of the reins which are the prerogatives of
finished horsewomen. These, having complete confidence in themselves,
can afford a certain show of _nonchalance_, but it will not do for
students to follow their “carelessness,” until their own claim to both
“hands” and “seat” shall have become perfectly ensured.
You must, when walking, keep your horse collected: by which I mean that
he is to be kept well on his haunches, and prevented from crossing his
legs. Let him pick his own steps if going over rutty or uneven ground;
move with him as he moves, turn as he turns, so as to be, as it were,
a portion of him, and, when going round a corner, do not pull his head
any further in that direction than will just enable you to see his eye.
Having thus considered the subject of instructing an imperfectly-broken
horse to walk well upon the road--in such a manner as shall gain for
him the reputation of being a good roadster, or covert hack--we will
now say a few words about trotting. When you want an animal to change
from a walk to a trot, signify your wish to him by a light movement
of the bridle in his mouth, a pressure of your leg and whip-handle,
and an indication of your meaning by a slight rising in the stirrup.
When he begins to go, keep him thoroughly well collected, but not on
any account too tightly reined in. Timid equestrians do themselves
and their mounts great injustice by fancying that a tight grip of the
bridle, and consequent shortening of the horse’s head, is in any way
calculated to ensure their safety. It is exactly the contrary way.
Allow somebody to rein back your own head and neck, and then attempt
to walk down an unknown staircase, or go in and out among obstacles
that you cannot see. Ten to one you will make a blunder, and come
down; whereas, had you been left your head, your progress would in
all probability have been perfectly easy and safe. I hope I shall
succeed in making my meaning distinctly understood in this matter,
because it really is a most important one. I just want to illustrate
the difference between permitting an animal to go all abroad (or what
Tom Cannon calls “slummucking”)--and reining him in so very tightly
that he cannot see where he is expected to plant his feet. On your
complete knowledge of this essential subject, one-half, if not more, of
your success as a horsewoman must inevitably depend, and in my anxiety
that you should grasp the meaning of it, I may, perhaps, be found
fault with for referring to it too often, or for speaking of it in too
homely a fashion. This is, I am aware, an age of false refinement:
one in which a writer has to grapple with extraordinary difficulties,
being stigmatised as “coarse” when he ventures to set forth home and
useful truths, and “vulgar” when he writes humorously or introduces a
spice of fun. Now, it is not my way to care in the least whether or
not such terms are applied to me by outsiders (my friends can judge
for themselves)--but I would a good deal rather any day be a “vulgar”
_practical_ writer, doing some good in my generation, than a “refined”
useless one, and I think it necessary to make reference to the matter
in this place, because I have a great deal yet to say on subjects
connected with the one on which I am writing, and if I am to dress up
my sentences in flowers and satin ribbons, instead of suffering the
plain meaning of them to appear, I may go on writing for many months to
come, and yet fail to make myself properly understood in the end.
You must bear in mind that the trot is the horse’s natural pace, and
that when not overpressed he will go further and with less fatigue
to himself when _regulated_ to it, than at either a canter or
gallop. At the same time, he must not on any account be urged beyond
the limit of his powers, for such a course is not only cruel, but
dangerous--inasmuch as an animal going a hard pace cannot, if he makes
a mistake, recover his balance as rapidly as if proceeding at the even
rate of eight, or from that to ten miles an hour. I consider the latter
excellent going indeed; too fast, in fact, unless the remainder of your
party happen to be as well mounted as yourself--for nothing on earth is
more indicative of bad taste than riding perpetually in front of those
who are in company with you.
I am not, as a rule, at all in favour of allowing a horse to break from
a trot to a canter, or from one pace of any kind to another, but there
are times--when going long distances, for instance--at which a humane
rider will permit her mount to do so by way of rest and change, rather
than keep him perpetually going at precisely the same pace, in order to
gain for him the name of an exceptionally fine trotter.
Your rise and fall in the saddle should be light, graceful, straight,
easy, and accurately in time with the movements of your horse’s
forelegs. By attending to this rule when riding on the road, you will
save yourself and your mount a great deal of unnecessary fatigue.
If you find, when trotting, that your horse is going in an
uncomfortable, one-sided manner, giving now and again a strange sort of
cow kick, you may be confident that the saddle is hurting him. In such
a case dismount at once, and if at all close to home, put the bridle
over your arm and lead him the rest of the journey. Should it happen,
however, when you are a long distance away, you must only take him very
quietly indeed, until you are near enough to walk the remainder of the
way yourself.
It is on just such emergencies that the practice, which I have so
staunchly recommended, of wearing comfortable easy-fitting boots, comes
most usefully in. I have seen ladies remain seated upon the backs of
most palpably suffering horses, simply because they were absolutely
incapable of walking even half a mile in the boots which they had
donned for riding.
Never allow your horse to get into a jog-trot when in company with a
riding party, or in the park--but remember that it is a most valuable
pace at which to bring home a tired hunter. A very light easy canter,
wherever the road is soft, or where there is sufficient grass by the
side of it to take the jar off his feet, or else what is known as the
“jog,” will be the most humane way of getting him safely to his stable.
Many lady riders imagine that cantering is a safer as well as a
pleasanter pace at which to travel, than trotting (whether fast or
slow) can ever be. This is really a great mistake; trotting is the
safest pace at which a horse can go, provided that he is sound-footed.
I shall strive to explain the reason in a few words. When cantering,
the off fore and off hind leg are advanced together, leaving the others
in the rear; thus the diagonal legs of the two pairs are not set down
simultaneously. If you listen to a perfectly sound horse trotting on
a road, you will hear four even beats; but in the canter it may be
only two or three, according as the animal’s weight is adjusted. When
trotting he makes his diagonal legs serve him turn about, so that when
one pair is going forward, the other is sustaining his weight in an
equal, or perfectly _even_ manner; not in a one-sided way, as is the
case in the canter. A sound-footed horse, trotting at a regular pace,
always has two diagonal supports under him, and two coming to their
assistance, for which very reason fast trotting is a dangerous pace
when a leg or foot happens to be unsound, or when a slovenly motion is
indulged in.
A horse trotting quickly should never be pulled up in a hurry. You
should bring him to a slow trot by shortening the reins, and then to a
walk by sitting down in the saddle, and talking to him in a language
that he will very readily learn to comprehend.
In reining a horse back, you must keep in mind the fact that he cannot
move at all if you drag him so _suddenly_ backward that he gets both
hind-legs under him together. It is a revolting and heartrending
sight to see the way in which draymen beat unfortunate horses about
the breasts and bellies by way of punishment for not backing heavy
loads far enough, when, in reality, the wretched animals are in such
position that they cannot by any possibility move their extended
hind-legs. I saw a cruel instance of this in Liverpool a few months
ago: a carter savagely beating his horse, a crowd of persons looking
on, and one or two among them abusing the man in no measured terms;
yet not one had the sense to tell him that if he would only lead the
horse quietly _forward_, even a step or two, and _then_ back him, doing
the same thing every time that he came to a stop, the desired object
would very soon be attained--which it was, as soon as the proper method
had been tried. This is just the principle of reining back. The horse
must be collected, and brought _square_ on his legs every time that he
resists, and be again brought under the influence of the bridle, for
backing purposes, when he has come to an even stand.
I fancy it will be almost superfluous to tell you to observe strictly
the rules of the road--namely, to keep to the left, except when you
have to pass anything going your way, in which case you must get by on
the right of it.
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