NERVE.
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.