Riding for Ladies: With Hints on the Stable

by Mrs. Power O'Donoghue

I cannot help believing that bitting is generally much too severely carried out. The most cruel curbs are used by ignorant persons, whereas there are really very few horses who cannot be done much more with by dropping the curb rein altogether, and riding on the snaffle only. Ladies pull and work their horses’ mouths, and then wonder that the horses pull them in return. It is a great mistake. Hundreds of animals are made thoroughly unruly by undue use of the curb, and so much evil have I seen accrue from it, that I strongly recommend all young riders to try riding with the snaffle only, and to keep the curb rein hanging loosely over the little finger, so that it may in an instant be taken up if necessity demands, which I am confident, however, will not very often be the case.

Some time ago I rode a mare for a friend who was very desirous of ascertaining whether the animal was a fit one to carry a lady with safety. I don’t believe she meant to imperil my safety in any way, in order to secure her own. I simply offered to try the mare, and the proposal was accepted. Terrible things had been said of the animal’s want of training, evil temper, and so forth, and the groom who brought her to me was evidently extremely nervous. He told me, the very first thing, that the mare had never in her life done any saddle work, except with “a desperately wild young gentleman,” who had bitted her severely, and yet found her most difficult to manage. Therein lay the secret, I thought to myself; but I said nothing, and the maligned quadruped and I started on our trial, the groom most earnestly imploring me to keep a firm hold of the curb. I found that she hung desperately upon her bridle, kept her head between her knees with a strong, determined, heavy pull—a dead one, in fact—upon the bit, and went along with a rough, jerky action, which had me very soon tired out. The Editor of the Sporting and Dramatic News had volunteered to accompany me, in order to see the trial, and when we got into the Row and set our horses going, the brute nearly dragged my arms out in her canter. The tug she had upon the bridle was quite terrific, and, evidently prepared for a fight, she laid back her ears and shook her wicked head angrily. I rode her from Palace Gate to the Corner in this manner—not pulling one ounce against her, and yielding very slightly to her in her stride. By the time we turned she had given up fighting, and I was enabled for the first time to speak to my companion. I then dropped the curb, and rode her entirely upon the snaffle. The effect was magical; she at once lifted her head, ceased pulling altogether, and went along in a pleasant, joyous canter—going well up to her bridle, but not attempting any liberties whatever. In less than an hour’s time I was riding her with one hand, petting and making much of her with the other—an attention which, as a pleasing novelty, she evidently much appreciated. Finding her slightly intractable during the ride homeward, I once more lightly took up the curb. It maddened her in a moment. She turned wildly round, twisted about with a rotatory motion most bewildering and unpleasant, ran me against a cart, and behaved altogether so outrageously that it required my very utmost skill, confidence, and temper to restore her equanimity, and steer her safely to our destination. On dismounting I observed to the groom who had come to fetch her, that considering the amount of excitement through which she had passed, it was wonderful that she had not sweated. His answer was that she was always fed upon cooked food (a pet theory of mine, to which I shall devote a chapter by-and-by), and added that the horse which he himself was riding—a remarkably fine four-year-old—derived its chief sustenance from boiled barley.

I shall now close my chapter upon bitting. That it has been a horribly dry one I cannot hope to find contradicted, but I felt that its instructions ought to come in just where I have introduced them, and they will be better understood, no doubt, when the pupil shall have learned thoroughly how to ride. No lady’s education can be called anything like complete (with regard to equine matters) until she perfectly understands the principles of bitting, and can, moreover, saddle and bridle her own horses without the aid of a groom. I shall give instructions concerning these matters in another chapter.

CHAPTER VIII.
SADDLING.

The choice of a lady’s side-saddle is a most important matter, and ought not to be treated in any other light; yet with multitudes of equestrians it seems to be regarded as almost a thing of nought. “Look out for a second-hand saddle for me, there’s a dear!” writes a country lady to a town friend; “I am actually going to ride!” And away goes the town lady on a search through alley and slum, and comes home the triumphant purchaser of an awful instrument, which gives a sore back to the bearer of it in no time at all, and is then sent to be stuffed, coming back to its owner all the worse for the process, owing to the fact that the stuffing has, in the first instance, been entirely over done. Articles of this description never give any satisfaction, and would be dear if purchased at half-a-crown. Economise as you will in other directions—put up with cheap hats, habits, boots, and gloves, if you cannot really afford any better,—for, odious though they be, they can prove injurious to yourself alone,—but let your saddle be of the best. Go to a first-class maker; get measured as accurately as a man does for a pair of hunting breeches—tell him that you need the best materials and very best workmanship—and if he knows his art he will require no further directions. It is almost superfluous to repeat that a well-made side-saddle should be level-seated, and should have no perceptible dip, or sinking, from front to cantle. It ought to be amply long for the rider, and the points of the tree should fit close to the horse’s sides behind the shoulder-blades. I object to stitching, on either near or off side, as being unworkmanlike; but an unpractised rider may have the seat of her saddle covered with buckskin, which will afford her a more secure grip than she can obtain from the ordinary slippery leather. The gullet-plate should either be dispensed with altogether (as mentioned in a former chapter), or be sufficiently arched to prevent its pressing on the horse’s withers. I prefer the former plan, and have found it answer admirably. The up-pommel should be barely high enough to afford a secure catch for the right leg. When higher than this it sticks up like a horn beneath the habit, and is extremely disfiguring.

The leaping-head should be movable. I do not mean that it should merely turn round and round, or bend downwards with a hinge, but it ought to be capable of being placed higher or lower, according as the rider may desire. This can be accomplished by having two, or even three, holes made for it within varied distances of one another: a plan which will be found of especial benefit in cases where a saddle is purchased with a view to more than one lady making use of it—and a tired rider will frequently find it a great boon. Of course, in such case, the leaping-head must be a screw one, a thing to which I know many ladies object on the ground that it gets out of order. It really ought not to do so,—nor does it, except when entrusted altogether to a groom, who keeps unscrewing it every day as if for mere pastime. It should not be touched at all, except when necessary for cleaning purposes, or to lubricate it with a little oil, and it will be well then to do it yourself, unless your servant happens to be an exceptionally good and trustworthy one, or that you are too grand in your ideas to put your hand to anything in the shape of work. I hope, however, that I am not writing for any such silly person. You should never be above looking after everything connected with your own riding gear. It will not lessen your dignity one whit: rather the contrary—for your servants will then see that you are not a simpleton, and will respect you accordingly. The lady who shudders at a duster, and wonders where puddings grow, is in reality not an atom more to be despised than is the foolish-minded equestrian who thinks it is inelegant to know anything about the conduct or management of her own stable. I like to see a woman able and willing to put her hand to everything that comes in her way, without feeling in the least lowered by it. One of the most perfectly ladylike women whom I have ever met, on one occasion groomed and fed her own hunter, when the stableman who had charge of him was found tipsy, on her return one wintry evening from a long day with the hounds; and she did it, too, before ever removing her habit. Sense and humanity combined.

I may add, before passing to another portion of my subject, that where a screw-pommel is used it will be found a wise plan to have it made with the thread of the screw reversed; by which I mean that the pommel should turn from left to right, in place of the ordinary way. By this arrangement the left knee pressing against it serves to fix it all the more firmly, instead of, as is usual, misplacing it.

I am often asked what ought to be the weight of a side-saddle, and what the size. Much must of course depend upon the dimensions of the rider. About eighteen pounds is, or ought to be, the average weight of an ordinary saddle, although my own were much lighter. I do not, however, see that there is very much to be gained by riding in too light a saddle. A few pounds one way or the other can make little difference (except in racing) to a good horse, and light saddles are sometimes apt to give sore backs.

With regard to size, I consider that a lady of moderate height—say five feet three, or thereabouts—ought not to purchase a saddle less than nineteen inches long. Any good maker will, however, give the proper proportions.