The use of the whip as a means of managing a horse is, unfortunately, too often entirely misunderstood: to hurt, frighten, or coerce with it being seemingly the chief object with many riders. Allowing that all three may at times be necessary—as in the case of vicious horses, for instance—ladies will very rarely find it to be the case, their mounts being, generally speaking, of a gentle and docile type. Leaving, therefore, the abuses of the whip on one side, its uses in the hands of a competent horsewoman are usually reduced to the part which it may be made to fill in helping her to guide her mount on the off side—just as a man’s second leg assists him in doing—and, in like manner, to press him up to his work. This can, of course, be best accomplished by the aid of a stout hunting-crop, carried handle uppermost, as a rule: although there are times when to shift the position of the whip, and press the heaviest part against the horse’s flank, will be found very effectual, particularly when negotiating ugly trappy fences, or turning sharp corners at a brisk trot. For example, when, in the latter case, the turn is to the right, the rider’s body should be bent slightly to the off side of her mount, and her leg be pressed lightly but firmly against his flank on the near side. This preserves an even balance, and will often save a fast flippant trotter from coming right down. When the turn is to the left, the body should be inclined a little that way, while the whip handle is judiciously pressed against the off side, thus preventing the animal’s quarters from swinging too suddenly round.
I may here take occasion to say that corners ought never to be turned without both hands being put to the bridle, and a support given to both sides of the horse; if to the right, the leg the strongest—if to the left, the whip. When the pace is very quick, and the turn is a decidedly sharp one, the horse’s hind legs will need to be brought under him all the quicker, for which reason the body of the rider must sway well with his motion, while the necessary support is, at the same time, given on either side.
I shall conclude my observations about the uses of the whip by saying—use it as little as you can to punish, and as much as you can to aid. Above all things, never take it up in anger, nor for a moment forget that the creature on whom the stroke is about to fall is sensitive to its lightest touch, and is fully capable of being ruled without severity.
The same remarks apply also to the spur—the abuses of which are even more general and lamentable than are those of the whip.
THE HORSE LEARNED TO LOVE ME.
CHAPTER XI.
RIDING ON THE ROAD.
I have hitherto been surmising that your rides have been upon your own horse: one specially purchased for you, and perfectly trained for a lady’s use. If such a state of things could always be ensured, equestrianism would be a safe and delightful pastime for the gentler sex—but, unfortunately, it cannot be so. Ladies who are much in the saddle are called upon often to ride a variety of horses, and under such circumstances their position is an awkward one, if unaccustomed to manage any save thoroughly-trained and well-mannered animals. To have none other for one’s own use is at all times advisable, so far as it can be done, but occasions may arise when you will have to prove your claim to a higher title than that of merely a “nice” or “ladylike” rider. Say, for instance, that you are stopping at a country house, your invitation to which has not been extended to your horse, or yet to your groom, and that there are riding parties every day, which you are invited to join, your host sometimes supplying you with a mount, and a neighbour occasionally offering to lend you one, it is scarcely probable that, having a different animal to carry you every time you go out, you can hope to escape discovering the uncomfortable effects which pernicious training, or subsequent injudicious handling, invariably bring about. To be prepared for these—not to be taken aback by them—to be ready to face every emergency, and overcome every difficulty in the way of equitation—is the true meaning of the word “horsewoman.” It shall be my office, then, in this chapter to endeavour to tell you as concisely as possible how to act (in all cases of ordinary road-riding), when called upon to control horses with whose ways you are not altogether familiar.
In the first place, when your mount is led to the door, be ready in time to go out and inspect him. This you can readily do while the laggards of the party are preparing for their ride. In using the term “inspect,” I do not mean that you are to assume a confident, boastful air, or proceed to make an ostentatious examination, as though nobody knew anything about horse business save yourself. This would only make you appear ridiculous, and be calculated to incur dislike. You should go quietly to your horse’s head, and while affecting to be engaged in caressing him, run a hasty eye over the following points: that the saddle is quite clear of the play of the shoulders, and yet not too far back; that the girths are tight enough, and the surcingle not too loose, although decidedly easier than the girths; that the headstall is sufficiently long, and in every way easy-fitting—the curb-chain the correct length—the lip-strap on—the martingale (if a standing one) of easy length, and if a running, so arranged that the pull of the reins shall be in the proper place—namely, at the top of the withers. If you find nothing to correct, you may account yourself fortunate; if, on the contrary, you perceive that anything is amiss or out of place, signify the same quietly to the groom, and then go indoors, or turn aside, while he rectifies it. There is something positively unkind in standing staring at a servant while he attends to matters which you have pointed out to him for correction. Ten to one, if you do so, he will grow confused beneath your scrutiny, and will leave his task imperfectly accomplished. Consideration for others ought at all times to be a part of your religion. Give no unnecessary trouble; do as much for yourself as you possibly can; never speak harshly to even the humblest; strive to put everybody at ease; look away from an embarrassed person until he has recovered his composure; and if you detect a failure or shortcoming in a servant’s work, tell him gently about it—quietly, and without impatience—and it will probably be rectified very much sooner than if you scolded or stormed. For my own part, I have no liking for grooms at all, and regard most of them as the veriest eye servers; but I know there are times when they are unjustly blamed. In this matter I once got a useful lesson at an English country house. My horse was brought to the door without a lip-strap, and with things in general so very indifferently turned out that, being in a hurry, I got provoked, and began to say more than my custom usually was. The groom, whose eyes were cast down, looked pitifully at me as he answered, “Forgive me to-day, ma’am, please. My little child died this morning!” And the great tears rolled down the poor fellow’s cheeks, and I felt grieved for having spoken impatiently to him when his heart was so sore. It was a lesson not to be forgotten, for there are times with ourselves when sickness or trouble prevents us from attending properly to our tasks; and servants are liable to similar weaknesses.