Rating: 5/5
This little shining black colt was born with the most lovely mother, a grassy field to live and play in, and most of all, a kind master. He did not shame upon the little horse, nor did he kick, or whip to hard, and he had a light grip upon the reign when it came to his breaking in. He gave him bran mash and oats all the time, and the colt was delighted – yet he had no idea that soon enough, he would be sold away from his master, and away from his mother, and away from his field, and possibly, away from kindness.
The time did come, of course, and the horse was sold to the squire in the neighbouring village. He bought him and treated him well, luckily for him; and then he named him Black Beauty. The men who looked after him so nicely, John and James and Miss Bessie and Flora. He also had those warming friends close by him, Ginger and Sir Oliver and Merrylegs. Nothing could have been better – apart from how much he missed his family, and how much more liberty Beauty so wanted in his life.
Whenever the author comes across a time in the book when the colt (or, it could be, no longer a colt anymore) is out in the Victorian streets, I believe, he always finds some time when the reader can get to know horses. For instance, it shows boys behaving badly and terribly to ponies, or men whipping their colt when it turns the wrong direction, poor thing.
Two of the most charmingly horrible chapters were ‘The Hunt’ and a different one, named ‘The Fire’. They were both incredibly well-written, and made you feel about the horses brilliantly. In the first chapter, The Hunt, a man and a horse died painfully. The horse broke his leg and was shot, and later on in the book it is discovered that that horse was Rob Roy, brother of Black Beauty.
Back inside the great fire that happened in the stables over business, two horses were left in the stables. ‘There was a dreadful sound before we all got into the stables – the shrieks of those poor horses that were left burning to death in the stable.’ is one quote. ‘The two poor horses that could not be got out were buried under the burnt rafters and tiles.’ was another. It was terribly sad.
Black Beauty was moved from owner to owner, groom to groom; but still he could find no person on earth who seemed to feel good and encouraging about his horses. Soon, however, he found his own life good and pure with Master Jerry, a lovely, good chap with a daughter, son and wife, and a horrendous good mind for horses. He pulled up and complained whenever he saw horses ill-used, and he would be lovely to Black Beauty – or Jack, as he then called him. But from time to time, bad things happen, and young Jackie was given away to lots of other people.
He was given away to many angry and barking old blokes, who lashed him with the bearing rein and pulled tight up with the bit digging horrifically to the sides of his delicate mouth. Poor old Beauty – but then, a good horse accompanies good souls, and he was given to good old Farmer Thoroughgood and his grandson Willie.
They picked Black Beauty from the Horse Fair, and they were marvellously kind to him. He was given to Willie, a kind, generous young boy, as his own responsibility, but soon he gave it to Lady Ellen, and Miss Lavinia (the first time I’ve seen my own name in a book!) and their family, in kindly treated hands; and so he lived until he died with a glorious life.