They don't make 'em like they used to

While we marvel at the efforts of today’s top riders, spare a thought for the colossal exploits of yesteryear’s stars with the challenges of a more experimental phase of equestrianism, says Pippa Cuckson

- Pippa Cuckson

THE Olympic motto Citius, Altius, Fortius – “faster, higher, stronger” – certainly applied to the early days of organised equestrianism.

One of the first recorded showjumping courses was at Madison Square Gardens in 1892, six fences of 1.75m to 1.83m (5ft 9in–6ft). The New York Times reported that one faller “had a narrow escape from bad injury, as he landed on the top of his head, and was spun about like a top, his foot caught in the stirrup”.

Sixty years later in New York, post-war icon Pat Smythe tackled similar rails – now thoughtfully cushioned by bamboo wrapping! For those brought up in the era of accuracy fences and nuanced distances, the archives leave you gasping, “Did they seriously jump that?”

The arena sport derived from high-jump contests in the late 19th century. Military riders galloped their multitasking steeds at fearsome sloping rails and other gimmicky obstacles.

In one famous photograph from 1904, Georges Crousse clears 2.20m (7ft 3in) while saluting the King of Spain. Contemporary sports writer Gustav Rau chastised riders for showing off, and looking back over the fence. The obsession with record-breaking fizzled out only after World War II, as civilians made showjumping their own.

The Hickstead Derby track gives a glimpse into the “natural” presentation of bygone showjumping, with its plethora of banks – invariably with gullies or hedges on the landing side – railway crossings and waters.

Uniformity did not arrive until the late 1960s.