Bracebridge Hall: Horsemanship

Horsemanship

     A coach was a strange monster in those days, and the sight of
     one put both horse and man into amazement. Some said it was a
     great crabshell brought out of China, and some imagined it to
     be one of the Pagan temples in which the Cannibals adored the
     divell.
     TAYLOR, THE WATER POET.

I have made casual mention, more than once, of one of the squire's
antiquated retainers, old Christy the huntsman. I find that his crabbed
humour is a source of much entertainment among the young men of the
family: the Oxonian, particularly, takes a mischievous pleasure now and
then in slyly rubbing the old man against the grain, and then smoothing
him down again; for the old fellow is as ready to bristle up his back
as a porcupine. He rides a venerable hunter called Pepper, which is a
counterpart of himself, a heady, cross-grained animal, that frets the
flesh off its bones; bites, kicks, and plays all manner of villanous
tricks. He is as tough, and nearly as old as his rider, who has ridden
him time out of mind, and is, indeed, the only one that can do anything
with him. Sometimes, however, they have a complete quarrel, and a
dispute for mastery, and then, I am told, it is as good as a farce to
see the heat they both get into, and the wrongheaded contest that
ensues; for they are quite knowing in each other's ways and in the art
of teasing and fretting each other. Notwithstanding these doughty
brawls, however, there is nothing that nettles old Christy sooner than
to question the merits of his horse; which he upholds as tenaciously as
a faithful husband will vindicate the virtues of the termagant spouse
that gives him a curtain lecture every night of his life.

The young men call old Christy their "professor of equitation," and in
accounting for the appellation, they let me into some particulars of the
squire's mode of bringing up his children. There is an odd mixture of
eccentricity and good sense in all the opinions of my worthy host. His
mind is like modern Gothic, where plain brick-work is set off with
pointed arches and plain tracery. Though the main groundwork of his
opinions is correct, yet he has a thousand little notions, picked up
from old books, which stand out whimsically on the surface of his mind.

Thus, in educating his boys, he chose Peachum, Markham, and such old
English writers for his manuals. At an early age he took the lads out of
their mother's hands, who was disposed, as mothers are apt to be, to
make fine orderly children of them, that should keep out of sun and
rain, and never soil their hands, nor tear their clothes.

In place of this, the squire turned them loose, to run free and wild
about the park, without heeding wind or weather. He was also
particularly attentive in making them bold and expert horsemen; and
these were the days when old Christy, the huntsman, enjoyed great
importance, as the lads were put under his care to practise them at the
leaping-bars, and to keep an eye upon them in the chase.

The squire always objected to their using carriages of any kind, and is
still a little tenacious on this point. He often rails against the
universal use of carriages, and quotes the words of honest Nashe to that
effect. "It was thought," says Nashe, in his Quaternio, "a kind of
solecism, and to savour of effeminacy, for a young gentleman in the
flourishing time of his age to creep into a coach, and to shroud himself
from wind and weather: our great delight was to out-brave the blustering
boreas upon a great horse; to arm and prepare ourselves to go with Mars
and Bellona into the field was our sport and pastime; coaches and
caroches we left unto them for whom they were first invented, for ladies
and gentlemen, and decrepit age and impotent people."

The squire insists that the English gentlemen have lost much of their
hardiness and manhood since the introduction of carriages. "Compare," he
will say, "the fine gentleman of former times, ever on horseback, booted
and spurred, and travel-stained, but open, frank, manly, and chivalrous,
with the fine gentleman of the present day, full of affectation and
effeminacy, rolling along a turnpike in his voluptuous vehicle. The
young men of those days were rendered brave, and lofty, and generous,
in their notions, by almost living in their saddles, and having their
foaming steeds 'like proud seas under them.' There is something," he
adds, "in bestriding a fine horse, that makes a man feel more than
mortal. He seems to have doubled his nature, and to have added to his
own courage and sagacity the power, the speed, and stateliness of the
superb animal on which he is mounted."

"It is a great delight," says old Nashe, "to see a young gentleman with
his skill and cunning, by his voice, rod, and spur, better to manage and
to command the great Bucephalus, than the strongest Milo, with all his
strength; one while to see him make him tread, trot, and gallop the
ring; and one after to see him make him gather up roundly; to bear his
head steadily; to run a full career swiftly; to stop a sudden lightly;
anon after to see him make him advance, to yorke, to go back and side
long, to turn on either hand; to gallop the gallop galliard; to do the
capriole, the chambetta, and dance the curvetty."

In conformity to these ideas, the squire had them all on horseback at an
early age, and made them ride, slap-dash, about the country, without
flinching at hedge or ditch, or stone wall, to the imminent danger of
their necks.

Even the fair Julia was partially included in this system; and, under
the instructions of old Christy, has become one of the best horsewomen
in the county. The squire says it is better than all the cosmetics and
sweeteners of the breath that ever were invented. He extols the
horsemanship of the ladies in former times, when Queen Elizabeth would
scarcely suffer the rain to stop her accustomed ride. "And then think,"
he will say, "what nobler and sweeter beings it made them. What a
difference must there be, both in mind and body, between a joyous
high-spirited dame of those days, glowing with health and exercise,
freshened by every breeze that blows, seated loftily and gracefully on
her saddle, with plume on head, and hawk on hand, and her descendant of
the present day, the pale victim of routs and ball-rooms, sunk languidly
in one corner of an enervating carriage."

The squire's equestrian system has been attended with great success, for
his sons, having passed through the whole course of instruction without
breaking neck or limb, are now healthful, spirited, and active, and have
the true Englishman's love for a horse. If their manliness and frankness
are praised in their father's hearing, he quotes the old Persian maxim,
and says, they have been taught "to ride, to shoot, and to speak the
truth."

It is true the Oxonian has now and then practised the old gentleman's
doctrines a little in the extreme. He is a gay youngster, rather fonder
of his horse than his book, with a little dash of the dandy; though the
ladies all declare that he is "the flower of the flock." The first year
that he was sent to Oxford, he had a tutor appointed to overlook him, a
dry chip of the university. When he returned home in the vacation, the
squire made many inquiries about how he liked his college, his studies,
and his tutor. "Oh, as to my tutor, sir, I have parted with him some
time since." "You have; and, pray, why so?" "Oh, sir, hunting was all
the go at our college, and I was a little short of funds; so I
discharged my tutor, and took a horse, you know." "Ah, I was not aware
of that, Tom," said the squire, mildly.

When Tom returned to college his allowance was doubled, that he might be
enabled to keep both horse and tutor.

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