Black Beauty The autobiography of a horse
and slept in spite of the pain.
The next day after the farrier had examined my wounds, he said he hoped
the joint was not injured; and if so, I should not be spoiled for work,
but I should never lose the blemish. I believe they did the best to make
a good cure, but it was a long and painful one. Proud flesh, as they
called it, came up in my knees, and was burned out with caustic; and
when at last it was healed, they put a blistering fluid over the front
of both knees to bring all the hair off; they had some reason for this,
and I suppose it was all right.
As Smith's death had been so sudden, and no one was there to see it,
there was an inquest held. The landlord and hostler at the White Lion,
with several other people, gave evidence that he was intoxicated when he
started from the inn. The keeper of the toll-gate said he rode at a hard
gallop through the gate; and my shoe was picked up among the stones, so
that the case was quite plain to them, and I was cleared of all blame.
Everybody pitied Susan. She was nearly out of her mind; she kept saying
over and over again, “Oh! he was so good--so good! It was all that
cursed drink; why will they sell that cursed drink? Oh Reuben, Reuben!”
So she went on till after he was buried; and then, as she had no home or
relations, she, with her six little children, was obliged once more to
leave the pleasant home by the tall oak-trees, and go into that great
gloomy Union House.
27 Ruined and Going Downhill
As soon as my knees were sufficiently healed I was turned into a small
meadow for a month or two; no other creature was there; and though I
enjoyed the liberty and the sweet grass, yet I had been so long used to
society that I felt very lonely. Ginger and I had become fast friends,
and now I missed her company extremely. I often neighed when I heard
horses' feet passing in the road, but I seldom got an answer; till one
morning the gate was opened, and who should come in but dear old Ginger.
The man slipped off her halter, and left her there. With a joyful whinny
I trotted up to her; we were both glad to meet, but I soon found that it
was not for our pleasure that she was brought to be with me. Her story
would be too long to tell, but the end of it was that she had been
ruined by hard riding, and was now turned off to see what rest would do.
Lord George was young and would take no warning; he was a hard rider,
and would hunt whenever he could get the chance, quite careless of his
horse. Soon after I left the stable there was a steeplechase, and he
determined to ride. Though the groom told him she was a little strained,
and was not fit for the race, he did not believe it, and on the day of
the race urged Ginger to keep up with the foremost riders. With her high
spirit, she strained herself to the utmost; she came in with the first
three horses, but her wind was touched, besides which he was too heavy
for her, and her back was strained. “And so,” she said, “here we are,
ruined in the prime of our youth and strength, you by a drunkard, and I
by a fool; it is very hard.” We both felt in ourselves that we were not
what we had been. However, that did not spoil the pleasure we had in
each other's company; we did not gallop about as we once did, but we
used to feed, and lie down together, and stand for hours under one
of the shady lime-trees with our heads close to each other; and so we
passed our time till the family returned from town.
One day we saw the earl come into the meadow, and York was with him.
Seeing who it was, we stood still under our lime-tree, and let them come
up to us. They examined us carefully. The earl seemed much annoyed.
“There is three hundred pounds flung away for no earthly use,” said he;
“but what I care most for is that these horses of my old friend, who
thought they would find a good home with me, are ruined. The mare shall
have a twelve-month's run, and we shall see what that will do for her;
but the black one, he must be sold; 'tis a great pity, but I could not
have knees like these in my stables.”
“No, my lord, of course not,” said York; “but he might get a place where
appearance is not of much consequence, and still be well treated. I know
a man in Bath, the master of some livery stables, who often wants a
good horse at a low figure; I know he looks well after his horses.
The inquest cleared the horse's character, and your lordship's
recommendation, or mine, would be sufficient warrant for him.”
“You had better write to him, York. I should be more particular about
the place than the money he would fetch.”
After this they left us.
“They'll soon take you away,” said Ginger, “and I shall lose the only
friend I have, and most likely we shall never see each other again. 'Tis
a hard world!”
About a week after this Robert came into the field with a halter, which
he slipped over my head, and led me away. There was no leave-taking
of Ginger; we neighed to each other as I was led off, and she trotted
anxiously along by the hedge, calling to me as long as she could hear
the sound of my feet.
Through the recommendation of York, I was bought by the master of the
livery stables. I had to go by train, which was new to me, and required
a good deal of courage the first time; but as I found the puffing,
rushing, whistling, and, more than all, the trembling of the horse-box
in which I stood did me no real harm, I soon took it quietly.
When I reached the end of my journey I found myself in a tolerably
comfortable stable, and well attended to. These stables were not so
airy and pleasant as those I had been used to. The stalls were laid on
a slope instead of being level, and as my head was kept tied to the
manger, I was obliged always to stand on the slope, which was very
fatiguing. Men do not seem to know yet that horses can do more work if
they can stand comfortably and can turn about; however, I was well fed
and well cleaned, and, on the whole, I think our master took as much
care of us as he could. He kept a good many horses and carriages of
different kinds for hire. Sometimes his own men drove them; at
others, the horse and chaise were let to gentlemen or ladies who drove
themselves.
28 A Job Horse and His Drivers
Hitherto I had always been driven by people who at least knew how to
drive; but in this place I was to get my experience of all the different
kinds of bad and ignorant driving to which we horses are subjected; for
I was a “job horse”, and was let out to all sorts of people who wished
to hire me; and as I was good-tempered and gentle, I think I was oftener
let out to the ignorant drivers than some of the other horses, because
I could be depended upon. It would take a long time to tell of all the
different styles in which I was driven, but I will mention a few of
them.
First, there were the tight-rein drivers--men who seemed to think that
all depended on holding the reins as hard as they could, never relaxing
the pull on the horse's mouth, or giving him the least liberty of
movement. They are always talking about “keeping the horse well in
hand”, and “holding a horse up”, just as if a horse was not made to hold
himself up.
Some poor, broken-down horses, whose mouths have been made hard and
insensible by just such drivers as these, may, perhaps, find some
support in it; but for a horse who can depend upon his own legs, and who
has a tender mouth and is easily guided, it is not only tormenting, but
it is stupid.
Then there are the loose-rein drivers, who let the reins lie easily on
our backs, and their own hand rest lazily on their knees. Of course,
such gentlemen have no control over a horse, if anything happens
suddenly. If a horse shies, or starts, or stumbles, they are nowhere,
and cannot help the horse or themselves till the mischief is done. Of
course, for myself I had no objection to it, as I was not in the habit
either of starting or stumbling, and had only been used to depend on my
driver for guidance and encouragement. Still, one likes to feel the rein
a little in going downhill, and likes to know that one's driver is not
gone to sleep.
Besides, a slovenly way of driving gets a horse into bad and often lazy
habits, and when he changes hands he has to be whipped out of them with
more or less pain and trouble. Squire Gordon always kept us to our best
paces and our best manners. He said that spoiling a horse and letting
him get into bad habits was just as cruel as spoiling a child, and both
had to suffer for it afterward.
Besides, these drivers are often careless altogether, and will attend to
anything else more than their horses. I went out in the phaeton one day
with one of them; he had a lady and two children behind. He flopped the
reins about as we started, and of course gave me several unmeaning cuts
with the whip, though I was fairly off. There had been a good deal of
road-mending going on, and even where the stones were not freshly laid
down there were a great many loose ones about. My driver was laughing
and joking with the lady and the children, and talking about the country
to the right and the left; but he never thought it worth while to keep
an eye on his horse or to drive on the smoothest parts of the road; and
so it easily happened that I got a stone in one of my fore feet.
Now, if Mr. Gordon or John, or in fact any good driver, had been there,
he would have seen that something was wrong before I had gone three
paces. Or even if it had been dark a practiced hand would have felt by
the rein that there was something wrong in the step, and they would have
got down and picked out the stone. But this man went on laughing and
talking, while at every step the stone became more firmly wedged between
my shoe and the frog of my foot. The stone was sharp on the inside and
round on the outside, which, as every one knows, is the most dangerous
kind that a horse can pick up, at the same time cutting his foot and
making him most liable to stumble and fall.
Whether the man was partly blind or only very careless I can't say, but
he drove me with that stone in my foot for a good half-mile before he
saw anything. By that time I was going so lame with the pain that at
last he saw it, and called out, “Well, here's a go! Why, they have sent
us out with a lame horse! What a shame!”
He then chucked the reins and flipped about with the whip, saying, “Now,
then, it's no use playing the old soldier with me; there's the journey
to go, and it's no use turning lame and lazy.”
Just at this time a farmer came riding up on a brown cob. He lifted his
hat and pulled up.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” he said, “but I think there is something the
matter with your horse; he goes very much as if he had a stone in
his shoe. If you will allow me I will look at his feet; these loose
scattered stones are confounded dangerous things for the horses.”
“He's a hired horse,” said my driver. “I don't know what's the matter
with him, but it is a great shame to send out a lame beast like this.”
The farmer dismounted, and slipping his rein over his arm at once took
up my near foot.
“Bless me, there's a stone! Lame! I should think so!”
At first he tried to dislodge it with his hand, but as it was now
very tightly wedged he drew a stone-pick out of his pocket, and very
carefully and with some trouble got it out. Then holding it up he said,
“There, that's the stone your horse had picked up. It is a wonder he did
not fall down and break his knees into the bargain!”
“Well, to be sure!” said my driver; “that is a queer thing! I never knew
that horses picked up stones before.”
“Didn't you?” said the farmer rather contemptuously; “but they do,
though, and the best of them will do it, and can't help it sometimes on
such roads as these. And if you don't want to lame your horse you must