Having thus considered the subject of instructing an imperfectly-broken horse to walk well upon the road—in such a manner as shall gain for him the reputation of being a good roadster, or covert hack—we will now say a few words about trotting. When you want an animal to change from a walk to a trot, signify your wish to him by a light movement of the bridle in his mouth, a pressure of your leg and whip-handle, and an indication of your meaning by a slight rising in the stirrup. When he begins to go, keep him thoroughly well collected, but not on any account too tightly reined in. Timid equestrians do themselves and their mounts great injustice by fancying that a tight grip of the bridle, and consequent shortening of the horse’s head, is in any way calculated to ensure their safety. It is exactly the contrary way. Allow somebody to rein back your own head and neck, and then attempt to walk down an unknown staircase, or go in and out among obstacles that you cannot see. Ten to one you will make a blunder, and come down; whereas, had you been left your head, your progress would in all probability have been perfectly easy and safe. I hope I shall succeed in making my meaning distinctly understood in this matter, because it really is a most important one. I just want to illustrate the difference between permitting an animal to go all abroad (or what Tom Cannon calls “slummucking”)—and reining him in so very tightly that he cannot see where he is expected to plant his feet. On your complete knowledge of this essential subject, one-half, if not more, of your success as a horsewoman must inevitably depend, and in my anxiety that you should grasp the meaning of it, I may, perhaps, be found fault with for referring to it too often, or for speaking of it in too homely a fashion. This is, I am aware, an age of false refinement: one in which a writer has to grapple with extraordinary difficulties, being stigmatised as “coarse” when he ventures to set forth home and useful truths, and “vulgar” when he writes humorously or introduces a spice of fun. Now, it is not my way to care in the least whether or not such terms are applied to me by outsiders (my friends can judge for themselves)—but I would a good deal rather any day be a “vulgar” practical writer, doing some good in my generation, than a “refined” useless one, and I think it necessary to make reference to the matter in this place, because I have a great deal yet to say on subjects connected with the one on which I am writing, and if I am to dress up my sentences in flowers and satin ribbons, instead of suffering the plain meaning of them to appear, I may go on writing for many months to come, and yet fail to make myself properly understood in the end.
You must bear in mind that the trot is the horse’s natural pace, and that when not overpressed he will go further and with less fatigue to himself when regulated to it, than at either a canter or gallop. At the same time, he must not on any account be urged beyond the limit of his powers, for such a course is not only cruel, but dangerous—inasmuch as an animal going a hard pace cannot, if he makes a mistake, recover his balance as rapidly as if proceeding at the even rate of eight, or from that to ten miles an hour. I consider the latter excellent going indeed; too fast, in fact, unless the remainder of your party happen to be as well mounted as yourself—for nothing on earth is more indicative of bad taste than riding perpetually in front of those who are in company with you.
I am not, as a rule, at all in favour of allowing a horse to break from a trot to a canter, or from one pace of any kind to another, but there are times—when going long distances, for instance—at which a humane rider will permit her mount to do so by way of rest and change, rather than keep him perpetually going at precisely the same pace, in order to gain for him the name of an exceptionally fine trotter.
Your rise and fall in the saddle should be light, graceful, straight, easy, and accurately in time with the movements of your horse’s forelegs. By attending to this rule when riding on the road, you will save yourself and your mount a great deal of unnecessary fatigue.
If you find, when trotting, that your horse is going in an uncomfortable, one-sided manner, giving now and again a strange sort of cow kick, you may be confident that the saddle is hurting him. In such a case dismount at once, and if at all close to home, put the bridle over your arm and lead him the rest of the journey. Should it happen, however, when you are a long distance away, you must only take him very quietly indeed, until you are near enough to walk the remainder of the way yourself.
It is on just such emergencies that the practice, which I have so staunchly recommended, of wearing comfortable easy-fitting boots, comes most usefully in. I have seen ladies remain seated upon the backs of most palpably suffering horses, simply because they were absolutely incapable of walking even half a mile in the boots which they had donned for riding.
Never allow your horse to get into a jog-trot when in company with a riding party, or in the park—but remember that it is a most valuable pace at which to bring home a tired hunter. A very light easy canter, wherever the road is soft, or where there is sufficient grass by the side of it to take the jar off his feet, or else what is known as the “jog,” will be the most humane way of getting him safely to his stable.
Many lady riders imagine that cantering is a safer as well as a pleasanter pace at which to travel, than trotting (whether fast or slow) can ever be. This is really a great mistake; trotting is the safest pace at which a horse can go, provided that he is sound-footed. I shall strive to explain the reason in a few words. When cantering, the off fore and off hind leg are advanced together, leaving the others in the rear; thus the diagonal legs of the two pairs are not set down simultaneously. If you listen to a perfectly sound horse trotting on a road, you will hear four even beats; but in the canter it may be only two or three, according as the animal’s weight is adjusted. When trotting he makes his diagonal legs serve him turn about, so that when one pair is going forward, the other is sustaining his weight in an equal, or perfectly even manner; not in a one-sided way, as is the case in the canter. A sound-footed horse, trotting at a regular pace, always has two diagonal supports under him, and two coming to their assistance, for which very reason fast trotting is a dangerous pace when a leg or foot happens to be unsound, or when a slovenly motion is indulged in.
A horse trotting quickly should never be pulled up in a hurry. You should bring him to a slow trot by shortening the reins, and then to a walk by sitting down in the saddle, and talking to him in a language that he will very readily learn to comprehend.
In reining a horse back, you must keep in mind the fact that he cannot move at all if you drag him so suddenly backward that he gets both hind-legs under him together. It is a revolting and heartrending sight to see the way in which draymen beat unfortunate horses about the breasts and bellies by way of punishment for not backing heavy loads far enough, when, in reality, the wretched animals are in such position that they cannot by any possibility move their extended hind-legs. I saw a cruel instance of this in Liverpool a few months ago: a carter savagely beating his horse, a crowd of persons looking on, and one or two among them abusing the man in no measured terms; yet not one had the sense to tell him that if he would only lead the horse quietly forward, even a step or two, and then back him, doing the same thing every time that he came to a stop, the desired object would very soon be attained—which it was, as soon as the proper method had been tried. This is just the principle of reining back. The horse must be collected, and brought square on his legs every time that he resists, and be again brought under the influence of the bridle, for backing purposes, when he has come to an even stand.