Riding for Ladies: With Hints on the Stable

CHAPTER I.. Ought Children to Ride?

OUGHT CHILDREN TO RIDE?

The “Common Sense of Riding,” which formed the title under which these writings were first furnished to the public in the columns of a London journal, supplied a fitting heading for the articles at the time, very little concerning stable or general horse management being appended to the instructions offered to equestrians. The expediency of adding to the work formed a necessity for altering the title; but the original one, if used here, would set forth precisely the manner in which I am about to deal with the subject that I have taken in hand.

To discard preamble, and plunge at once in medias res, is usually the wisest and most common-sense manner of coming at and coping with the difficulties surrounding crotchety questions: and surely one of the foremost in the category of such is the often-heard inquiry, “How shall I best learn to ride?”

To offer instruction on any subject to persons who fancy they have no need of it, is at all times mere waste of time and trouble. My remarks, therefore--embracing, as it is meant they shall, a variety of matters especially interesting to ladies--will be addressed throughout to those only who really feel their need of friendly counsel, who are anxious to learn, and are willing to benefit by such hints and instructions as my varied experiences of horses and horse-management enable me to give them.

Before entering fully upon my pleasant task, I would say that although many men, and very many youths, may learn a useful lesson or two from matters upon which I shall touch, or possibly deal with in detail, my observations will be directed chiefly to ladies, my desire being to take each separately, as it were, into my confidence, and speak to her less as teacher to pupil than as friend to friend.

It seems to me that to adopt the homely pronouns “you” and “I” will be more convenient and concise than adhering to the stereotyped and old-fashioned terms “the reader,” and “the author”--modes of expression which are as a rule unnecessarily formal, and most uncomfortably cold. When, therefore, I begin my subject, I shall suppose that you are a novice, with but a very shadowy idea of the subject on which you wish to be enlightened; but when I say “novice,” I do not necessarily mean a child. Indeed, I hope that you are not one, for it is widely known that I object very strongly to children riding, my reasons for doing so being founded on the surest and most common-sense principles. The point is one which has of late years led me into discussions with very many high-class authorities on equitation, but I have never for a moment swerved from my fixed opinions, and many of my keenest opponents have, from time to time, ranged themselves on my side.

It is indeed a matter of surprise to me that anybody possessed of even moderate reasoning capacity can advocate infantile equestrianism. The two arguments which defenders of it make their strong points, namely, that it is “splendid exercise,” and that it imparts a courage which is beneficial in after life, can, while admitted, be counterbalanced by so many genuine drawbacks and objections, that their boasted efficacy runs considerable risk of being regarded as a thing of nought. Before, however, dealing with the con’s of the case, let us take up the pro’s in rotation. It is splendid exercise. Granted; but rolling hoop is quite as good, while ball-playing, tennis, badminton, and every other game that sets the blood in motion and calls the muscles into active play, may be styled equally beneficial. All the advantages which are derivable from exercise--and they are many--can be had without riding; this is an admitted fact; and, being so, it serves to sweep away suppositious inferences respecting the superiority of equine practice, or training, over that of any other sort. So much for the oft-quoted plea of “exercise.”

With regard to the question of courage, it cannot be denied that a certain and useful amount of confidence is imparted to all young persons who participate largely in pursuits which have a smack of daring or danger about them. Watch, for example, the peasant girls who inhabit the country districts of Ireland. They climb steep mountains, descend jagged cliffs, run barefooted along sharp ledges and high rugged walls, without thought of danger, or trace of fear. And why? Because from childhood they have been accustomed to it. It goes, then, without saying that early practice does impart an amount of bravado, which may in later life be found useful on occasion; but, having acknowledged this, I feel that I have done my entire duty towards the advocates of a system to which I strongly object, and I shall, therefore, proceed, in all fairness, to demolish their theories by a clear and simple setting forth of the evils which are, in my opinion, attendant upon early equestrian pursuits.

Few persons will be found to dispute the fact that a child on horseback, especially a girl, runs at least as many risks as a grown person. She may at any moment be jerked off, run away with, overpowered by the strength or temper of her mount, cannoned against by awkward or reckless riders, or subjected to the unpleasantness of discovering that the animal she herself is riding is given to slipping, stumbling, falling completely under her, or behaving in some unseemly manner that is entirely beyond her powers to check or control. To these dangers and discomforts--as well as to many others with which equestrians, old and young, are uncomfortably familiar--she is at all times liable to be exposed, and, this being an admitted truth, I ask whether it can for a moment be asserted that a child is as capable as an adult of coping with such risks? The answer must be “No.” The perils are the same for both--while the weaker side is absolutely unable to grapple with them when they arise. I speak from experience, and strive to teach from it also. Having been largely associated with juvenile riders, especially in country parts of England, the knowledge which I have picked up from their absolute want of it has proved most fitting and serviceable to me when offering hints and instructions to others of similar age. Five years ago I had the unhappiness of seeing a pretty child who was riding with me seriously hurt, through her horse falling under her while traversing an extremely rutty road. He made what is called a double stumble, and had her hands possessed the cunning, or her arms the strength, to have pulled him together after he had made the first blunder, he would undoubtedly not have gone down; but he was a slovenly animal,--one that wanted “collecting” and keeping well in hand: two things of which my tender little companion knew nothing whatever; nor was she capable of putting them in practice, even had it been otherwise.

About the same time I saw another bright-eyed little maiden run away with over the “breezy downs.” Her horse, fresh and frolicsome, started with mine at a light canter, and for awhile we kept nicely together; but presently--after a quarter of a mile or so--her mount began to romp with his head, and finally breaking into a gallop, made off at terrific speed, lashing the damp turf from beneath his flying hoofs, and laying back his wicked ears until they rested flat upon his neck. I knew that the youngster he was carrying had abundance of pluck, even without any very distinct knowledge of the art of riding, so I shouted to her with all my might to sit close and leave him his head (we were going up hill at the time), and to give him the whip when he tired, which I knew he very soon would do, with a long, heavy incline in front of him. I might as well have spoken to the wind. Terror, and consciousness of her own ignorance robbed the child of her wits: she gripped the pommel with her right hand, tugged at the reins with her left, and, after swaying about in a manner that makes me sick to think of, finally fell off, and was picked up bruised and bleeding, and so entirely unnerved as to render it a matter of extreme difficulty to persuade her ever to ride again. As for the horse, he was not personally any the worse of his escapade, but, having conquered his rider, he was ever afterwards rightfully considered an unsafe animal for a lady to mount.

I have seen children over and over again subjected to the most fearful risks through riding horses that were too much for them. It is so easy for a girl to be overpowered,--and, once she is so, good-bye for ever to all or any pleasure in riding the animal who has been her conqueror. He will always remember his victory, and presume upon it.

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