Black Beauty

by Anna Sewell

  The first stall was a large square one, shut in behind with a woodengate; the others were common stalls, good stalls, but not nearly solarge; it had a low rack for hay and a low manger for corn; it wascalled a loose box, because the horse that was put into it was not tiedup, but left loose, to do as he liked. It is a great thing to have aloose box.

  Into this fine box the groom put me; it was clean, sweet, and airy. Inever was in a better box than that, and the sides were not so high butthat I could see all that went on through the iron rails that were atthe top.

  He gave me some very nice oats, he patted me, spoke kindly, and thenwent away.

  When I had eaten my corn I looked round. In the stall next to mine stooda little fat gray pony, with a thick mane and tail, a very pretty head,and a pert little nose.

  I put my head up to the iron rails at the top of my box, and said, "Howdo you do? What is your name?"

  He turned round as far as his halter would allow, held up his head,and said, "My name is Merrylegs. I am very handsome; I carry the youngladies on my back, and sometimes I take our mistress out in the lowchair. They think a great deal of me, and so does James. Are you goingto 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 anyone next door who bites."

  Just then a horse's head looked over from the stall beyond; the earswere laid back, and the eye looked rather ill-tempered. This was a tallchestnut mare, with a long handsome neck. She looked across to me andsaid:

  "So it is you who have turned me out of my box; it is a very strangething 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 whobrought me put me here, and I had nothing to do with it; and as to mybeing a colt, I am turned four years old and am a grown-up horse. Inever had words yet with horse or mare, and it is my wish to live atpeace."

  "Well," she said, "we shall see. Of course, I do not want to have wordswith 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 bitingand snapping; that is why they call her Ginger, and when she was in theloose box she used to snap very much. One day she bit James in the armand made it bleed, and so Miss Flora and Miss Jessie, who are very fondof me, were afraid to come into the stable. They used to bring me nicethings to eat, an apple or a carrot, or a piece of bread, but afterGinger stood in that box they dared not come, and I missed them verymuch. 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 notthink what pleasure Ginger found it.

  "Well, I don't think she does find pleasure," says Merrylegs; "it isjust a bad habit; she says no one was ever kind to her, and why shouldshe not bite? Of course, it is a very bad habit; but I am sure, if allshe 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 ourmaster never uses a whip if a horse acts right; so I think she might begood-tempered here. You see," he said, with a wise look, "I am twelveyears old; I know a great deal, and I can tell you there is not a betterplace for a horse all round the country than this. John is the bestgroom that ever was; he has been here fourteen years; and you never sawsuch a kind boy as James is; so that it is all Ginger's own fault thatshe did not stay in that box."

  05 A Fair Start

  The name of the coachman was John Manly; he had a wife and one littlechild, 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, thesquire 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 otherbusiness. You may as well take him around after breakfast; go by thecommon and the Highwood, and back by the watermill and the river; thatwill show his paces."

  "I will, sir," said John. After breakfast he came and fitted me with abridle. He was very particular in letting out and taking in the straps,to fit my head comfortably; then he brought a saddle, but it was notbroad 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 acanter, and when we were on the common he gave me a light touch with hiswhip, and we had a splendid gallop.

  "Ho, ho! my boy," he said, as he pulled me up, "you would like to followthe hounds, I think."

  As we came back through the park we met the Squire and Mrs. Gordonwalking; 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 afine spirit too; but the lightest touch of the rein will guide him. Downat the end of the common we met one of those traveling carts hung allover with baskets, rugs, and such like; you know, sir, many horses willnot pass those carts quietly; he just took a good look at it, and thenwent on as quiet and pleasant as could be. They were shooting rabbitsnear the Highwood, and a gun went off close by; he pulled up a littleand looked, but did not stir a step to right or left. I just held therein steady and did not hurry him, and it's my opinion he has not beenfrightened or ill-used while he was young."

  "That's well," said the squire, "I will try him myself to-morrow."

  The next day I was brought up for my master. I remembered my mother'scounsel and my good old master's, and I tried to do exactly what hewanted me to do. I found he was a very good rider, and thoughtful forhis horse too. When he came home the lady was at the hall door as herode up.

  "Well, my dear," she said, "how do you like him?"

  "He is exactly what John said," he replied; "a pleasanter creature Inever wish 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 tocalling him Black Beauty?"

  "Black Beauty--why, yes, I think that is a very good name. If you likeit shall be his name;" and so it was.

  When John went into the stable he told James that master and mistresshad chosen a good, sensible English name for me, that meant something;not like Marengo, or Pegasus, or Abdallah. They both laughed, and Jamessaid, "If it was not for bringing back the past, I should have named himRob Roy, for I never saw two horses more alike."

  "That's no wonder," said John; "didn't you know that Farmer Grey's oldDuchess was the mother of them both?"

  I had never heard that before; and so poor Rob Roy who was killedat that hunt was my brother! I did not wonder that my mother was sotroubled. It seems that horses have no relations; at least they neverknow each other after they are sold.

  John seemed very proud of me; he used to make my mane and tail almost assmooth as a lady's hair, and he would talk to me a great deal; of courseI did not understand all he said, but I learned more and more to knowwhat he meant, and what he wanted me to do. I grew very fond of him, hewas so gentle and kind; he seemed to know just how a horse feels, andwhen 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 theywere his own, and never stirred up any ill-temper.

  James Howard, the stable boy, was just as gentle and pleasant in hisway, so I thought myself well off. There was another man who helped inthe 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. Iwondered how we should get on together; but except laying her earsback when I was led up to her, she behaved very well. She did her workhonestly, and did her full share, and I never wish to have a bett
erpartner in double harness. When we came to a hill, instead of slackeningher pace, she would throw her weight right into the collar, and pullaway straight up. We had both the same sort of courage at our work, andJohn had oftener to hold us in than to urge us forward; he never had touse the whip with either of us; then our paces were much the same, andI found it very easy to keep step with her when trotting, which made itpleasant, and master always liked it when we kept step well, and so didJohn. After we had been out two or three times together we grew quitefriendly and sociable, which made me feel very much at home.

  As for Merrylegs, he and I soon became great friends; he was such acheerful, plucky, good-tempered little fellow that he was a favoritewith every one, and especially with Miss Jessie and Flora, who used toride him about in the orchard, and have fine games with him and theirlittle dog Frisky.

  Our master had two other horses that stood in another stable. One wasJustice, a roan cob, used for riding or for the luggage cart; the otherwas an old brown hunter, named Sir Oliver; he was past work now, but wasa great favorite with the master, who gave him the run of the park; hesometimes did a little light carting on the estate, or carried one ofthe young ladies when they rode out with their father, for he was verygentle and could be trusted with a child as well as Merrylegs. The cobwas a strong, well-made, good-tempered horse, and we sometimes had alittle chat in the paddock, but of course I could not be so intimatewith him as with Ginger, who stood in the same stable.

  06 Liberty

  I was quite happy in my new place, and if there was one thing that Imissed it must not be thought I was discontented; all who had to do withme were good and I had a light airy stable and the best of food. Whatmore could I want? Why, liberty! For three years and a half of my lifeI had had all the liberty I could wish for; but now, week after week,month after month, and no doubt year after year, I must stand up in astable night and day except when I am wanted, and then I must be justas steady and quiet as any old horse who has worked twenty years. Strapshere and straps there, a bit in my mouth, and blinkers over my eyes.Now, I am not complaining, for I know it must be so. I only mean to saythat for a young horse full of strength and spirits, who has been usedto some large field or plain where he can fling up his head and toss uphis tail and gallop away at full speed, then round and back again witha snort to his companions--I say it is hard never to have a bit moreliberty to do as you like. Sometimes, when I have had less exercise thanusual, I have felt so full of life and spring that when John has takenme out to exercise I really could not keep quiet; do what I would, itseemed as if I must jump, or dance, or prance, and many a good shake Iknow I must have given him, especially at the first; but he was alwaysgood and patient.

  "Steady, steady, my boy," he would say; "wait a bit, and we will have agood swing, and soon get the tickle out of your feet." Then as soon aswe were out of the village, he would give me a few miles at a spankingtrot, and then bring me back as fresh as before, only clear of thefidgets, as he called them. Spirited horses, when not enough exercised,are often called skittish, when it is only play; and some grooms willpunish them, but our John did not; he knew it was only high spirits.Still, he had his own ways of making me understand by the tone ofhis voice or the touch of the rein. If he was very serious and quitedetermined, I always knew it by his voice, and that had more power withme than anything else, for I was very fond of him.

  I ought to say that sometimes we had our liberty for a few hours; thisused to be on fine Sundays in the summer-time. The carriage never wentout on Sundays, because the church was not far off.

  It was a great treat to us to be turned out into the home paddock orthe old orchard; the grass was so cool and soft to our feet, the air sosweet, and the freedom to do as we liked was so pleasant--to gallop, tolie down, and roll over on our backs, or to nibble the sweet grass.Then it was a very good time for talking, as we stood together under theshade of the large chestnut tree.

  07 Ginger

  One day when Ginger and I were standing alone in the shade, we had agreat deal of talk; she wanted to know all about my bringing up andbreaking in, and I told her.

  "Well," said she, "if I had had your bringing up I might have had asgood a temper as you, but now I don't believe I ever shall."

  "Why not?" I said.

  "Because it has been all so different with me," she replied. "I neverhad any one, horse or man, that was kind to me, or that I cared toplease, for in the first place I was taken from my mother as soon as Iwas weaned, and put with a lot of other young colts; none of them caredfor me, and I cared for none of them. There was no kind master likeyours to look after me, and talk to me, and bring me nice things to eat.The man that had the care of us never gave me a kind word in my life.I do not mean that he ill-used me, but he did not care for us onebit further than to see that we had plenty to eat, and shelter in thewinter. A footpath ran through our field, and very often the great boyspassing through would fling stones to make us gallop. I was never hit,but one fine young colt was badly cut in the face, and I should thinkit would be a scar for life. We did not care for them, but of courseit made us more wild, and we settled it in our minds that boys were ourenemies. We had very good fun in the free meadows, galloping up and downand chasing each other round and round the field; then standing stillunder the shade of the trees. But when it came to breaking in, that wasa bad time for me; several men came to catch me, and when at last theyclosed me in at one corner of the field, one caught me by the forelock,another caught me by the nose and held it so tight I could hardly drawmy breath; then another took my under jaw in his hard hand and wrenchedmy mouth open, and so by force they got on the halter and the bar intomy mouth; then one dragged me along by the halter, another floggingbehind, and this was the first experience I had of men's kindness; itwas all force. They did not give me a chance to know what they wanted.I was high bred and had a great deal of spirit, and was very wild, nodoubt, and gave them, I dare say, plenty of trouble, but then it wasdreadful to be shut up in a stall day after day instead of having myliberty, and I fretted and pined and wanted to get loose. You knowyourself it's bad enough when you have a kind master and plenty ofcoaxing, but there was nothing of that sort for me.

  "There was one--the old master, Mr. Ryder--who, I think, could soon havebrought me round, and could have done anything with me; but he had givenup all the hard part of the trade to his son and to another experiencedman, and he only came at times to oversee. His son was a strong, tall,bold man; they called him Samson, and he used to boast that he had neverfound a horse that could throw him. There was no gentleness in him, asthere was in his father, but only hardness, a hard voice, a hard eye, ahard hand; and I felt from the first that what he wanted was to wear allthe spirit out of me, and just make me into a quiet, humble, obedientpiece of horseflesh. 'Horseflesh'! Yes, that is all that he thoughtabout," and Ginger stamped her foot as if the very thought of him madeher angry. Then she went on:

  "If I did not do exactly what he wanted he would get put out, and makeme run round with that long rein in the training field till he hadtired me out. I think he drank a good deal, and I am quite sure that theoftener he drank the worse it was for me. One day he had worked me hardin every way he could, and when I lay down I was tired, and miserable,and angry; it all seemed so hard. The next morning he came for me early,and ran me round again for a long time. I had scarcely had an hour'srest, when he came again for me with a saddle and bridle and a new kindof bit. I could never quite tell how it came about; he had only justmounted me on the training ground, when something I did put him outof temper, and he chucked me hard with the rein. The new bit was verypainful, and I reared up suddenly, which angered him still more, and hebegan to flog me. I felt my whole spirit set against him, and I beganto kick, and plunge, and rear as I had never done before, and we had aregular fight; for a long time he stuck to the saddle and punished mecruelly with his whip and spurs, but my blood was thoroughly up, and Icared for nothing he could do if only I could get him off. At last aftera terrible struggle I th
rew him off backward. I heard him fall heavilyon the turf, and without looking behind me, I galloped off to the otherend of the field; there I turned round and saw my persecutor slowlyrising from the ground and going into the stable. I stood under an oaktree and watched, but no one came to catch me. The time went on, and thesun was very hot; the flies swarmed round me and settled on my bleedingflanks where the spurs had dug in. I felt hungry, for I had not eatensince the early morning, but there was not enough grass in that meadowfor a goose to live on. I wanted to lie down and rest, but with thesaddle strapped tightly on there was no comfort, and there was not adrop of water to drink. The afternoon wore on, and the sun got low. Isaw the other colts led in, and I knew they were having a good feed.

  "At last, just as the sun went down, I saw the old master come out witha sieve in his hand. He was a very fine old gentleman with quite whitehair, but his voice was what I should know him by among a thousand. Itwas not high, nor yet low, but full, and clear, and kind, and whenhe gave orders it was so steady and decided that every one knew, bothhorses and men, that he expected to be obeyed. He came quietly along,now and then shaking the oats about that he had in the sieve, andspeaking cheerfully and gently to me: 'Come along, lassie, come along,lassie; come along, come along.' I stood still and let him come up; heheld the oats to me, and I began to eat without fear; his voice took allmy fear away. He stood by, patting and stroking me while I was eating,and seeing the clots of blood on my side he seemed very vexed. 'Poorlassie! it was a bad business, a bad business;' then he quietly took therein and led me to the stable; just at the door stood Samson. I laid myears back and snapped at him. 'Stand back,' said the master, 'and keepout of her way; you've done a bad day's work for this filly.' He growledout something about a vicious brute. 'Hark ye,' said the father, 'abad-tempered man will never make a good-tempered horse. You've notlearned your trade yet, Samson.' Then he led me into my box, took offthe saddle and bridle with his own hands, and tied me up; then he calledfor a pail of warm water and a sponge, took off his coat, and while thestable-man held the pail, he sponged my sides a good while, so tenderlythat I was sure he knew how sore and bruised they were. 'Whoa! my prettyone,' he said, 'stand still, stand still.' His very voice did me good,and the bathing was very comfortable. The skin was so broken at thecorners of my mouth that I could not eat the hay, the stalks hurt me. Helooked closely at it, shook his head, and told the man to fetch a goodbran mash and put some meal into it. How good that mash was! and so softand healing to my mouth. He stood by all the time I was eating, strokingme and talking to the man. 'If a high-mettled creature like this,'said he, 'can't be broken by fair means, she will never be good foranything.'