When going straight at a leap, sit firmly in the centre of your saddle, your head well up, your eyes looking right between your horse’s ears, the snaffle reins in both hands, with just a slight feeling upon your mount’s mouth, without any attempt at holding him back or clinging by the bridle to secure your own safety. Never on any account contract the habit of clutching short at the reins, or at any part of the saddle, in order to help you in preserving your balance—nor should you throw up your hands, which must in all instances be kept low and steady. When approaching a leap, bend your body slightly backwards from the waist up, at the same time keeping your seat firmly in the middle of the saddle, that you may not be disconcerted by the action of the loin-muscles of the horse. The degree to which this “leaning back” is to be carried must of course depend altogether upon the size and nature of the leap to be accomplished; for example, at a big-drop, or down-jump, a good rider will almost touch the horse’s croup, but you must never lose sight of the fact that it is the shoulders that are to be bent flexibly backwards (returning to an upright position on landing), and not any part of the body that lies below the waist.
The two great secrets of leaping are, to sit like a centaur while your waist and shoulders adapt themselves pliantly to the movements of your horse—and never to interfere with his mouth. Plenty of headroom has always been my cry; I believe that where it is attended to there is very rarely an accident. Horses, even those that are not very highly trained, are marvellously clever, and will generally put their feet in the right places if allowed to see where they are to put them, but a rider might just as well blindfold a horse at once—tie a thick bandage across his eyes—and then expect him to fence safely, as draw the reins so tight when he is rising that even if not absolutely thrown down by the action, he is prevented from seeing where he is expected to land. A horse cannot possibly do his work well or generously when compelled to carry his rider with his mouth—nor can a rider derive the pleasure that he is seeking while sitting altogether wrongly in the saddle.
It is quite beautiful to see the way in which young horses fence when their mouths are not interfered with. I have often taken a raw youngster out over a trappy country, with only leading reins on him, or long ropes, and have jumped alongside of him over the little ditches, transported with delight at the manner in which he gathered his haunches under him, and the clever way in which, on landing, he planted his feet. It is really charming to watch them, and most sad to think and know that by-and-by, when some professedly fine, but in reality totally ignorant rider gets upon their backs, every second fence or so will witness a cropper, and the young, fleet-limbed, spirited creatures will be beaten, and pulled at, and called “brutes,” and sworn at too, as though it were not the clumsy hands at their mouths that were in reality bringing them to grief.
Good hunters are, times out of number, thrown down by their riders. A lady, for instance, borrows a mount for a day, and hears from his owner (who perhaps knows very little indeed about horsemanship) that he’s a “capital goer, but wants a little lifting at his fences.” I have heard that idiotic expression made use of hundreds, nay, thousands of times. Well, out she goes; the animal, fresh and buoyant, starts away at a nailing pace, and when not interfered with goes skying over obstacles from which others are turning away,—but the half-frightened rider on his back has that word “lifting” imprinted upon her sensitive brain, and the moment the horse takes off at the first big fence, up go her hands with a sudden haul at the bridle, and the animal, surprised and thrown off his balance by the action, lands unevenly, if he lands at all, and very likely gives her a severe fall.
“HI, OVER! MY BEAUTY.”
There is not one on earth who is more against permitting any “slummucking,” or romping, or going “abroad,” than I am myself; to keep a horse well collected has always been my teaching; leave him his head when coming up to a fence; let him stretch his neck to see what it is; keep a light, very light, feeling upon the snaffle when he makes his effort; and, as he lands, but not till then, give him a gentle support with both hands—especially if the jump is a very big one, in order that he may not “peck.” Bear in mind, however, that if you attempt this support too soon—when he is in the air, for instance, or in fact until he needs it—you will undoubtedly throw him down. Practice will teach you all these things far better than anything else, but a careful study of them should not on any account be despised.
Horses do not as a rule like schooling. I believe they abhor it; there is not any kind of excitement about it—no emulation, no company, nothing, in short, to keep up the “go,”—therefore I maintain that more falls are to be had when practising in this way (owing to the fact that animals will not jump so generously as when actually going the pace), than are ever to be met with in the hunting-field. Still, it must occasionally be done, especially where young hunters are to be kept in practice—and I strongly advise you to undertake the doing of it yourself, rather than entrust your favourites to a heavy-handed groom, who will rattle the lives half out of them, and cram them at their fences in a manner calculated to spoil them utterly for your own subsequent use.
Never believe anybody who tells you that the best equestrians sit forward when their horses jump, and backward when they land. Such is really not the case at all. In some instances they may have begun by doing so—taught probably by a military riding-master to think it the proper thing—but one or two sounding knocks upon the nose or in the middle of the forehead, received through inability to regulate the precise time for the two distinct movements, have taught them to discard the theory as nonsensical, which it most certainly is.