RIDING AND HUNTING ABROAD.
I now turn to the pleasant subject of riding and hunting abroad, with
special reference to India, where almost all our fellow countrymen and
women ride and own horses. Even in lonely up-country stations which
contain only a few white residents, gymkhanas are often got up by
officers who train and ride their own horses and ponies. Nothing seems
to give these good sportsmen greater pleasure than lending their equine
favourites to their lady friends. Therefore, a visitor who is fond of
riding, need never be at a loss for a mount, as I found during my four
years' residence in that hospitable land. I can truly say that I did not
understand what real hospitality is, until I went to India, and shall
always remember the great kindnesses my husband and I received from
Native Princes. For instance, the late Maharajah of Vizianagram, who was
devoted to horses, invited us to visit him, placed a furnished house,
servants, horses, carriages, food, wines and every other comfort at our
disposal, and considered our month's stay much too short. Ladies in
India who ride, obtain so much practice as a rule on various kinds of
animals, that they soon become expert horsewomen. It is the custom there
to ride twice a day: In the early morning after _choti haziri_ (little
breakfast), which usually consists of a cup of tea, a boiled egg, bread
and butter; and in the evening. There is no law of trespass in India,
and it is delightful to canter for miles while sharing the freedom of
the Son of the Desert who is carrying you. There is nothing like these
lonely scampers as a cure for petty worries, for you can put them so far
behind you, that on your return you have forgotten their existence.
Calcutta is an ideal riding city, with its beautiful _maidan_ (plain),
where there are miles of springy turf for galloping, a large race-course
with well-kept training and hacking tracks, and hurdles for those who
desire jumping practice. There is also a Red Road, which is the Rotten
Row of the place, for afternoon hacking among the beauty and fashion, so
what more could the heart of man or woman desire? During the misnamed
"cold weather," women who are fond of cross country work, can ride once
a week over made fences in the paperchases. The course is usually about
three miles long, well supplied with fences, chiefly hurdles and stiff
mud walls from three feet six to four feet six high. As the start takes
place at about seven in the morning, and as the meets are some distance
from the town, the devotees of sport have to be up at about five
o'clock, dress by lamplight, send on their chasers, and drive or hack to
the trysting place. Two "hares" carry the paper in bags slung across
their shoulders and receive a quarter of an hour's grace in which to
plant their burden, where they know the coloured slips will take some
finding. The hares ride over the fences, and by distributing their
landmarks sparsely and in places where their pursuers can follow only in
single file, they often make it difficult for the leading division to
keep the line. Those who over-run the paper, of course imperil their
chance of being among the first six, which is the number of "placed
horses" in these paperchase records. A writer in _Ladies in the Field_,
while discussing this form of sport, says: "Any old screw, country-bred
pony or short-shouldered Arab may be brought out on these occasions."
That author evidently had no experience of Calcutta paperchasing,
because a horse for this work must not only be a fast galloper and
clever jumper, but also must have a good mouth and temper, and be fit
and well. In fact, the ideal paperchaser is a cross between a
steeplechaser and a hunter, for he has to possess the speed and quick
jumping qualities of the former, and the amiability and brains of the
latter. Unless a lady has such a mount, it will be almost impossible for
her to secure a coveted place among the first half dozen. Also, there
are so many horses, say, forty or more, all galloping at the same
fences, which are not broad enough for a quarter of that number to take
abreast. Consequently, those behind have to see that the coast is clear,
before they can proceed. Falls frequently occur, but serious accidents
are happily rare. It is true that two men have been killed in these
chases; but although ladies have taken part in them since the early
days when that fine horsewoman, Mrs. "Jim" Cook, set the example, I have
not heard of any woman getting badly hurt. Mrs. Cook, who was known in
India as the "Mem Sahib," holds the record of being the only woman who
has won the Paperchase Cup when competing against men. She won in 1881,
was the only lady in about twenty starters, and her mount was
appropriately named Champion. The late Lord William Beresford was
second, and General Cook, her husband, was third. After I left India,
Lord William gave a cup to be competed for by ladies only, which must
have acted as a strong stimulant to those who had vainly tried to beat
the "mere male." Mrs. Murray was a most plucky rider, and made more than
one good bid for the Paperchase Cup, which she well deserved to win. I
had a very good Australian horse named Terence, by Talk of the Hills,
which got placed in these chases, but when I hoped to do great things
with him, I got typhoid fever and exchanged my residence to the General
Hospital. The first time I took Terence, who was a beautiful jumper, to
a paperchase, two horses fell in front of him at the first jump. A horse
ridden by that good sportswoman, Mrs. Saunders, refused a hurdle in
front of us, and Terence followed suit. After I had got him sailing away
again, a horse ridden by Mr. Garth, a well known horseman, fell over a
big blind ditch just in front of Terence, who luckily cleared the lot.
Captain Turner was walking about minus horse and hat, and that famous
G.R., Captain "Ding" Macdougal, had a nasty purl. In fact, that chase
was a chapter of accidents. Mr. "Tougal," who had helped to lay the
paper, told me afterwards that two of the unbreakable mud walls were
four feet three inches high, which is a very formidable height,
considering that the horses had to jump out of deep mud. That chase took
place on 2nd January, 1890, and I think it was a far higher test of
'cross country cleverness, than hunters in the shires have to go
through.
Mr. Clark, who lived and paperchased for several years in Calcutta, and
who was a large horse dealer in Hilmorton, near Rugby, tells me that he
frequently measured the mud walls which were built for these chases, and
often found them full five feet high. The large majority of horses
ridden in these events are well bred Australians, which, taking them all
round, are the best jumpers I have ever seen. Some "country-breds" are
fine fencers, but Arabs, delightful as they are for hacking, rarely
distinguish themselves across country.
The Calcutta natives were always on the look-out for squalls, like the
Irish "wreckers" of olden days. It was no uncommon sight to see a black
man, with nothing on but a _kummerbund_, running away to his lair, with
a stirrup leather, hat, or even a pair of spurs belonging to some
dethroned sportsman. The horse ridden by Mrs. Saunders in the paperchase
I have alluded to, was a powerful "Waler" which, according to his
importer, Mr. Macklin, had won nearly all the jumping prizes in
Australia! He had evidently been spoiled at the competition business,
like many other horses, for despite the careful handling of his
mistress, he was useless as a paperchaser. We had, while living at
Melton Mowbray, a black Irish horse which also had won prizes at show
jumping, but he was a most determined refuser in the open, and had many
other tricks of temper, so we soon got rid of him.
On off days, during the cold weather in Calcutta, Mr. Milton, who was a
dealer and owner of large livery stables, used to invite the riding
community to hunt jackals with his "bobbery pack." The meet took place
at the stables before daylight, and the "hounds" were carried to covert
in a sort of water-cart. They were a most ferocious lot, to judge by the
scuffling, squealing and snarling that took place _en route_. When they
were let out, they appeared to lose their heads; the greyhounds,
whippets, fox-terriers, bull-terriers, pariahs and nondescripts
scampering off in various directions and requiring a good deal of
keeping in order. Naturally, the greyhounds and whippets did the
coursing, and having sighted a jack, they soon put an end to him. Our
huntsman's chief anxiety, as far as I could see, was to arrive in time
to secure a bit of the prey for the small fry. It was very interesting
to watch the work of these "hounds," and to note that the small terriers
used their noses to advantage, and often put their speedier companions
on the right track. I had many enjoyable scampers with Mr. Milton's
bobbery pack, which I believe is still going strong in the City of
Palaces.
At Lucknow, paperchasing was nearly allied to steeplechasing, for the
course was flagged, and there was no paper to disturb the galloping. Few
ladies took part in those functions, but I enjoyed my gallop on Mr.
McAndrew's pony, Suffolk Punch, which, after floundering a bit at the
double, came down at the last fence, luckily without damaging either of
us. The great drawback to the paperchasing at the capital of Oudh, was
the blinding dust which was raised by the leading animals, and which
almost obscured the fences in front of their followers. As I was only on
a pony, all I could see in front of me was flitting shadows in a brown
fog, so I left everything to my game little mount, who was galloping his
hardest. For the same reason, dust thrown up by the leaders, is not
unfrequently the cause of accidents at steeplechasing in India.
Near Bombay and Mozufferpore, jackals are hunted during the cold season
by foxhounds sent out from England. In 1889, Mr. Rowland Hudson, Master
of the Mozufferpore pack, had seventeen couple of foxhounds, nine of
which were supplied by himself, and eight by subscription. These hounds
were selected by the late Tom Firr, from the Quorn, Cottesmore, and
Pytchley, and they accounted for fifteen brace of jackals from November
to March, hunting only two days a week, and after having had several
good runs. Foxhounds stand the heat of India badly, and most of them out
there die of liver disease, despite the precaution taken of sending them
to the hills during the hot months.
At Singapore, drag-hunting provides good sport in which ladies
participate, and show their fine horsewomanship to admiring friends,
when the run finishes over the fences on the racecourse. At Shanghai we
can go paperchasing on China (Mongolian) ponies, which, despite their
want of pace and somewhat three-cornered appearance, are very clever
over bad ground. The ladies whom I had the pleasure of meeting in
Shanghai, like those in India, were all devoted to riding, and I had
many merry scampers across country with them. In the country round
Tientsin, we had often to jump over ponderous coffins, for John Chinaman
has a provoking way of omitting to bury his relations, after he has
stowed them away in their long homes.
Having to stay for a month at Suez, I was greatly disappointed to find
no better mounts than the very knowing Egyptian donkeys. As I had never
ridden that kind of animal before, I sent my syce, Motee, to hire a
couple for the day. To my surprise, the donkey owner came to tell me
that I could not ride any of his animals unless he accompanied me! I
assured him that I was capable of managing an ass, and would take every
care of the beast entrusted to me. He smiled, apparently at my
presumption, and as I saw that he would not let me have my way, I
consented to the infliction of his company. At the appointed time he
appeared on foot, leading two mokes and armed with a long thick stick.
As he was evidently going to walk, I whispered to Motee to gallop after
me as hard as he could, and give the stick man the slip. This I found
far easier said than done, because my donkey utterly ignored my
commands, even when they were backed up by force, and would take orders
only from his master. I saw the man trying to conceal a smile, as I
whacked my placid mount with the energy of one who meant business, so
impatiently asked him if he had fulfilled the promise he had given Motee
to bring me his best donkeys. He assured me that I was sitting on the
back of Mrs. Langtry, who was well known as the fastest animal in Suez,
and by far the handsomest. He said he had Mrs. Cornwallis West, Ellen
Terry, Mary Anderson, Mrs. Kendal, and other good mounts; but Mrs.
Langtry was the pick of the basket for speed and endurance. I asked the
name of Motee's moke, which he said was his next best one, and found
that it was called Mr. Gladstone! The pair were excellent friends, and
insisted on walking side by side, although Motee did all he could to
keep Mr. Gladstone behind. Disliking this aspect of affairs, I dealt
Motee's mount a couple of sharp cuts with my whip over the quarters,
with the object of inducing him to set the pace. This resulted in such
high kicking on the part of Mr. Gladstone, that Motee nearly fell off,
and the man behind ran up yelling in such an angry tone, that I almost
feared he would chastise me in a similar manner. He cooled down and then
patronisingly told me that when I had grown older and had gained more
experience in riding, I would not be guilty of cruelty to dumb animals.
Having failed in my tactics, and paid for my ride, I resigned all
further activity in the proceedings, and submitted to having the speed
of my mount regulated by the stick from behind. When pursued, Mrs.
Langtry would go off with a rush, pausing at intervals to listen for
footsteps behind, and assure herself that the stick man was well out of
reach. Once she relapsed into a dreamy reverie, and so far forgot
herself as to allow her owner to wake her up with a tremendous whack,
which sent her flying with such force that I was nearly jerked out of
the saddle. Our destination was the First Castle, and I was glad to turn
homewards. Motee did not appear to have enjoyed his share of the joke,
for he looked very angrily at the donkey man as he removed my saddle,
and said: "Dis no good ponies, _Mem Sahib_, plenty _tamasha_."
That evening when I was recounting my adventures at dinner, Count Carlo
Sanminiatelli, who was staying at the same hotel, asked me in French if
I was fond of riding. On hearing my reply, he at once placed at my
disposal nearly three hundred remounts which were to be shipped later on
to Massowah. These horses belonged to the Italian Government, which was
expecting a row with King John of Abyssinia. After that, Motee and I
used to disappear for hours in the desert every day, and we wended our
way back to the hotel, only when the pangs of hunger forced us to do so.
We would try sometimes as many as fifteen animals in a day, and I took
the numbers of those which were nice to ride. In a very short time I
had a list of more than a dozen of the nicest horses, which I intended
to keep for my own hacking. As most of them had been accustomed to the
barbarous Mameluke bit, which is used in Egypt, they took very kindly to
my snaffle. The desert is a grand place for trying experiments with
horses; for in it there is nothing to frighten or distract their
attention from their work, and if one does happen to get a spill, the
falling is very soft. As soon as the news of my doings became noised
abroad in Suez, the riding men mustered in great force and borrowed
several of the horses I had passed as quiet. It was amusing to see some
of the horsemen sending all over the place to borrow a saddle, and in a
couple of days we all met for a ride. One of the ladies rode very well,
but she would not try any of the remounts, as she had her own Arab.
There was seldom such excitement in Suez before, the lawn tennis ground
became quite deserted, and everyone seemed to have gone riding mad.
Coursing steinbok with greyhounds used to be a popular sport in South
Africa, but when my husband and I were in Kimberley in 1892, Mr. Fenn
was establishing a pack of foxhounds. I fear the Jameson Raid and its
dire results have sadly disturbed the harmony of that sporting
community.
I cannot help thinking that the Germans are more devoted to riding than
any other Continental nation. I have not hunted in Germany, as I was
there only during the summer; but I sold a good hunter to a German Count
who was a fine horseman and a Master of Foxhounds. He told me that a
large number of ladies hunted with his pack. I was particularly struck
with the immense size and beauty of the riding schools in Berlin. In the
Berliner Tattersall there are three large riding schools, and I seldom
went there without seeing some ladies on horseback. In the largest
riding school there is a gallery, a refreshment room, reading room,
several dressing rooms, a bandstand, and seating accommodation for
hundreds of people. The proprietor told me that in the winter months
when the weather is too bad for outside riding, ladies ride in the
schools, and various entertainments are given. I saw a large number of
ladies riding in the Tiergarten, although it was out of the season, and
I expected to find the ride as empty as Rotten Row in the winter months.
As I went there before eight in the morning, our German cousins must be
early risers. On the last occasion we visited the Tiergarten, we were on
our way home from Russia, and, having a couple of hours to wait for our
train, we strolled into the delightful wooded ride. It was about
half-past seven on a cold March morning, and almost the first people I
saw there were the Kaiser and the Kaiserin, so I no longer marvelled at
German ladies' taste for early rising.
When I was in the Bois de Boulogne last season, it was greatly
frequented as usual, but it struck me that fewer women ride there now
than formerly, and that motor cars have absorbed their attention.
Although the riding schools of Paris are not to be compared to those of
Berlin, the worst of them is far superior to the two miserable civilian
riding schools in St. Petersburg, where riding is almost entirely a
military function. Very few Russian women ride, although history tells
us that Peter III. kept a pack of hounds, and that his wife, Catherine
II., according to her memoirs, listened to the loving solicitations of
Soltikov while they were riding together "to find the dogs." A saddle
belonging to this amorous lady, which I saw at the Hermitage, was like
an Australian buck-jumping saddle, with large knee rolls and a high
cantle. It was covered with red velvet and decorated with cowrie shells.
The side saddle appears to have been first used in Russia by the
daughters of the Emperor Paul.
The Duchess of Newcastle, writing in _Ladies in the Field_, on "the
untidy slipshod way the riders are often turned out" in Rotten Row,
terms this state of things "a disgrace to a country which is considered
to have the best horses and riders in the world," and wonders what
foreigners must think of the sorry spectacle. This "floppy" untidyness
of riding dress appears to have been introduced by the "new woman."
Twenty years ago, top hats and perfectly fitting habits were _de
rigueur_; but now neither horses nor riders are so well trained for park
hacking as they were in those days. The Duchess also points out that it
is as cheap to be clean as dirty, and there is no reason why the horses
should not be groomed, and their bits burnished.