LOVE OR STEEPLECHASING?
Chris's enjoyment reached perhaps its culminating point in the
round-the-course jumping competition, that took the place of the high
jump--a real good, stiff and varied steeplechase. He noted keenly
the solidity of the obstacles--post and rails, park-palings, high
park gates, and push-over gate, a Suffolk "squeeze," with a barrier
of high hedges and thorns; a bank, both abrupt and sloping; a
Leicestershire bullfinch, and the novelty of the Continental triple
bar, consisting of three high bamboo bars on movable trestles.
These could be arranged at any required distance from one another,
which meant that the horses had to clear a good 20 feet. Then there
was the celebrated sheep-pen jump, in which the rider had to leap
into the pen, and out on the other side, the finish and most
difficult feat being the bank, which was a turfed embankment of five
feet high, the horse having to leap, not over it, but on top of it,
and descend the slope on the other side.
The bringing in of the fences was in itself stirring. White-wigged
postilions of the old style, rode in pairs of grey horses harnessed
to capacious wagons, and in a few minutes all was complete.
Decidedly the drama of the exhibition was the jumping, while the
riding of the foreign cavalry officers, who had not before been seen
in England, was one of the sensations, for there are no finer
horsemen in the world, unless from among the Cossacks and the
cowboys, and their talents are especially distinguished in taking the
banks and big, stiff fences at full speed.
Through the heavy wooden and iron doors there trotted in one by one,
French, Belgian, American, and Spanish horsemen, who were to teach
the English how to high-jump, over forty coming to the post, their
brilliant uniforms adding the last touch of colour to the scene.
The first horse touched the triple bar, but otherwise did a perfect
course, though at the five feet bank which finishes the latter, he
slid along the platform prone, and on all fours, and, like many of
the English horses, could scarcely recover his legs.
It was a remarkable sight to see the string of horses take the gates,
bars, bushes, and fences in the glare of thousands of electric
lights; the row of wooden posts was an ugly jump always. The
terrible triple-bar, most risky of all the Continental jumps, now
introduced to English horsemen for the first time, was constantly
crashing down, amid half-sustained shrieks from the women in the
audience, as the riders were thrown, or jerked on the necks of their
steeds, and it was here that all the British officers came to grief,
though they took their fences with the abandon and dash of a quick
burst in the shires. Indeed their riding was remarkably clever and
plucky, considering that they had never before been through such a
performance, and were all riding green horses. The latter broke into
a gallop as they approached the sloping bank, with a deep and abrupt
fall on the far side, swinging sharply to the left, and took at
tremendous speed the circle of jumps, each distinct from the rest,
then finished down the middle, taking this time, not the slope, but
the wall of the bank, and so disappeared through the gates into the
stables.
All the other obstacles fell when the horse collided with them, but,
as one of the competitors remarked, "There's no give in that bank,"
and it was here that nearly all of the mishaps occurred. A
Lifeguardsman went at the bank as if he were charging an army, but
the horse sprang short, and his rider was shot high over his head.
He turned a complete somersault, and fell on his back on the top of
the bank; the horse followed, and appeared to jump on the prostrate
rider. Ring attendants and judges ran towards him, but the
lieutenant picked himself up smartly--he had not released his hold of
the reins--and mounting the hunter on the top of the bank, rode it
down the slope, and out of the arena, amid enthusiastic plaudits for
his pluck.
England was not alone in the matter of mishaps. One of the 2nd
Chausseurs à Cheval, of the Belgian Army, although a splendid
steeplechase rider, also fell at the bank. He went round the course
at a smart gallop, and cleared everything without registering a
touch. His beautiful bay gelding went at the bank at full speed, but
appeared to make no attempt to rise at it--the animal's chest struck
the vertical side of the embankment, his rider shot into the air, and
he too fell on his back. The lieutenant landed on top of the bank,
and the horse remained below.
A mettlesome bay mare from Belgium, ridden by an officer who wore the
gorgeous uniform of the 2nd Belgian Lancers, refused the first
obstacle, and ran round it; refused the second, and dashed among the
judges, scattering them right and left. After five minutes' display
of temper all over the arena, she was ordered out, and eventually,
with some persuasion, went, having jumped nothing but the judges'
table.
Many of the horses had never jumped inside a building before, and
used to the open showyard, were made nervous, almost frantic, by the
colours, the music, the people, and the general strangeness of the
surroundings, intensified by the glare of the electric light, and the
unfortunate illumination of the trees. So greatly were the nerves of
some of the best-known leapers affected, that often the judges and
messenger boys were sent scurrying when a nervous horse refused his
jump, and careered at full speed round the ring.
So for an hour, in quick succession, followed each other the best
horses and horsemen of Europe--some conspicuous for a close,
immovable, jockey-like seat, the English hunters for dash, and the
Belgians for coolness and neatness. The difference in the way the
men of foreign nationalities sat their horses, keenly interested
Chris, for they did so, if not as gracefully, at least more
effectively than the average English rider in a jumping competition.
Some of them began, continued, and finished the course crisply, and
at high speed, with an unmoved seat, even when heavy men. He noted
that the foreigner rides with long stirrups, and more by balance than
the Englishman, though there was one exception, his stirrups were as
short as a jockey's, his knees crooked high, and pressed very
tight--so steady and sympathetic a seat Chris had seldom seen.
No one could help admiring the Belgian officer's riding, how he never
touches his horse's mouth, but sits as if he were part of the horse,
even if it jumped a little slowly, or "stickily," as we should say.
More than once, delightful instances of the kindness of these
officers to their horses were given. When a fence was refused, no
rough words were used, or resentment shown--a pat of the neck, an
encouraging whisper, and the horse tried again, succeeded, and seemed
even happier in his success than his gentle master.
One of the most interesting figures in the jumping competitions, the
champion jump rider of Belgium, appeared in a finely-fitting uniform,
with black coat, and blue riding breeches. A lithe figure with the
moustachios of the Continental officer, he had a perfect seat, and
took the jumps, and rode his horse at top speed at the high jump
instead of at a canter, as is usually thought necessary for high
jumping. Chris was also keen to observe how the horses threw up
their heels with a curious sharp jerk, or wriggle, when in the act of
topping an obstacle, the result of their being trained to clear bars
which are slightly raised as they take their leap.
After all, thought Gay, it was very like steeplechasing, with the
sinister ambulance and perfect medical arrangements in the background
... that was why it interested Chris to the exclusion of herself....
She watched his face closely, as the reckless boy she had seen at
Elsinore, time after time appeared, and after more than one crushing
fall, limped from the arena, only to reappear, indomitable as ever,
and going at the stiffest obstacles with an unconcern that Chris
himself could not have beaten. Both rode for the sheer zest and love
of it, both counted accidents as mere incidents that did not
seriously interfere with their pleasure; yes--they would have made a
pair of dare-devils to ride against each other, and there was keen
envy in Chris's eyes as he watched the other.
The only round without a mistake was to the credit of Belgium and
Holland, and though a famous Dorset yeoman rode the fastest, and one
of the most faultless courses on a superb horse, undoubtedly the
honours were with the foreigners. They must have got quite a wrong
impression of our hunters ridden by officers, for whether it were
that the horses were unaccustomed to the scene, or that the riders
felt awkward, and communicated their nervousness to their horses,
they gave a very different account of themselves to what they would
do any day in a cross-country run.
"Just fancy that out of us all, there is only one Englishman who can
compete with our visitors!" exclaimed Gay ruefully to Rensslaer, who
had joined them towards the close of the steeplechase competition.
"And what can you expect?" he said quietly. "A young horse-owner in
this country either hunts or plays polo, or both, but he never
troubles himself with showing horses, except occasionally at the
semi-private shows of Ranelagh and Hurlingham. You see, the English
no longer regard horsemanship as a national sport--the foreigners do;
we are all wrong in that respect."
"There's far more of the circus than of legitimate sport about the
sort of thing we have just seen," said Tom Bulteel; "in short, it
doesn't appeal to the hunting man at all. Who wants the high jump,
or the wide jump for horses? English jumping is practically confined
to the hunting field, and the steeplechase course, and all the best
hunters, if well ridden, can be taught to cross all reasonable
country, while the 'chasers' are schooled to jump what is known as
the regulation course."
"Hear, hear!" cried Effie, and Tom went on warmly.
"This high jumping is a trick--and the horses who do it, mustn't on
any account be hunted, or they lose the knack of flinging themselves
over a high bar--and personally I prefer a clever hunter. In fact,
the so-called champion hunter class is a misnomer, and putting the
qualified hunter classes in the evening is a huge mistake. Of course
a hunter ought to be able to jump these fences, as far as height or
width are concerned, but it's no part of a hunter's business to jump
over white fences under the glare of electric light."
"All the same," said Rensslaer, "I confess that I should like to see
the Army devoting itself to the art, as the Italian Army does, and it
would be to the good if private and public schools provided ponies,
and taught the young idea how to ride, as well as how to shoot. A
troop of boy rough-riders would be a lively accompaniment to the
corps of sharp-shooters multiplying under Lord Roberts' organisation.
The Army here, in buying horses, demands from the farmer horses
already highly trained, which is obviously impossible. How different
the behaviour of the Italians and the Belgians! The horses they ride
are almost exclusively Irish. The dealers resident in Ireland are
continually shipping young Irish horses, which go straight to the
colonels of the several regiments, who get them trained; the officers
buy and train their private horses in a similar way, and regard the
education of a horse as one of, if not quite, the best of sports."
"Anyway," grunted Tom Bulteel, "if England has something to learn
from Continental rivals in methods of training, we may find
consolation in the fact that it is from British equine flesh, bone,
and blood that competitors abroad have been able to produce the
splendid animals that are winning the judges' encomiums to-day.
Their clean action in harness, and over the sticks betrays their
British origin, whatever may be the nationality of their owners."
"Bravo, Tom!" cried Effie, and slipped her little hand in his.
"And so I repeat," said Torn sturdily, "that it is not fair to judge
us in a place ringing with noisy demonstrations, that are dead
against a high-class hunter giving his best form. The foreign or
American show hunter is used to such conditions, and the consequence
is, that many a moderate horse gets forward simply on account of his
jumping abilities. Far too much importance is attached to what is
after all trick jumping, and, as I said before, it is by no means
necessary in a hunter."
And so with ups and downs, principally downs with Gay--and her face
as she sat ignored at Chris's side told more than she knew--the time
passed, and the last and "championship" night of the great show
arrived.
It was a scene of extraordinary brilliancy, and even more than the
rest of the spectators, Chris was wrought to the highest pitch of
excitement during the high-jumping contest at the close of the
evening, when gradually twenty-two horses were fined down to two--the
one ridden by the Dorset yeoman, the other by Belgium's champion jump
rider, who had acquitted himself so grandly throughout.
When Lord Lonsdale offered a prize to whichever could clear 7 feet,
and the Belgian's horse came along like lightning, and with a mighty
spring into the air, cleared the obstacle with an inch or two to
spare, Chris felt the blood course like warm milk through his
veins--in fancy he rose to the jump, and the ecstacy, the oneness of
horse and man in those moments, were his.
The Englishman put his horse at the bar, failing at the first
attempt, but succeeding at the second, going over beautifully. They
both cleared 6 feet 9 inches, but neither succeeded at 7 feet, and
were declared tied, the prize being divided, and the two horses
parading round the ring amid a scene of the greatest enthusiasm.
Suddenly Chris turned--in that moment of expansion, he wanted Gay to
share it with him, but she was not there. She and the others had
slipped away without his noticing; no doubt they had all gone down to
the stables, and he rose eagerly to follow them.
He wanted to congratulate Rensslaer on his triumphs, to tell him that
he accepted his offer of St. Swithin's, and if he got no opportunity
of speaking to her to-night, next morning he would call on dear
little Gay and tell her that his love for her had triumphed. If she
had only known it, Chris was proving his right to the title of hero,
for this was his real farewell to the sport he so intensely loved--if
he had seemed to neglect Gay, when she knew the reason, she would
forgive him....