CHAPTER I.

OUGHT CHILDREN TO RIDE?

The “Common Sense of Riding,” which formed the title under which these writings were first furnished to the public in the columns of a London journal, supplied a fitting heading for the articles at the time, very little concerning stable or general horse management being appended to the instructions offered to equestrians. The expediency of adding to the work formed a necessity for altering the title; but the original one, if used here, would set forth precisely the manner in which I am about to deal with the subject that I have taken in hand.

To discard preamble, and plunge at once _in medias res_, is usually the wisest and most common-sense manner of coming at and coping with the difficulties surrounding crotchety questions: and surely one of the foremost in the category of such is the often-heard inquiry, “How shall I best learn to ride?”

To offer instruction on any subject to persons who fancy they have no need of it, is at all times mere waste of time and trouble. My remarks, therefore--embracing, as it is meant they shall, a variety of matters especially interesting to ladies--will be addressed throughout to those only who really feel their need of friendly counsel, who are _anxious_ to learn, and are willing to benefit by such hints and instructions as my varied experiences of horses and horse-management enable me to give them.

Before entering fully upon my pleasant task, I would say that although many men, and very many youths, may learn a useful lesson or two from matters upon which I shall touch, or possibly deal with in detail, my observations will be directed chiefly to _ladies_, my desire being to take each separately, as it were, into my confidence, and speak to her less as teacher to pupil than as friend to friend.

It seems to me that to adopt the homely pronouns “you” and “I” will be more convenient and concise than adhering to the stereotyped and old-fashioned terms “the reader,” and “the author”--modes of expression which are as a rule unnecessarily formal, and most uncomfortably cold. When, therefore, I begin my subject, I shall suppose that you are a novice, with but a very shadowy idea of the subject on which you wish to be enlightened; but when I say “novice,” I do not necessarily mean a child. Indeed, I hope that you are not one, for it is widely known that I object very strongly to children riding, my reasons for doing so being founded on the surest and most common-sense principles. The point is one which has of late years led me into discussions with very many high-class authorities on equitation, but I have never for a moment swerved from my fixed opinions, and many of my keenest opponents have, from time to time, ranged themselves on my side.

It is indeed a matter of surprise to me that anybody possessed of even moderate reasoning capacity can advocate infantile equestrianism. The two arguments which defenders of it make their strong points, namely, that it is “splendid exercise,” and that it imparts a courage which is beneficial in after life, can, while admitted, be counterbalanced by so many genuine drawbacks and objections, that their boasted efficacy runs considerable risk of being regarded as a thing of nought. Before, however, dealing with the _con’s_ of the case, let us take up the _pro’s_ in rotation. It is splendid exercise. Granted; but rolling hoop is quite as good, while ball-playing, tennis, badminton, and every other game that sets the blood in motion and calls the muscles into active play, may be styled equally beneficial. All the advantages which are derivable from exercise--and they are many--can be had without riding; this is an admitted fact; and, being so, it serves to sweep away suppositious inferences respecting the superiority of _equine_ practice, or training, over that of any other sort. So much for the oft-quoted plea of “exercise.”

With regard to the question of courage, it cannot be denied that a certain and useful amount of _confidence_ is imparted to all young persons who participate largely in pursuits which have a smack of daring or danger about them. Watch, for example, the peasant girls who inhabit the country districts of Ireland. They climb steep mountains, descend jagged cliffs, run barefooted along sharp ledges and high rugged walls, without thought of danger, or trace of fear. And why? Because from childhood they have been accustomed to it. It goes, then, without saying that early practice does impart an amount of bravado, which may in later life be found useful on occasion; but, having acknowledged this, I feel that I have done my entire duty towards the advocates of a system to which I strongly object, and I shall, therefore, proceed, in all fairness, to demolish their theories by a clear and simple setting forth of the evils which are, in my opinion, attendant upon early equestrian pursuits.

Few persons will be found to dispute the fact that a child on horseback, especially a girl, runs at least as many risks as a grown person. She may at any moment be jerked off, run away with, overpowered by the strength or temper of her mount, cannoned against by awkward or reckless riders, or subjected to the unpleasantness of discovering that the animal she herself is riding is given to slipping, stumbling, falling completely under her, or behaving in some unseemly manner that is entirely beyond her powers to check or control. To these dangers and discomforts--as well as to many others with which equestrians, old and young, are uncomfortably familiar--she is at all times liable to be exposed, and, this being an admitted truth, I ask whether it can for a moment be asserted that a child is as capable as an adult of coping with such risks? The answer _must_ be “No.” The perils are the same for both--while the weaker side is absolutely unable to grapple with them when they arise. I speak from experience, and strive to teach from it also. Having been largely associated with juvenile riders, especially in country parts of England, the knowledge which I have picked up from _their_ absolute want of it has proved most fitting and serviceable to me when offering hints and instructions to others of similar age. Five years ago I had the unhappiness of seeing a pretty child who was riding with me seriously hurt, through her horse falling under her while traversing an extremely rutty road. He made what is called a double stumble, and had her hands possessed the cunning, or her arms the strength, to have pulled him together after he had made the first blunder, he would undoubtedly not have gone down; but he was a slovenly animal,--one that wanted “collecting” and keeping well in hand: two things of which my tender little companion knew nothing whatever; nor was she capable of putting them in practice, even had it been otherwise.

About the same time I saw another bright-eyed little maiden run away with over the “breezy downs.” Her horse, fresh and frolicsome, started with mine at a light canter, and for awhile we kept nicely together; but presently--after a quarter of a mile or so--her mount began to romp with his head, and finally breaking into a gallop, made off at terrific speed, lashing the damp turf from beneath his flying hoofs, and laying back his wicked ears until they rested flat upon his neck. I knew that the youngster he was carrying had abundance of pluck, even without any very distinct knowledge of the art of riding, so I shouted to her with all my might to sit close and leave him his head (we were going up hill at the time), and to give him the whip when he tired, which I knew he very soon would do, with a long, heavy incline in front of him. I might as well have spoken to the wind. Terror, and consciousness of her own ignorance robbed the child of her wits: she gripped the pommel with her right hand, tugged at the reins with her left, and, after swaying about in a manner that makes me sick to think of, finally fell off, and was picked up bruised and bleeding, and so entirely unnerved as to render it a matter of extreme difficulty to persuade her ever to ride again. As for the horse, he was not personally any the worse of his escapade, but, having conquered his rider, he was ever afterwards rightfully considered an unsafe animal for a lady to mount.

I have seen children over and over again subjected to the most fearful risks through riding horses that were too much for them. It is so easy for a girl to be overpowered,--and, once she is so, good-bye for ever to all or any pleasure in riding the animal who has been her conqueror. He will always remember his victory, and presume upon it.

Horses are not simpletons; their wisdom, on the contrary, is astonishing. Allow them to vanquish you once, and they will pursue their advantage to their lives’ end.

There are other reasons, also, on which I ground my objections to children riding. Little girls are exceedingly apt to grow crooked. It is all sheer nonsense to say “they will not if they _sit straight_,” inasmuch as young riders never do, as a rule, fall into the desired method; or, if for awhile it is a thing accomplished, they very speedily fall out of it again, when fatigue overpowers them, or the groom has shortened their stirrup-leather too much, or when a large amount of pressure upon it during a long ride has stretched it to an uncomfortable length. It is the merest sophistry to argue that such things _ought_ not to occur, seeing that they do, and are in fact happening every day around us. One child out of five hundred may, perhaps, be an habitual straight-sitter, but to counterbalance her perfection in this particular, the remaining 499 will be either hanging to one side or the other (usually the near, or left side), or sitting square enough, it may be, yet with the right shoulder thrust forward and upward, thus sowing the seeds of a deformity which in ten years’ time, when the little one of eight shall have grown into a belle of eighteen, will have become an incurable disfigurement, one which all the arts of the most skilful _modiste_ cannot by any possibility cover, or the most seraphic charms of face and manner serve to put out of sight.

The frame of a child, even the most robust, is too weakly and delicate--too liable to grow “out of form”--to render equestrian exercise a fitting pursuit for persons of tender age. Nature has not ruled that her frail handiwork shall be roughly or unfairly strained, and when it is, the penalty is certain to follow, in disarranged system, weakened or injured muscular development, misplaced shoulder-blades, undue tension of the tendons of the left leg--or contraction of them, which is worse--accompanied by an unnatural languor and a constant craving for permission “to go and lie down,” which, in so many cases, children are observed to manifest.

The absurd assertion that no girl can excel as a horsewoman unless she begins to practise the art when a child has been so often and substantially refuted that to attempt further contradiction of it would be merely to entail loss of time. Suffice it to say that some of the finest equestrians the world has ever produced have been entirely ignorant of riding until after their arrival at womanhood, or, at all events, until childish days had been left far in the rear. Of these a foreign Empress is a noteworthy example, while many others, whose names in park and hunting-field are familiar as household words, might go to swell the list.

“Well, but really”--I fancy I hear some unconvinced matron saying--“I cannot see that my children are anything the worse for riding every day. I myself rode when I was their age, and it never seemed to do me any harm.” Granted, madam; but question yourself, whether you have a right, because _you_ have had the good fortune to escape the evils usually consequent upon a prejudicial system, to encourage your offspring to go in the way of contracting them. As well might you boast of having escaped contagion during an attendance on a fever patient, and then (presuming on your own lucky chance) thrust your children deliberately into an infected house. No; if you are a wise parent, or guardian, advocate early instruction in pianoforte-playing and its study, also in drawing, painting, and such branches of education as will expand and benefit the understanding, without unduly straining the yet undeveloped resources of the body; encourage likewise such exercises as are of a healthful and suitable nature--but compel the young folks of whom you have charge to leave riding alone, at all events until the fourteenth year has been well got over: because, just as in singing the vocal organs are weak, and the voice apt to alter and break about that period (which is the case with girls as with boys, although very many fail to know or believe it), so, in like manner, the frame of a young girl is delicate and unstrung, and is absolutely _incapable_ of enduring strain or fatigue without incurring consequences which, even if not made much account of at the time, will most likely in after life cause themselves to be dismally felt.

About fifteen, or from that to twenty, is an excellent time for a girl to learn to ride--by which I mean that she ought not to attempt it before the first-mentioned age while the last will not be one whit too late. Boys may begin whenever they choose; their position on horseback obviates the possibility of growing shoulder-crooked, while custom which enables them to ride with a leg on each side of the saddle, equalises their seat, and fairly distributes the amount of _stress_ which pressure on the stirrups entails upon both nether limbs. Moreover, they are infinitely stronger, even from babyhood--can bear any amount of knocking about, and so far from being injured by an occasional spill or two, are immensely benefited by making moderate acquaintance with mother earth. It is not so with girls, and around them all my sympathies entwine.