Beatrice M. Jenkins.
CYCLING.
By Mrs E. Robins Pennell.
"There should be nothing so much a man's business as his amusements." Substitute woman for man, and I, for my part, cannot quarrel with Mr Stevenson's creed. Our amusements, after all, are the main thing in life, and of these I have found cycling the most satisfactory. As a good healthy tonic, it should appeal to the scrupulous woman who cannot even amuse herself without a purpose; it has elements of excitement to attract the more adventurous. It is a pleasure in itself, the physical exercise being its own reward; it is a pleasure in what it leads to, since travelling is the chief end of the cycle. That women do not yet appreciate it at its true worth, that, as a rule, they would still rather play tennis or pull a boat than ride a bicycle, is their own great loss.
Cycling is the youngest of woman's sports. It did not come in until the invention of the tricycle, or three-wheeled machine; necessarily it was out of the question for anyone wearing skirts, divided or otherwise, to mount the tall bicycle, or "ordinary." In 1878 tricycles, invented at a still earlier date, were first practically advertised, and one of the authors of the book on cycling in the Badminton Library says, that already in that year "tradition told of a lady rider, who, in company with her husband, made an extended tour along the south coast; and in quiet lanes and private gardens feminine riders began to initiate themselves into the pastime." But, despite the courage of their pioneer, not until a few years later did they desert private lanes for public roads, and then it was only in small numbers. Had they been more enterprising, a serious hindrance in their way was the fact that at first makers refused to understand their requirements. The early tricycles made for us were meant to be very ladylike, but they were sadly inappropriate. It was really the tandem which did most to increase the popularity of the sport among women. The sociable, where the riders sit side by side, was the first of the double machines, but it is an instrument of torture rather than of pleasure, as whoever has tried to work it knows to his or her cost. Its width makes it awkward and cumbersome even on good roads, and when there is a head wind—and the wind always blows in one's face—the treadmill is child's play in comparison. The tandem, on which, as the name explains, one rider sits behind the other, takes up no more space than a single tricycle and offers no more resistance to the wind, and this means far less work. Besides, for many women to have a man to attend to the steering and braking, in those early days was not exactly a drawback; but even with the tandem progress was not rapid. I remember my first experience in 1884, when I practised on a Coventry "Rotary" in the country round Philadelphia, and felt keenly that a woman on a cycle was still a novelty in the United States. I came to England that same summer, but the women riders whom I met on my runs through London and the Southern Counties, I could count on the fingers of one hand. The Humbers had then brought out their tandem, and for it my husband and I exchanged our "Rotary," and started off in the autumn for Italy, where we rode from Florence to Rome. I have never made such a sensation in my life, and, for my own comfort, I hope I may never make such another: I ride to amuse myself, not the public. It was clear that Italian women were more behindhand than the English or Americans. There are, nowadays, more women riders in France, probably, than in any country, but in the summer of 1885, on the road from Calais to Switzerland, by Sterne's route, I was scarce accepted as an everyday occurrence.
Single tricycles improved with every year, and the introduction of the direct-steerer, or well-known "Cripper" type, assured their popularity. More attention being paid by makers to women's machines, more women were seen on the roads. Then came the greatest invention of all, the "Woman's Safety." A certain benevolent Mr Sparrow, had, some years before, in 1880 to be accurate, built a woman's bicycle, a high one with the little wheel in front, something like the American "Star"; but the awkwardness of mounting and dismounting made it impracticable. Men had been riding the dwarf bicycle for two or three years before one was introduced with a frame that made it as suitable and possible for women. How near this brings us to the present, is proved by the fact that in the Badminton book, published in 1887, though there is a chapter on "Tricycling for Ladies," there is nothing about bicycling for them. I experimented in 1889 with a tandem safety, on which the front seat was designed for women, and then the single safety, with a dropped instead of a diamond frame, was already in the market. But it had made slight headway. In America it grew more rapidly in favour. The average road there is worse than here, and therefore the one track—the bicycle's great advantage—was much sooner appreciated. Cycling for women has never become fashionable in the United States, but, in proportion, a far greater number of American women ride, and with almost all the safety is the favourite mount. In France also the sport is more popular with women than in Great Britain, and one might almost say that it is the safety which has made it so. Riding through Prussia, Saxony and Bavaria in the summer of 1891, I met but two women cyclists, and they both rode safeties. In England, however, women, until very recently, have seemed absurdly conservative in this matter; they clung to the three wheels, as if to do so were the one concession that made their cycling proper. A few of the more radical—"wild women" Mrs Lynn Linton would call them—saw what folly this was, and many have now become safety riders; but not the majority. Only the other day, in Bushey Park, I met a large club on their Saturday afternoon run; half the members were women, but not one was on a bicycle. This, I know, is but a single isolated instance, but it is fairly typical.
And yet the safety is the machine of all others, which, were my advice asked, I would most care to recommend. And I would have the wheels fitted with cushion tyres—the large rubber tyre with a small hole down the centre—or, better still, with pneumatics, the tyres that are inflated with air. Both deaden vibration. The latter necessitate carrying an air-pump and a repairing kit, for if the rubber be cut or punctured, as frequently happens, the air, of course, escapes at once, and the cut or puncture must be mended and the tube blown up again, which means trouble. But the many improvements introduced make the task of repairing easier every day. My career as a bicyclist began in 1891, but, short as it may seem, I think it has qualified me to speak with authority. For my little Marriot, and Cooper's "Ladies' Safety," carried me across Central Europe, and as far east as the Roumanian frontier. My experience agrees with that of all other safety riders, men or women. The chief advantage of the machine is, as I have said, its one track, but this cannot be over-estimated. Roads must be, indeed, in a dreadful condition if space for one wheel to be driven easily over them cannot be found. The bicyclist can scorch in triumph along the tiniest footpath, while the tricyclist trudges on foot, pushing her three wheels through the mud or sand. Moreover, there is less resistance to the wind, and in touring, it is far easier to dispose of the small light safety than of the wider machine when you put up in a little inn at night, or are forced for a time to take the train. Many a night in Germany, Austria, and Hungary did my bicycle share my bedroom with me.
The chief drawback to the safety is usually found in learning to mount and steer. I shall be honest, and admit that there is a difficulty. The tricycle has the grace to stand still while the beginner experiments, but the safety is not to be trifled with. Sometimes it seems as if a look were enough to upset it. Of course, at first, it is well to let someone hold and steady it until its eccentricities are mastered, for it is entirely in the balancing that the trouble lies; the mount in itself is as simple as possible. The rider stands to the left of the machine by the pedals; taking hold of the handle bars she slowly wheels it until the right pedal is at the highest point, turns the front wheel a little to the right, and puts her right foot on the right pedal; this at once starts the machine and raises her into the saddle, and as the left pedal comes up, it is caught with her left foot. The great thing is to have confidence in the machine; she who shows the least fear or distrust is completely at its mercy. To dismount is as simple: when the left pedal is at its lowest point, the right foot is brought over the frame and the rider steps to the ground. If a sudden stop be necessary, she must put the brake on, not too abruptly, or she may be jerked out of the saddle.
The steering is the true difficulty in safety riding, and yet it cannot well be taught; it must come by practice, with some very painful experiences in the coming. The obstinacy of the safety seems at first unconquerable. During my apprenticeship, many a time have I been going in a straight line with every intention of keeping on in it, when, without warning, my safety has turned sharply at a right angle, rushed to the ditch and deposited me there. But the funny part of it is, that the woman who perseveres, gradually, she can scarcely explain how, gets the better of its self-willed peculiarities until she has it under perfect control.