Black Beauty Page 11

  I thought the fee below my worth

  Because I was of noble birth

  It would have been very nice

  If £50 was my minimum price.

  One day, die groom cleaned and dressed me in a suit with such extraordinary care that I thought some new change must be at hand; he trimmed my fetlocks and legs, passed the tarbrush over my hoofs, parted my forelock, and flattened it down with Macassar oil. I think the harness had an extra polish. Willie seemed half-anxious, half-merry as he got into the chaise with his grandfather.

  ‘If the ladies take to him,’ said the old gentleman, ‘they’ll be suited.’

  We came to a pretty, low house with a lawn and shrubbery at the front, and a drive up to the door. Willie rang the bell and asked if Miss Blomefield or Miss Ellen was at home. Yes, they were. So, whilst Willie stayed with me, Mr Thoroughgood went into the house. In about ten minutes he returned, followed by three ladies. The younger lady — that was Miss Ellen — took to me very much; she said she was sure she would like me.

  ‘You have always been such a good adviser to us about our horses, and sexual proclivities,’ said the stately lady, ‘we will accept your offer of a trial.’ At the trial they were found Not Guilty.

  One morning, a smart-looking young man who was held together with acne came for me. When he saw my knees, he said:

  ‘I didn’t think, sir, you would have recommended my ladies a horse with knock-knees.’

  ‘You are only taking him on trial, young man, and if he is not as safe as any horse you ever drove, send him back,’ said my master.

  I was led home, placed in a comfortable stable, fed and left to myself. The next day, when my groom was cleaning my face, he said:

  ‘That is just like the star that Black Beauty had; he is much the same height too.’ He began to look me over carefully, talking to himself:

  ‘White star in the forehead, one white foot on the off side, this little knot just in that place’ — then, looking at the middle of my back — ‘Good heavens! it must be Black Beauty; there is that little patch of white hair that John used to call Beauty’s threepenny bit. It must be Black Beauty!’ (Good heavens, it was Black Beauty!) ‘Why, Beauty! Beauty! Do you know me? Little Joe Green, that almost killed you?’

  I could not say that I remembered him, for now he was a fine-grown young fellow, with black whiskers and a man’s voice, and cross eyes — no wonder he nearly killed me. He was Joe Green. I never saw a man so pleased. He was so pleased that he climbed a tree and jumped in the river; they had to drag the water.

  ‘Give you a fair trial? I should think so indeed! I wonder who the rascal was that broke your knees, my old Beauty? You must have been badly served out there somewhere.’ Yes, out there somewhere, I was.

  ‘Well, well, it won’t be my fault if you haven’t good times of it now. I wish John Manly was here to see you.’ He wished and wished, but John Manly didn’t appear; mainly because he was dead.

  In the afternoon, I was put into a low Park chair and pushed to the door. Miss Ellen was going to try me. I soon found that she was a good driver, and she seemed pleased with my paces. I heard Joe telling her about me.

  ‘I shall certainly write to Mrs Gordon, and tell her that her favourite horse has come to us with knock-knees. How pleased she will be!’

  The swine, how dare he give away my knock-knees. So the next day, I kicked him in the balls. It was like old times.

  I have now lived in this happy place a whole year; I have my own bedroom with a bathroom ensuite. Joe is the best and kindest of grooms, but with the curse of cross eyes keeps missing me. My work is easy and pleasant (I help wash up in the kitchen), and I feel my strength all coming back. Mr Thoroughgood said to Joe the other day:

  ‘He will last till he is twenty years old — perhaps more.’ My ladies have promised that I shall never be sold, and so I have nothing to fear; and here my story ends. My troubles are over, all over me, hah, and I am at home; and often, before I am quite awake, I fancy I am still in the orchard at Birtwick, standing with my old friends under the apple trees and Dick the plough throwing stones at us.

  1 Carriages.

  2 A cover up for the act of castration.

  3 A coarse soldier entertainment.

  PART ONE

  EARLY HOME

  MY EARLY HOME

  THE HUNT

  MY BREAKING IN

  BIRTWICK PARK

  A FAIR START

  LIBERTY

  GINGER

  GINGER’S STORY CONTINUED

  MERRYLEGS

  A TALK IN THE ORCHARD

  PLAIN SPEAKING

  A STORMY DAY

  THE DEVIL’S TRADE MARK

  JAMES HOWARD

  THE OLD OSTLER

  THE FIRE

  JOHN MANLY’S TALE

  GOING FOR THE DOCTOR

  ONLY IGNORANCE

  JOE GREEN

  THE PARTING

  EARLSHALL

  A STRIKE FOR LIBERTY

  THE LADY ANNE

  REUBEN SMITH

  HOW IT ENDED

  RUINED AND GOING DOWNHILL

  A JOB-HORSE AND HIS DRIVERS

  COCKNEYS

  A THIEF

  A HUMBUG

  A HORSE FAIR

  A LONDON CAB HORSE

  AN OLD WAR HORSE

  JERRY BARKER

  THE SUNDAY CAB

  THE GOLDEN RULE

  DOLLY AND A REAL GENTLEMAN

  SEEDY SAM

  POOR GINGER

  THE BUTCHER

  THE ELECTION

  A FRIEND IN NEED

  OLD CAPTAIN AND HIS SUCCESSOR

  JERRY’S NEW YEAR

  JAKES AND THE LADY

  HARD TIMES

  FARMER THOROUGHGOOD AND HIS GRANDSON WILLIE

  MY LAST HOME