achievements matter. One is their political and historical context, which is simultaneously distant and
uncomfortably similar to our own. Born in what is now the Czech Republic in the twilight years of the
Habsburg empire, Lata came of age just as the First World War was reducing the old aristocracy’s charmed
world to rubble.
A free, independent democracy emerged from the ruins in 1918: the First Czechoslovak Republic. Tomas
Masaryk, its idealistic founder and first president, quickly introduced a radically progressive political
agenda. Aristocratic titles were abolished. The ruling class’s bloated estates were gradually reduced. And
equality between the sexes was enshrined in the constitution.
As a countess, Lata suffered from the first two measures (although by 1918 her family had already lost much
of its land and wealth). The third promised opportunities that, if real, would more than compensate for the
other losses. She had been riding since she was eight; her miraculous rapport with horses was obvious to all
who saw her do so. In the old world, however, her gender had allowed her no prospect of riding
competitively. Her job was to marry a fellow aristocrat and bear his children; that was all.
Lata insisted that a horse would give of its best
only if coaxed into being a ‘willing helper and
friend’Sometimes, growing up, Lata and her sisters had organised horse races of their own. When they did so, they
dressed up as men and painted moustaches on their faces. Back then, the idea of a female jockey had
seemed absurd. Now, however, Lata began to dream.
In fact, despite the constitution’s promise of equal rights, old habits of prejudice and discrimination died
hard. Women in European democracies were taking to sport with growing enthusiasm, but the men who
ran horse-racing showed little appetite for opening their world up to female competition. One leading
Czechoslovak trainer recognised Lata’s ability and allowed her to exercise his horses. But for many years
that was the only outlet permitted for her talents. Not until she was 32 was she allowed as far as the starting
line of an official competitive race.
Her first race was a low-key affair: a four-horse race in which all the riders were women. It incurred the
disapproval of the racing press but little else. Her second – the 1927 Grand Pardubice steeplechase – caused
a scandal that echoed across Europe. The race, which attracted riders from many countries but was prized
by Czechoslovaks as their own big national sporting event, had been designed as a preparation for war: its
whole point was to be life-threatening.
The liberal consensus that had given birth to Czechoslovakia seemed, by contrast, to be dissolving. People