No lady can enjoy riding, or become proficient in that art, unless she has good nerve. Luckily, the large majority of girls who learn to ride possess abundance of nerve and pluck, an excess of which is often a danger to safety in the hunting field. It may be noticed, however, that the finest horsewomen do not make any showy display of their prowess, for they ride to hunt, and do not hunt to ride. Pluck is an admirable quality as far as it goes, but it must be supported by nerve.

It is the custom to laugh at people who are suffering from temporary loss of nerve, but it is heartless to do so, as we have all, I believe, felt, more or less, what Jorrocks would term, “kivered all over with the creeps,” at some period or other of our lives. Bad horses and bad falls are apt to ruin the strongest nerve, and there must be a cause to produce an effect. For instance, I never feared a thunderstorm until our house was struck by lightning; but now, when a storm comes, I feel like the Colonel to whom a Major said on the field of Prestonpans: “You shiver, Colonel, you are afraid.” “I am afraid, Sir,” replied the Colonel, “and if you were as much afraid as I am, you would run away!” It may, however, be consoling to ladies who are battling against loss of nerve, to hear that I have known brilliant horsemen lose their nerve so utterly that they were unable to take their horses out of a walk. With quiet practice their good nerve returned again, and they have ridden as well as ever. Nerve in riding is recoverable by practice on a very confidential horse. Some men give their wives or daughters horses which are unsuitable for them, and which they are unable to manage. Is it any wonder that such ladies have their nerve entirely shattered in their efforts to control half-broken, violent brutes of horses? It is customary to blame ladies who are unable to control their horses in the hunting field; but the men who supply them with such animals are, in many cases, the more deserving of censure. There are men, not many, I hope, who consider it unnecessary for their womenkind to learn to ride before they hunt; but no one has a right to thus endanger the lives of others. Such ladies possess plenty of pluck, but not the necessary knowledge to guide their valour to act in safety. A Master of hounds told me that his nerve was so bad that he positively prayed for frost! At the end of one season he gave up the hounds; but he is again hunting them, so his nerve must have become strong. Mr. Scarth Dixon, writing on this subject, says: “It is a curious quality, that of nerve. A man’s nerve, by which I mean his riding nerve, will go from him in a day; it will sometimes, but not frequently, come back to him as suddenly as it departed. Everyone who has hunted for any length of time and kept his eyes open must be able to call to mind many a man who has commenced his hunting career with apparent enthusiasm, who has gone, like the proverbial ‘blazes,’ for two or three seasons, taking croppers as all in a day’s work, and then all at once has given up hunting altogether because his nerve has gone. He has, perhaps, tried to ‘go’ for a season, enduring unknown tortures in the attempt, and then he has given up altogether. He has never joined the skirting brigade, not, perhaps, as some would suggest, because he was too proud to do so after having once been a first-flight man, but because he did not care sufficiently for hunting.” This writer knew a man who gave up riding to hounds because he had lost his nerve, and yet he continued to ride in steeplechases, which may be explained by the fact that the rider on a “flagged course” knows what is in front of him, and has little or nothing to fear from bad ground. Mr. Otho Paget considers that “a failing nerve may be always traced to the stomach,” and recommends moderation in eating, drinking, and smoking. Frank Beers, the famous huntsman of the Grafton, had his hunting career closed by a severe illness, which apparently deprived him of all his former dash. Mr. Elliot says: “At the commencement of the season (1890-91) an attempt was made by the poor man to resume his duties, but one hour’s trial proved to Mr. Robarts and those present that all hope had vanished, and the above-named gentleman, being in charge during Lord Penrhyn’s absence, sent the hounds home.” Huntsmen, like other riding men, generally lose some of their nerve after forty. Mr. Otho Paget tells us that the late Tom Firr was the only huntsman he ever knew who retained his riding nerve to the end. He was riding brilliantly at fifty-eight, in his last season with the Quorn, when he met with an accident which compelled him to resign his post. With Lord Lonsdale as Master, and Tom Firr as huntsman, the Quorn possessed two of the most perfect horsemen who ever crossed Leicestershire.

I think the best treatment for a lady suffering from loss of nerve is, first of all, to attend to her health, which will probably be out of order; then get a steady horse or pony and ride him quietly for a time, and the chances are that the good nerve will all come back again. It grieves people who have been unable, from various causes, to keep up their riding practice, to think that they have lost their nerve, and they brood over it until they often imagine they are past hope of recovery, but that is a great mistake. This feeling can be struggled against, and, in most cases, conquered, by quiet measures. Nothing but the most “confidential” animal will help to do it, so I would warn my riding brethren not to make matters worse for their womenkind by providing any other kind of mount.