Black Beauty. Anna Sewell
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of me, and so does James. Are you going to live next door to me in the box?’
I said, ‘Yes.’
‘Well, then,’ he said, ‘I hope you are good-tempered; I do not like any one next door who bites.’
Just then a horse’s head looked over from the stall beyond; the ears were laid back, and the eye looked rather ill-tempered. This was a tall chestnut mare, with a long handsome neck; she looked across to me and said:
‘So it is you who have turned me out of my box; it is a very strange thing for a colt like you, to come and turn a lady out of her own home.’
‘I beg your pardon,’ I said, ‘I have turned no one out; the man who brought me put me here, and I had nothing to do with it; and as to my being a colt, I am turned four years old, and am a grown-up horse; I never had words yet with horse or mare, and it is my wish to live at peace.’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘we shall see; of course I do not want to have words with a young thing like you.’ I said no more.
In the afternoon when she went out, Merrylegs told me all about it.
‘The thing is this,’ said Merrylegs, ‘Ginger has a bad habit of biting and snapping; that is why they call her Ginger, and when she was in the loose box, she used to snap very much. One day she bit James in the arm and made it bleed, and so Miss Flora and Miss Jessie, who are very fond of me, were afraid to come into the stable. They used to bring me nice things to eat, an apple or a carrot, or a piece of bread, but after Ginger stood in that box, they dare not come, and I missed them very much. I hope they will now come again, if you do not bite or snap.’
I told him I never bit anything but grass, hay, and corn, and could not think what pleasure Ginger found in it.
‘Well, I don’t think she does find pleasure,’ says Merrylegs; ‘it is just a bad habit; she says no one was ever kind to her, and why should she not bite? Of course it is a very bad habit; but I am sure, if all she says be true, she must have been very ill-used before she came here. John does all he can to please her, and James does all he can, and our master never uses a whip if a horse acts right; so I think she might be good-tempered here; you see,’ he said with a wise look, ‘I am twelve years old; I know a great deal, and I can tell you there is not a better place for a horse all round the country than this. John is the best groom that ever was, he has been here fourteen years; and you never saw such a kind boy as James is, so that it is all Ginger’s own fault that she did not stay in that box.’
The name of the coachman was John Manly; he had a wife and one little child, and they lived in the coachman’s cottage, very near the stables.
The next morning he took me into the yard and gave me a good grooming, and just as I was going into my box with my coat soft and bright, the Squire came in to look at me, and seemed pleased. ‘John,’ he said, ‘I meant to have tried the new horse this morning, but I have other business. You may as well take him around after breakfast; go by the common and the Highwood, and back by the water-mill and the river, that will show his paces.’
‘I will, sir,’ said John. After breakfast he came and fitted me with a bridle. He was very particular in letting out and taking in the straps, to fit my head comfortably; then he brought the saddle, that was not broad enough for my back; he saw it in a minute and went for another, which fitted nicely. He rode me first slowly, then a trot, then a canter, and when we were on the common he gave me a light touch with his whip, and we had a splendid gallop.
‘Ho, ho! my boy,’ he said, as he pulled me up, ‘you would like to follow the hounds, I think.’
As we came back through the Park we met the Squire and Mrs Gordon walking; they stopped, and John jumped off.
‘Well, John, how does he go?’
‘First-rate, sir,’ answered John, ‘he is as fleet as a deer, and has a fine spirit too; but the lightest touch of the rein will guide him. Down at the end of the common we met one of those travelling carts hung all over with baskets, rugs, and such like; you know, sir, many horses will not pass those carts quietly; he just took a good look at it, and then went on as quiet and pleasant as could be. They were shooting rabbits near the Highwood, and a gun went off close by; he pulled up a little and looked, but did not stir a step to right or left. I just held the rein steady and did not hurry him, and it’s my opinion he has not been frightened or ill-used while he was young.’
‘That’s well,’ said the Squire, ‘I will try him myself tomorrow.’
The next day I was brought up for my master. I remembered my mother’s counsel and my good old master’s, and I tried to do exactly what he wanted me to do. I found he was a very good rider, and thoughtful for his horse too. When we came home the lady was at the hall door as he rode up.
‘Well, my dear,’ she said, ‘how do you like him?’
‘He is exactly what John said,’ he replied; ‘a pleasanter creature I never wished to mount. What shall we call him?’
‘Would you like Ebony?’ said she, ‘he is as black as ebony.’
‘No, not Ebony.’
‘Will you call him Blackbird, like your uncle’s old horse?’
‘No, he is far handsomer than old Blackbird ever was.’
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘he is really quite a beauty, and he has such a sweet good-tempered face and such a fine intelligent eye – what do you say to calling him Black Beauty?’
‘Black Beauty – why, yes, I think that is a very good name. If you like it shall be his name,’ and so it was.
When John went into the stable, he told James that master and mistress had chosen a good sensible English name for me, that meant something, not like Marengo, or Pegasus, or Abdallah. They both laughed, and James said, ‘If it was not for bringing back the past, I should have named him Rob Roy, for I never saw two horses more alike.’
‘That’s no wonder,’ said John, ‘didn’t you know that farmer Grey’s old Duchess was the mother of them both?’
I had never heard that before, and so poor Rob Roy who was killed at that hunt was my brother! I did not wonder that my mother was so troubled. It seems that horses have no relations; at least, they never know each other after they are sold.
John seemed very proud of me: he used to make my mane and tail almost as smooth as a lady’s hair, and he would talk to me a great deal; of course I did not understand all he said, but I learned more and more to know what he meant, and what he wanted me to do. I grew very fond of him, he was so gentle and kind, he seemed to know just how a horse feels, and when he cleaned me, he knew the tender places, and the ticklish places; when he brushed my head, he went as carefully over my eyes as if they were his own, and never stirred up any ill-temper.
James Howard, the stable boy, was just as gentle and pleasant in his way, so I thought myself well off. There was another man who helped in the yard, but he had very little to do with Ginger and me.
A few days after this I had to go out with Ginger in the carriage. I wondered how we should get on together; but except laying her ears back when I was led up to her, she behaved very well. She did her work honestly, and did her full share, and I never wish to have a better partner in double harness. When we came to a hill, instead of slackening her pace, she would throw her weight right into the collar, and pull away straight up. We had both the same sort of courage at our work, and John had oftener to hold us in, than to urge us forward; he never had to use the whip with either of us; then our paces were much the same, and I found it very easy to keep step with her when trotting, which made it pleasant and master always liked it when we kept step well, and so did John. After we had been out two or three times together we grew quite friendly and sociable, which made me feel very much at home.