Loe raamatut: «Patroclus and Penelope: A Chat in the Saddle», lehekülg 5

XXIV

There are so many manuals of the equestrian art from which any aspiring and patient student of equitation may derive the information requisite to become an expert horseman, that beyond a few hints for the benefit of those who, like you, Tom, know nothing and want to learn a little about the niceties of horseback work, it would be presumptuous to go. If a man desires to learn how to train a horse thoroughly, he must go back to Baucher, or to some of Baucher's pupils. All the larger works which cover training contain the elements of the Baucher system. The recent work of Colonel E. L. Anderson, late of General George H. Thomas' staff, written in England and published by David Douglas of Edinburgh, is a most excellent work.

I have found as a rule that abstruse written explanations are very difficult to understand. In a recent excellent book on riding-school training (not School-riding mind you), though I know perfectly well what the riding-school volte and demi-volte are, as well as the School-volte and demi-volte, simple and reversed, I have read certain paragraphs dozens of times, without being able to make the words mean what the movement really is. Colonel Anderson's book is very clear, though it goes fully into the refinements of the art, except the quasi-circus tricks and airs, and from it, with time and patience, a man can make himself an accomplished rider and his steed equal to any work – outside the sawdust ring.

But you, Tom, do not aspire to go so far in the training of Penelope.

XXV

You must not suppose that a man who teaches his horse all the airs of the Haute Ecole constantly uses them, any more than an eminent divine is always in the act of preaching, or a prima donna assoluta is at all times warbling or practicing chromatic scales, when each ought to be engaged in the necessary but prosaic details of life. The best results of School-training lie in the ability of the horse and rider to do plain and simple work in the best manner. Because a horse can traverse or perform the Spanish trot, his rider need not necessarily make him traverse or passage past the window of his inamorata, while he himself salutes her with the air of a grandee of Aragon. For this would no doubt be bad style for a modern horseman in front of a Beacon Street mansion; though truly it might be eminently proper, as well as an interesting display of horsemanship, for the same rider to traverse past his commanding general while saluting at a review on Boston Common. Nor because a horse can perform the reversed pirouette with perfect exactness will a School-rider stop in the middle of a park road and parade the accomplishment. But this same reversed pirouette is for all that the foundation of everything that a well-trained horse should be able to do, and if he knows it, he is ready to make use of it at all times for the greater ease, safety, and pleasure of his master.

You may ask of what use it can ever be. Suppose you were riding with a lady, on her left, – which is the safe and proper, if not the fashionable side, – and her saddle should begin to turn, say toward you, as it is most apt to do. If your horse minds the indication of your leg, you can keep him so close to your companion's as to afford her suitable assistance, even to the extent of bodily lifting her clear of her saddle. If your horse is only half trained, you cannot, perhaps, bring him to the position where you want him in season to be of any service at all. Have you never seen a man who was trying to open a gate at which a score of impatient, not to say objurgatory, riders were waiting, while the field was disappearing over the hills and far away, and who could neither get at it nor out of the way, because his crack hunter didn't know what the pressure of his master's legs meant, and fought shy of the gate, while keeping others from coming near it? Have you never stood watching a race at the Country Club, with a rider beside you whose horse took up five times the space he was entitled to, because he could not be made to move sidewise? Has not every one seen occasions when even a little training would have been a boon both to himself and his neighbors?

Talking of opening gates, one of the best bits of practice is to unlock, open, and ride through a common door and close and lock it after you without dismounting. Let it be a door opening towards you. If your horse will quickly get into and stand steady in the positions necessary to enable you to lean over and do all this handily at any door, gates will cease to have any terrors for you.

Nor must you suppose that every schooled horse is of necessity kept in his most skilled form at all times. As few college graduates of twenty years' standing can construe an ode of Horace, though indeed they may understand the purport and read between the lines as they could not under the shadow of the elms of Alma Mater, so Patroclus, for instance, is by no means as clever in the intricate steps of his School performances as he was when fresh from his education. But the result is there; and for all the purposes of actual use in the saddle, the training he has had at all times bears its fruit.

After this weary exordium of theory, Tom, for which my apologies, let us turn to a bit of practice.

XXVI

And first about the horse himself. If you buy one, do so under such advice as to get soundness, intelligence, courage, and good temper. Our American horses, unless spoiled, generally have all these in sufficient measure, and can be made everything of. You have been exceptionally fortunate in your purchase of Penelope. She is light gaited, not long and logy in her movements, and carries her own head. She has remarkable good looks, an inestimable quality after you get performance; but beware of the May-bird which has good looks alone. She is fifteen three, nearly as high at the rump, and with tail set on right there, fine-bred, but with barrel enough to weigh about a thousand and twenty pounds. She looks like a thoroughbred hunter, Tom, every inch of her. This is a good height and weight for you, who ride pretty heavy for a youngster, and are apt soon to run up to "twel' stun eight."

You say Penelope is six years old. From five to eight is the best age, the nearer five the better. An old horse does not supple so readily. And she was well broken to harness? A good harness training is no harm to any horse, nor occasional use in light harness, whatever pride one may take in a horse which has never looked through a collar. In fact, many hunters in the Old Country are purposely used as tandem, or four-in-hand leaders during the summer, to give them light work, and bring them towards the season in firmer condition than if they had run at large and eaten their heads off. It is only the pulling or holding back of heavy weights which injures saddle gaits, and this because a saddle beast should be taught to keep his hind legs well under him, and remain in an elastic equilibrium; and dragging a load brings about the habit of extending the legs too much to the rear, while holding back gives a habit of sprawling and stiffening which is sadly at variance with a "collected" action.

XXVII

You ask about dress. Wear anything which is usual among riders. Enamel boots as now worn are convenient to the constant rider, as the mud does not injure them as it does cloth, and water at once cleanses them. But plain dark trousers, cut a mere trifle longer than you wear them on the street, and strapped under the feet, are excellent to ride in. If cut just right they are the neatest of all gear for park riding in good weather. The simpler your dress the better. Gentlemen to-day dress in boots when riding with ladies, and fashion, of course, justifies their use now as it did fifty years ago. But within half that term, in England, a man who would ride in boots with a pretty horsebreaker considered trousers de rigeur, if he was going to the Park with his wife or daughters.

To saddle and bridle your horse, you must know your own needs and his disposition and mouth. But the English saddle and a bit and bridoon bridle, such as you have, are the simplest, and meet most wants, providing they fit the back and mouth.

We do not have to suit such varying tempers and mouths in this country as they do abroad. Our horses are singularly tractable. It is rather a stunning thing to be mounted on the fashionable type of horse who "won't stand a curb, you know," – and there are some such, – but, as a fact, ninety-nine American horses out of one hundred will work well in a port and bridoon bridle properly adjusted.

Always buy good things. Cheap ones are dear at any price. Your saddle should fit so that when you are in it you can thrust your riding-whip under the pommel and to the cantle along the horse's backbone; otherwise you may get sore withers. The bits should hang in the mouth just above where a horse's tush grows. Penelope's sex, you see, Tom, precludes her having any.

XXVIII

When you bought Penelope, she knew nothing of saddle work, and I told you to ride her a few times on a walk or a trot, anywhere and anyhow, so as to get used to her, and her used to you, before you began to teach her anything. She had presumably always been ridden to and from the blacksmith's shop, and worked kindly under saddle. You have got good legs, Tom, and any man with average legs can keep his seat after a fashion on a decently behaved horse. You were afraid you could not sit Penelope when you first bought her, and had not ridden for so long that you felt strange in the saddle. So I advised you to hire an old plug for a few rides until you were sure you would feel at home when you mounted her, meanwhile exercising her in harness. The better part of valor will always be discretion, now as in Falstaff's time, while the best of horses will get a bit nervous if kept long in a half-dark stable. Regular exercise is as essential to a horse as oil is to an engine, if either is to work smoothly.

You ask me the proper way to mount. Let us stop while you dismount, and I will show you the usual way. It is simple work. Stand opposite Nelly's near shoulder, a foot or so away from her, and facing towards the cantle of your saddle. Gather up your snaffle reins just tight enough to feel, but not pull on her mouth, and seize a part of her mane with your left hand. Insert your toe in the stirrup, just as it hangs, using your right hand if necessary. Then seize the cantle of the saddle with your right hand, and springing from your right foot, without touching the horse's flank with your left toe, raise yourself into the stirrup, pause a moment, and then throw the leg across the horse, moving your right hand away in season. If you were shorter, you might have to spring from your foot before you could touch the cantle. As in everything else, there are other and perhaps better ways to mount, and pages can be written upon the niceties of each method. But the above suffices for the nonce. You can choose your own fashion when you have tried them all.

An active youngster, like yourself, should be able to vault into the saddle without putting the left foot into the stirrup at all. In all Continental gymnasiums, this is one of the usual exercises, on a horse-block with imitation saddle, and is an excellent practice. By all means learn it.

XXIX

You do not seem to hold your reins handily, Tom. Of all the methods of holding reins I prefer the old cross-country way of a generation back, still recommended, I was pleased to see, in the very excellent article "Horse" of the edition of the "Cyclopædia Britannica" now publishing, and I fancy yet much in vogue.

The School method is different; but the School requires that the curb and snaffle shall be used for different indications or "aids" to convey the rider's meaning to the horse, and not at the same time. In ordinary saddle work it is generally convenient to employ the reins together. Gather your reins up with me. The near curb outside little finger, near snaffle between little and third fingers, off snaffle between third and middle, off curb between middle and index, all four gathered flat above index and held in place by thumb, knuckles up. Or easier, take up your snaffle by the buckle and pass the third finger of left hand between its reins; then take up the curb and pass the little, third, and middle fingers between its reins. The snaffle reins, you see, are thus inside the curb reins, each is easily reached and distinguished and you can shift hold from left hand to right, or vice versa, more readily than in any other way, by merely placing one hand, with fingers spread to grasp the reins, in front of the other. By having the loop of each rein hanging separate so that the free hand can seize it quickly, either can be shortened or lengthened at will, or they may be so together. Moreover, this hold affords the easiest method of changing from one to both hands and back.

For if you insert your right little finger between the off reins, and your third finger inside the snaffle rein, and draw the off reins from your left hand slightly, you have a very handy means of using both hands, with the additional value that you can either drop the right reins by easing the length of the left ones to equalize the pressure on the horse's mouth; or by grasping the left reins with right middle finger over snaffle and first finger over curb, you can shift to the right hand entirely. When in this position you can again use the left hand by inserting its fingers in front of the right one and closing upon the reins, as already indicated. In fact, without lengthening the near reins, but merely by placing the right hand in any convenient way on the off ones, you may be ready to use both hands in entirely proper fashion. And in this day of two-handed riding, it is advisable to be able to follow the fashion quickly.

For School airs, this also affords an easy way of using separately curb and snaffle, as is often necessary.

If you are riding with single reins, you will place them on either side of third or little finger, or embracing little, third, and middle fingers and up under thumb in similar manner. A single rein may be held in many ways.

With all other double-rein methods, except the one described, you have to alter the position of reins in shifting from hand to hand. With this one the order of reins and fingers remains the same.

Any other system of holding the reins which you prefer will do as well, if you become expert at it. I have tried them all, from Baucher's down, and have always reverted to what was shown me thirty odd years ago.

Your curb chain should be looser than it is, Tom. A horse needing a stiff curb is unsuited to any but an expert rider, and must have a great many splendid qualities to make up for this really bad one. Some people like a mouth they can hold on by, but they do not make fine horsemen. Never ride on your horse's mouth, or, as they say, "ride your bridle." Many men like a hunter who "takes hold of you," but this won't do on the road, if you seek comfort or want a drilled horse. You see that Nelly keeps jerking at the curb. Let out a link, at least. An untrained horse seeks relief from the curb by poking out his nose, the trained one by giving way to it and arching his neck. It is better at first only to ride on your snaffle rein, leaving your curb rein reasonably loose; or else you may use only a snaffle bit and single rein for a while. But unless you very early learn that your reins are to afford no support whatever to your seat, you will never be apt to learn it. Don't use a martingale unless your horse is a star-gazer, or else tosses his head so as to be able to strike you. It tends to make you lean upon the rein and confines your horse's head.

XXX

You have now been out a half-dozen times with your new purchase, Tom, and you have managed to get along much to your own satisfaction. You have neither slipped off, nor has Penelope misbehaved. But you are intelligent enough to see that there is something beyond this for you and her to learn. I do not know how ambitious you are. If you want to make Nelly's forehand and croup so supple that you can train her into the finest gaits and action, you must go to work on the stable floor with an hour a day at least of patient teaching, for a number of weeks. For this purpose you must have a manual of instruction, such as I have shown you, and quite a little stock of leisure and particularly of good temper.

The ordinary English trainer thinks that a good mouth may be made in two weeks, by strapping a colt's reins to his surcingle for an hour or two daily, and by longeing with a cavesson. But excellent as cavesson work may be, this means alone will by no means produce the quality of mouth which the Baucher method will make, or which you should aim to give to Nelly.

Still I know that you have but limited time, Tom, and that you want your daily ride to educate both yourself and your mare. This can be accomplished after a fashion; but it is only what the primary school is to the university, – good, as far as it goes. The trouble with beginning to supple a horse's neck when in motion is that you ask him to start doing two things at once, that is, move forward at command and obey your reins, and he will be apt to be somewhat confused. He will not as readily understand what you want him to do, as if standing quiet and undisturbed.

With plenty of courage, Tom, Penelope seems to have a very gentle disposition. Almost all of our American horses have. They are not as apt to be spoiled in the breaking-in as they are abroad. And I fancy she is intelligent. You should have no difficulty in training her, and in teaching her a habit of obedience which she will never forget.

It is all but an axiom that an unspoiled horse will surely do what he knows you want him to do, unless he is afraid to do it, or unless, as is generally the case, you yourself are at fault. The difficulty lies in making him understand you. Remember this, and keep your patience always. If a horse is roguish, as he often will be, it is only a moment's play, and he will at once get over it, unless you make it worse by unnecessary fault-finding. I generally laugh at a horse instead of scolding him. He understands the tone if not the words, and it turns aside the occasion for a fight or for punishment.

Never invite a fight with a horse. Avoid it whenever you can accomplish your end by other means. Never decline it when it must come. But either win the fight or reckon on having a spoiled horse on your hands, who will never thoroughly obey you.

And remember that a horse who obeys from fear is never as tractable, safe, or pleasant as one who has been taught by gentle means, and with whom the habit of obeying goes hand in hand with love for his master and pleasure in serving him. I do not refer to those creatures which have already been made equine brutes by the stupidity or cruelty of human brutes. One of these may occasionally need more peremptory treatment, but under proper tuition even such an one needs it rarely.

XXXI

Let us have a trot, and see how Penelope moves, and how you sit. You, Tom, will take your pace from me. There is nothing more unhorsemanlike and annoying than for a rider to keep half a horse's length in front of his companion. Your stirrup should be even with mine. A gentleman can be a foot or two in front of a lady, for safety and convenience, but men should ride as they would walk, all but arm in arm. Now you can see the effects of education. Penelope insists on trotting a twelve-mile gait, and no wonder, for she has such fine, open action, that a sharp gait is less effort to her than a slow one. On the contrary, I, who, as the senior, have the right to give the pace, am satisfied with two-thirds that speed; and Patroclus, who, as you well know, can easily out-trot, or, I fancy, out-run your mare, and would dearly like to try it, yields himself to my mood without an ounce of pull or friction. Look at his reins. They are quite loose. Now look at yours. Nelly is pulling and fretting for all she is worth, while you are working your passage. Two miles like that will take three out of her and five out of you. She will fume herself into a lather soon, while Pat will not have turned a hair. She certainly is a candidate for training. You appear to need all the strength of your arms to pull her down to a walk, whereas a simple turn of the wrist, or a low-spoken word, should suffice.

By the way, always indulge in the habit of talking to your horse. You have no idea of how much he will understand. And if he is in the habit of listening for your words, and of paying heed to what you say, he will be vastly more obedient as well as companionable. Patroclus and I often settle very knotty questions on the road. We think we helped elect Cleveland. And I must confess that occasionally a passer-by fancies that I am talking to myself, whereas, if he but knew the meaning of Patroclus' lively ears, he would see what a capital comrade I have, and one, moreover, who, like one's favorite book, is never impertinent enough to answer back, or flout you with excessive wisdom. It is certainly a very pleasant study to see how many words or phrases a horse can learn the meaning of, and act intelligently when he hears them.