But early in April, when it became known that Mr. Rarey had tamed Cruiser,[20-*] the most vicious stallion in England, “who could do more fighting in less time than any horse in the world,” and that he had brought him to London on the very day after, that he first backed him and had ridden him within three hours after the first interview, slow conviction swelled to enthusiasm. The list filled up rapidly.
The school in Kinnerton Street, to which Mr. Rarey was obliged to remove, was crowded, the excitement increasing with each lesson. On the day that Cruiser was exhibited for the first time, long before the doors were open, the little back street was filled with a fashionable mob, including ladies of the highest rank. An admission by noble non-subscribers with notes, gold, and cheques in hands, was begged for with a polite insinuating humility that was quite edifying. A hatful of ten-guinea subscriptions was thrust upon the unwilling secretary at the door with as much eagerness as if he had been the allotter of shares in a ten per cent railway in the day of Hudsonian guarantees. And it must be observed that this crowd included among the mere fashion-mongers almost every distinguished horseman and hunting-man in the three kingdoms.
It is quite too late now to attempt to depreciate a system the value of which has been repeatedly and openly acknowledged by authorities above question. As to the “secret,” the subscribers must have known that it was impossible that a system that required so much space, and involved so much noise, could long remain a secret.
The Earl of Jersey, so celebrated in this century as a breeder of race-horses, in the last century as a rider to hounds, stood through a long lesson, and was as much delighted as his son the Honourable Frederick Villiers, Master of the Pytchley Hounds. Sir Tatton Sykes of Sledmere, perhaps the finest amateur horseman that ever rode a race, whose equestrian performances on the course and in the hunting-field date back more than sixty years, was as enthusiastic in his approval as the young Guardsman who, fortified by Mr. Rarey’s lessons, mastered a mare that had defied the efforts of all the farriers of the Household Cavalry.
In a word, the five-hundred list was filled, and overflowed, the subscribers were satisfied, and the responsibility of Messrs. Tattersall as stakeholders for the public ceased, and the Secretary and Treasurer to the fund, having wound up the accounts and retired, the connection between Mr. Rarey and the Messrs. Tattersall resolved itself into the use of an office at Hyde Park Corner.
The London subscription list had passed eleven hundred names, and, in conjunction with the subscription received in Yorkshire, Liverpool, Manchester, Dublin, and Paris, besides private lessons at £25 each, had realised upwards of £20,000 for Mr. Rarey and his partner, when the five-hundred secrecy agreement was extinguished by the re-publication of the little American pamphlet already mentioned.
It was high time that it should, for, while Mr. Rarey had been handsomely paid for his instruction, the more scrupulous of his subscribers were unable to practise his lessons for want of a place where they could work in secrecy.
But although the re-publication of Mr. Rarey’s American pamphlet virtually absolved his subscribers from the agreement which he gave up formally a few days later in his letter to the Times, it is quite absurd to assert that the little pamphlet teaches the Art of Horse-Taming as now practised by Mr. Rarey. Certainly no one but a horseman skilled in the equitation of schools could do much with a horse without great danger of injuring the animal and himself, if he had no other instruction than that contained in Mr. Rarey’s clever, original, but vague chapters.
In the following work I shall endeavour to fill up the blanks in Mr. Rarey’s sketch, and with the help of pictures and diagrams, show how a cool determined man or boy may break in any colt, and make him a docile hack, harness horse, or hunter; stand still, follow, and obey the voice almost as much as the reins.