The Horse and His Rider

by Sir Francis Bond Head

All of a sudden, however, just as if a bayonet had been run into him, he struggles to rise.

To do so it is necessary that all his feet should take hold of the ground. This they are prevented from doing by the rider's boots, which, operating as a handspike under the body, keep it in a horizontal position, thereby causing the four legs, like two pairs of blacksmith's sledge-hammers, to continue to strike heavily towards each other.

Between them lies, acting in this little tragedy the part of Anvil, the poor rider, who can only avoid the hard blows of two fore iron shoes, by wincing from them to within the reach of two hind ones.

This violent struggle eventually ends by the horse rising, leaving on the field of battle, slightly, seriously, or desperately wounded, his master, whom he never intended to hurt.

In the hunting field, the bent position in the saddle produces equally unpleasant results. On man and horse coming cheerily to a fence, with what mathematicians call "an unknown quantity" on the other side, if the rider sits justly on his saddle, it is the horse and not he that receives the concussion of any fall that may ensue, simply because the spring of his animal in taking the leap had thrown his shoulders backwards, and consequently his head out of danger; whereas the nose of the gentleman who had been riding alongside of him in the bent attitude of a note of interrogation, is seen to plough into its mother earth the instant the muzzle of his horse impinges upon it.

For exactly the same reasons, in every description of fall (and no volume would be large enough to contain them all), similar results occur; and yet there is no predicament in which "Toady" appears to greater disadvantage, and so keenly feels it, than when, in following the hounds, he has to descend a very precipitous and rather slippery grass hill.

If a horse be but properly dealt with, he can gallop down a turf hill with nearly as much rapidity as along a race-course. A tea-table would stand ill at ease on the declivity, because its limbs are immoveable; but a quadruped, by throwing all his legs forwards and his body backwards, has the power to adjust himself, with mathematical precision, to almost any descent.

To insure his safety, however, it is essential that he should be encouraged, by a loose rein, to carry his head as low as possible, to enable him to take care of his feet, and in case of treading on a rolling-stone to recover his balance by throwing it up. Now, when in this position, if the rider, following the instinct and the example of the horse, throws his weight backwards—in fact, if from the saddle the backs of the two animals are separated from each other by only a very small angle, both can descend the hill together at considerable speed without the smallest danger. The only embarrassment the rider has to contend against is an over-caution on the part of the horse, amounting to fear, which induces him to try to take the slope diagonally, very likely to result in the poor animal slipping up on his side. In keeping his head straight, however, care must be taken not to induce him to raise it up; and when this little difficulty is overcome, no other of any sort or kind remains to impede a safe and rapid descent.

Seated on his saddle, in the attitude we have described, that admirable rider Jack Shirley, whipper-in to the Tedworth hunt, with a large open clasp-knife in his mouth, was one day observed fixing a piece of whipcord to his lash, while following his hounds at a slapping pace, down hill, his reins lying nearly loose on old "Gadsby's" neck.

On the other hand when a gentleman, however fearless he may be, sitting at an angle of 45°, like a 13-inch mortar on its bed, attempts to ride down the steep declivity described, the afflictions that befall him are really piteous, for the instant his horse's fore legs sink considerably lower than the hind ones, he feels that unless he holds on very tightly, he must inevitably pitch over the bows of the vessel that is carrying him. To maintain his equilibrium he therefore pulls a little at his curb-bit, which not only raises his horse's head till it nearly touches his nose, but throws the animal and the weight he carries into such a false position, that it becomes difficult and dangerous to advance. The restrained quadruped, impatient to follow the horses before him, yet altogether out of gear, on every little twitch at his bridle keeps chucking up his head, until the rider, who a moment ago expected to fall over his ears, now feels that he is going to glide backwards over his tail, which is nearly touching the hill. In short, the poor horse is resting on his hocks instead of his hoofs, with his fore feet barely touching the ground.