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American
Riders - Page 4 |
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Horsemanship is a broader term than mere riding. It, of
necessity, comprises the latter to a certain extent. A good horseman must
be a good rider, though he may not be a perfect one, from age or
disability. But the best rider may be a very poor horseman. The best wild
rider never spares his horse. A good horseman’s first though is for his
beast. But the horseman may by no means be able to equal the rider’s feats
of daring, endurance, skill, or agility. In short, we city folks, compared
to the saddle-bred man whose life work is astride a horse, are and remain
tenderfoots.
Now the Mexican gentleman, like most Southern men, is a
good rider within his limits. He is the very reverse of the Englishman,
who, with his reductio ad simplicitatem [reduced to simplicity] of
everything, to the bone. With his tweed suits and his brusque manners,
with his disregard of everything which lends a touch of charm to daily
life, he has driven out much that is beautiful and more that is gallant in
social and equestrian pleasures alike.
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The Range Rider by W. Herbert Dunton, 1913
This image available for
photographic prints and
downloads
HERE!
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With lace ruffles and buckled shoes have quite
disappeared not only the beauties of equitation, but the graceful outward
courtesies to the other sex; and the place of the latter has not been
filled by the acknowledgment conveyed in the cavalier manner now in vogue
that women have grown in wisdom to the point of taking care of themselves.
Women are glad, no doubt, of some emancipation, but does she whom we love
and admire as a the real woman of today want to be left to her own
resources any more than did her grandmother? Has she tired of the willing
ministrations of the other sex? We have by no means lost our heart
courtesies, but whither has the old-fashioned polish taken its flight? We
are indebted for much to the Old Country; do not let us borrow too
largely. Despite our ante bellum accusation that the South
affiliated with the British aristocracy, the Southern has retained his
gallantry to women, as we of the Eastern States, to our serious detriment,
have not. The best rule in equitation, as in other arts, is first the
useful, then the ornamental. But having the useful, by no means let the
ornamental elude you, unless the twain be compatible.
Our artist has drawn the typical rider on the Paseo de
la Reforma, the Rotten Row or Harlem Lane of the city of Mexico. In
this style ride both the statesman and the swell, the banker and (when he
can afford it) his clerk. And very much so rode the Englishman of half a
century ago. I have heard excellent English horsemen brush aside all
reference to the high-school of equitation as worthy only of a snob. But
there were some very decent "snobs” in England back in the thirties, when
celebrated members of both Houses, the leaders of fashion, the most noted
generals – the very men, indeed, who had beaten Boney – and every one
pretending to be in the social swim would go prancing up and down the Row,
passaging, piaffing, traversing, to the admiration of all beholders. Evan
the M.F.H. fell into the trick of it in the Park. They were not called
snobs then; the initial letter was dropped; and when a Briton slurs at the
better education of the horse today, he casts a stone at his own ancestry
over the shoulder of the lover of the high school.
The first thing in our Mexican friend which strikes us is his horse. This
is not the bronco of the Plains. He is evidently imported from Spain, or
lately bred from Spanish stock, without that long struggle for existence
which has given the pony his wonderful endurance and robbed him of every
mark of external beauty. Here we revert to the original Moorish type. The
high and long-maned crest, arched with pride, the full red nostril, large
and docile eye, rounded barrel, high croup, tail set on and carried to
match the head, clean legs, high action, and perfect poise. How he fills
our artistic eye! how we dwell upon him! until we remember that
performance comes first, beauty after, and that the English thorough-bred,
which can give a distance to the best of this exquisite creatures family
and beat him handily, has developed from the same blood far other lines
than these; or, indeed, that the meanest runt of a Plains pony, on a ride
of a hundred miles
across the Bad Lands, would leave the beautiful animal dead in his tracks
full
two score miles behind!
The Mexican swell rides on a saddle worth a
fortune. It is loaded with silver trimmings, and hanging over it is an
expensive serape, or Spanish blanket, which adds to the magnificence of
the whole. His queer-shaped stirrups are redolent of the old mines. His
bridle is in like manner adorned with metal in the shape of half a dozen
big silver plates, and to his bit is attached a pair of knotted red-cord
reins, which he holds high up and loose.
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Mexican Gentleman, Frederic Remington,
Harper's Weekly, July, 1891.
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He is dressed in a black velvet jacket
fringed and embroidered with silver; and a huge and expensive hat, perched
on his head, is tilted over one ear. His legs are encased in dark
tight-fitting breeches, with silver trimming down the side seams, but cut
so as, in summer weather, to unbutton from the knee down and flap aside.
His spurs are silver, big and heavy and costly, and fitted to buckle round
his high cut heel. Under his left leg is fastened a broad-bladed and
beautiful curved sword, with a hilt worthy a prince of the blood.
The seat of this exquisite is the perfect pattern of a
clothes-pin. Leaning against the cantle, he stretches his legs forward and
outward, with heels depressed in a fashion which reminds one of Sydney
Smith’s saying that he did not object to a clergyman riding, if only he
rode very badly, and turned out his toes. It is the very converse of
riding close to your horse. In what it originates it is hard to guess,
unless bravado. The
cowboy,
with
an equally short seat and long stirrups, keeps his legs where they belong,
and if
his leg is out of perpendicular, it will be so to the rear.
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The rack rarely, the canter all but universally, is ridden
by the Mexican. It is only the Englishman and those he has taught who ride
what can be called a trot. With all others the trot is a mere jog, though
a good open trot is one of the easiest gaits for a horse to go. Luckily,
as the horses of the world gain in breeding by the use of English stock,
so the world is learning the English habit of rising. When I was a
school-boy in Prussia, I was fairly hooted out of rising to a trot. But
now you see the Prussian and all other Continental officers riding a
la’ Anglaise [in the English manner] in full uniform, and one may see a lancer or hussar
trotting through the streets with a handful of dispatches, leaning over
his horses neck and rising to the gait in a fashion which would have
court-martialed him in the old ramrod Anglophobia days of Frederick
William IV. For all they laugh at England for her military
pretensions, they adopt many good things from her, not the least of which
is the course of cross-country riding which all foreign officers are now
required to take.
The canter of the Mexican is the old park canter, with a
superabundant use of the curb to make the horse prance and play and show
his action. But we must not look down upon him. He is doing nothing more
than the men who used to go titupping down Rotten Row every fine afternoon
of fifty years ago; and he may be a better rider than he looks.
This trot and canter controversy is not yet settled. The
Englishman claims that
his horse can go seven miles on a trot for six on a canter. Our cavalry
officers on
the Plains have arrived at a similar conclusion, and all long marches are
made at
alternate walk and trot, or walk alone. Most cavalry does this. But you
cannot
make a Southerner or a Plainsman adopt this theory. The Southern horse
goes his
so-called artificial gaits, or canters: you cannot give away a trotter for
the saddle.
The bronco canters all but exclusively. The matter seems to depend on
inbred
habit, and comparative statistics on the subject, however interesting,
could scarcely be made accurate.
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Compiled and
edited by
Kathy Weiser/Legends
of America, February, 2010.
About the Author: Colonel Theodore Ayrault
Dodge was a Union officer during the
Civil War and
a military historian. His primary writings were on the war and military
history, but he also wrote this article, Some American Riders,
which appeared in Harper's Magazine in July, 1891. |
Also See:
The
American Cowboy
The
Cattle Trails
Cattle Trails of the Prairie
Cowboys on the American Frontier
List of
Trail Blazers, Riders, & Cowboys
The Range of
the American West
Tales & Trails of the
American West
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