Полная версия
Black Beauty
History of Collins
In 1819, Millworker William Collins from Glasgow, Scotland, set up a company for printing and publishing pamphlets, sermons, hymn books and prayer books. That company was Collins and was to mark the birth of HarperCollins Publishers as we know it today. The long tradition of Collins dictionary publishing can be traced back to the first dictionary William published in 1824, Greek and English Lexicon. Indeed, from 1840 onwards, he began to produce illustrated dictionaries and even obtained a licence to print and publish the Bible.
Soon after, William published the first Collins novel, Ready Reckoner, however it was the time of the Long Depression, where harvests were poor, prices were high, potato crops had failed and violence was erupting in Europe. As a result, many factories across the country were forced to close down and William chose to retire in 1846, partly due to the hardships he was facing.
Aged 30, William’s son, William II took over the business. A keen humanitarian with a warm heart and a generous spirit, William II was truly ‘Victorian’ in his outlook. He introduced new, up-to-date steam presses and published affordable editions of Shakespeare’s works and Pilgrim’s Progress, making them available to the masses for the first time. A new demand for educational books meant that success came with the publication of travel books, scientific books, encyclopaedias and dictionaries. This demand to be educated led to the later publication of atlases and Collins also held the monopoly on scripture writing at the time.
In the 1860s Collins began to expand and diversify and the idea of ‘books for the millions’ was developed. Affordable editions of classical literature were published and in 1903 Collins introduced 10 titles in their Collins Handy Illustrated Pocket Novels. These proved so popular that a few years later this had increased to an output of 50 volumes, selling nearly half a million in their year of publication. In the same year, The Everyman’s Library was also instituted, with the idea of publishing an affordable library of the most important classical works, biographies, religious and philosophical treatments, plays, poems, travel and adventure. This series eclipsed all competition at the time and the introduction of paperback books in the 1950s helped to open that market and marked a high point in the industry.
HarperCollins is and has always been a champion of the classics and the current Collins Classics series follows in this tradition – publishing classical literature that is affordable and available to all. Beautifully packaged, highly collectible and intended to be reread and enjoyed at every opportunity.
Life & Times
About the Author
Born in Norfolk, England in 1820, writer Anna Sewell is the perfect example of the well-known adage that everybody has one novel in them. Black Beauty is her one and only published work and it went to press just a few months before her death at the age of 58.
Sewell’s literary success has as much to do with exposure to the right influences as much as anything else. She was brought up as a Quaker and educated at home. Her mother became a successful children’s writer, and Sewell was involved with the editing of her books. At age 12, Sewell was sent to school in London for two years, but this exciting part of her life was short-lived as it was at school that she slipped and injured both her ankles. As a result she remained lame for the rest of her life, moving to Brighton with her parents for a change of air. She frequently attended European health spas to try and improve her health and met many creative people during her stays, including philosophers, writers and artists. It seems that this combination of experiences helped to plant the seed for Black Beauty, which she began to write six years prior to its publication in 1877.
Sewell was a deeply religious woman and claimed that her sole motive for writing Black Beauty was to urge people to treat horses with more kindness. Due to her condition, Sewell could not walk very far and she habitually relied on horse drawn vehicles to get about, so she was frequently close to and engaged with horses. In writing Black Beauty, Sewell imagined the character of the horse itself and invented an entirely new genre, where the story is told in the first ‘person’ by the eponymous horse.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.
Animal Welfare
The story of Black Beauty narrates the life of Black Beauty himself, from foal to working horse to pasture. Along the way the horse has a gamut of experiences where he and other horses are treated with kindness, indifference and cruelty by humans, enlightening the reader about the feelings and emotions of horses.
During the Victorian era people had little empathy for their beasts of burden, but that all changed when Black Beauty was published, especially because of the Christian message that people might be judged by their god if they failed to treat animals with consideration. There was a seesaw effect, so that the general population suddenly tilted in favour of animal welfare, and especially towards horses. Today a vestige of that effect is seen in the British reluctance to eat horse meat as if horses deserve reverence over other livestock.
Due to Sewell’s intimate knowledge of horses her attention to detail lends the book a sense of realism, and the narration of the story through the mouth of a horse is the perfect vehicle for displaying that knowledge. In fact that is where the phrase to hear something ‘straight from the horse’s mouth’ originates, in reference to Black Beauty.
In addition to encouraging people to desist from deliberate cruelty to horses, Sewell also brought into question certain established practices, including the use of blinkers, which prevent the horse from having a panoramic view, and the use of a check rein, which holds the horse’s head in a supposedly elegant, but unnatural posture.
In 1893 a similar book, titled Beautiful Joe, was published by Margaret Marshall Saunders. This time it was about a dog, but it was directly inspired by Black Beauty and was also a success. Marshall Saunders even wrote the book as a life story from the animal’s point of view, in homage to Sewell and she even alludes to Sewell’s book in her own.
Sewell’s real legacy was to connect emotionally with the reader via the animal’s mind. It was a trick really, as it supposed that animals are as sentient as humans, none-the-less it worked. All of a sudden Victorian society was tuned in to animal rights as the new way of showing how righteous one could be. Sewell succeeded in her aim as well as writing one of the best-loved novels of all time. In fact it remains one of the top 10 best selling English language books.
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Title Page
History of Collins
Life & Times
PART ONE
CHAPTER 1 My Early Home
CHAPTER 2 The Hunt
CHAPTER 3 My Breaking In
CHAPTER 4 Birtwick Park
CHAPTER 5 A Fair Start
CHAPTER 6 Liberty
CHAPTER 7 Ginger
CHAPTER 8 Ginger’s Story Continued
CHAPTER 9 Merrylegs
CHAPTER 10 A Talk in the Orchard
CHAPTER 11 Plain Speaking
CHAPTER 12 A Stormy Day
CHAPTER 13 The Devil’s Trade Mark
CHAPTER 14 James Howard
CHAPTER 15 The Old Ostler
CHAPTER 16 The Fire
CHAPTER 17 John Manly’s Talk
CHAPTER 18 Going for the Doctor
CHAPTER 19 Only Ignorance
CHAPTER 20 Joe Green
CHAPTER 21 The Parting
PART TWO
CHAPTER 22 Earlshall
CHAPTER 23 A Strike for Liberty
CHAPTER 24 The Lady Anne
CHAPTER 25 Reuben Smith
CHAPTER 26 How it Ended
CHAPTER 27 Ruined and Going Down-hill
CHAPTER 28 A Job-horse and His Drivers
CHAPTER 29 Cockneys
CHAPTER 30 A Thief
CHAPTER 31 A Humbug
PART THREE
CHAPTER 32 A Horse Fair
CHAPTER 33 A London Cab Horse
CHAPTER 34 An Old War Horse
CHAPTER 35 Jerry Barker
CHAPTER 36 The Sunday Cab
CHAPTER 37 The Golden Rule
CHAPTER 38 Dolly and a Real Gentleman
CHAPTER 39 Seedy Sam
CHAPTER 40 Poor Ginger
CHAPTER 41 The Butcher
CHAPTER 42 The Election
CHAPTER 43 A Friend in Need
CHAPTER 44 Old Captain and His Successor
CHAPTER 45 Jerry’s New Year
PART FOUR
CHAPTER 46 Jakes and the Lady
CHAPTER 47 Hard Times
CHAPTER 48 Farmer Thoroughgood and His Grandson Willie
CHAPTER 49 My Last Home
CLASSIC LITERATURE: WORDS AND PHRASES
Copyright
About the Publisher
CHAPTER 1 My Early Home
The first place that I can well remember was a large pleasant meadow with a pond of clear water in it. Some shady trees leaned over it, and rushes and water-lilies grew at the deep end. Over the hedge on one side we looked into a ploughed field, and on the other we looked over a gate at our master’s house, which stood by the roadside; at the top of the meadow was a plantation of fir trees, and at the bottom a running brook overhung by a steep bank.
Whilst I was young I lived upon my mother’s milk, as I could not eat grass. In the day time I ran by her side, and at night I lay down close by her. When it was hot, we used to stand by the pond in the shade of the trees, and when it was cold, we had a nice warm shed near the plantation.
As soon as I was old enough to eat grass, my mother used to go out to work in the day time, and came back in the evening.
There were six young colts in the meadow besides me; they were older than I was; some were nearly as large as grown-up horses. I used to run with them, and had great fun; we used to gallop all together round and round the field, as hard as we could go. Sometimes we had rather rough play, for they would frequently bite and kick as well as gallop.
One day, when there was a good deal of kicking, my mother whinnied to me to come to her, and then she said:
‘I wish you to pay attention to what I am going to say to you. The colts who live here are very good colts, but they are cart-horse colts, and, of course, they have not learned manners. You have been well bred and well born; your father has a great name in these parts, and your grandfather won the cup two years at the Newmarket races; your grandmother had the sweetest temper of any horse I ever knew, and I think you have never seen me kick or bite. I hope you will grow up gentle and good, and never learn bad ways; do your work with a good will, lift your feet up well when you trot, and never bite or kick even in play.’
I have never forgotten my mother’s advice; I knew she was a wise old horse, and our master thought a great deal of her. Her name was Duchess, but he often called her Pet.
Our master was a good, kind man. He gave us good food, good lodging, and kind words; he spoke as kindly to us as he did to his little children. We were all fond of him, and my mother loved him very much. When she saw him at the gate, she would neigh with joy, and trot up to him. He would pat and stroke her and say, ‘Well, old Pet, and how is your little Darkie?’ I was a dull black, so he called me Darkie; then he would give me a piece of bread, which was very good, and sometimes he brought a carrot for my mother. All the horses would come to him, but I think we were his favourites. My mother always took him to the town on a market day in a little gig.
There was a ploughboy, Dick, who sometimes came into our field to pluck blackberries from the hedge. When he had eaten all he wanted, he would have what he called fun with the colts, throwing stones and sticks at them to make them gallop. We did not much mind him, for we could gallop off; but sometimes a stone would hit and hurt us.
One day he was at this game, and did not know that the master was in the next field; but he was there, watching what was going on: over the hedge he jumped in a snap, and catching Dick by the arm, he gave him such a box on the ear as made him roar with the pain and surprise. As soon as we saw the master, we trotted up nearer to see what went on.
‘Bad boy!’ he said, ‘bad boy! to chase the colts. This is not the first time, nor the second, but it shall be the last – there – take your money and go home, I shall not want you on my farm again.’ So we never saw Dick any more. Old Daniel, the man who looked after the horses, was just as gentle as our master, so we were well off.
CHAPTER 2 The Hunt
Before I was two years old, a circumstance happened which I have never forgotten. It was early in the spring; there had been a little frost in the night, and a light mist still hung over the plantations and meadows. I and the other colts were feeding at the lower part of the field when we heard, quite in the distance, what sounded like the cry of dogs. The oldest of the colts raised his head, pricked his ears, and said, ‘There are the hounds!’ and immediately cantered off followed by the rest of us to the upper part of the field, where we could look over the hedge and see several fields beyond. My mother and an old riding horse of our master’s were also standing near, and seemed to know all about it.
‘They have found a hare,’ said my mother, ‘and if they come this way, we shall see the hunt.’
And soon the dogs were all tearing down the field of young wheat next to ours. I never heard such a noise as they made. They did not bark, nor howl, nor whine, but kept on a ‘yo! yo, o, o! yo! yo, o, o!’ at the top of their voices. After them came a number of men on horseback, some of them in green coats, all galloping as fast as they could. The old horse snorted and looked eagerly after them, and we young colts wanted to be galloping with them, but they were soon away into the fields lower down; here it seemed as if they had come to a stand; the dogs left off barking, and ran about every way with their noses to the ground.
‘They have lost the scent,’ said the old horse; ‘perhaps the hare will get off.’
‘What hare?’ I said.
‘Oh! I don’t know what hare; likely enough it may be one of our own hares out of the plantation; any hare they can find will do for the dogs and men to run after’; and before long the dogs began their ‘yo! yo, o, o!’ again, and back they came all together at full speed, making straight for our meadow at the part where the high bank and hedge over-hang the brook.
‘Now we shall see the hare,’ said my mother; and just then a hare wild with fright rushed by, and made for the plantation. On came the dogs, they burst over the bank, leapt the stream, and came dashing across the field, followed by the huntsmen. Six or eight men leaped their horses clean over, close upon the dogs. The hare tried to get through the fence; it was too thick, and she turned sharp round to make for the road, but it was too late; the dogs were upon her with their wild cries; we heard one shriek, and that was the end of her. One of the huntsmen rode up and whipped off the dogs, who would soon have torn her to pieces. He held her up by the leg, torn and bleeding, and all the gentlemen seemed well pleased.
As for me, I was so astonished that I did not at first see what was going on by the brook; but when I did look, there was a sad sight; two fine horses were down, one was struggling in the stream, and the other was groaning on the grass. One of the riders was getting out of the water covered with mud, the other lay quite still.
‘His neck is broken,’ said my mother.
‘And serve him right too,’ said one of the colts.
I thought the same, but my mother did not join with us.
‘Well! no,’ she said, ‘you must not say that; but though I am an old horse, and have seen and heard a great deal, I never yet could make out why men are so fond of this sport; they often hurt themselves, often spoil good horses, and tear up the fields, and all for a hare or a fox, or a stag, that they could get more easily some other way; but we are only horses, and don’t know.’
Whilst my mother was saying this, we stood and looked on. Many of the riders had gone to the young man; but my master, who had been watching what was going on, was the first to raise him. His head fell back and his arms hung down, and everyone looked very serious. There was no noise now; even the dogs were quiet, and seemed to know that something was wrong. They carried him to our master’s house. I heard afterwards that it was young George Gordon, the Squire’s only son, a fine, tall young man, and the pride of his family.
There was now riding off in all directions to the doctor’s, to the farrier’s, and no doubt to Squire Gordon’s, to let him know about his son. When Mr Bond, the farrier, came to look at the black horse that lay groaning on the grass, he felt him all over, and shook his head; one of his legs was broken. Then someone ran to our master’s house and came back with a gun; presently there was a loud bang and a dreadful shriek, and then all was still; the black horse moved no more.
My mother seemed much troubled; she said she had known that horse for years, and that his name was ‘Rob Roy’; he was a good bold horse, and there was no vice in him. She never would go to that part of the field afterwards.
Not many days after, we heard the church bell tolling for a long time; and looking over the gate we saw a long strange black coach that was covered with black cloth and was drawn by black horses; after that came another and another and another, and all were black, while the bell kept tolling, tolling. They were carrying young Gordon to the churchyard to bury him. He would never ride again. What they did with Rob Roy I never knew; but ‘twas all for one little hare.
CHAPTER 3 My Breaking In
I was now beginning to grow handsome; my coat had grown fine and soft, and was bright black. I had one white foot, and a pretty white star on my forehead. I was thought very handsome; my master would not sell me till I was four years old; he said lads ought not to work like men, and colts ought not to work like horses till they were quite grown up.
When I was four years old, Squire Gordon came to look at me. He examined my eyes, my mouth, and my legs; he felt them all down; and then I had to walk and trot and gallop before him; he seemed to like me, and said, ‘When he has been well broken in, he will do very well.’ My master said he would break me in himself, as he should not like me to be frightened or hurt, and he lost no time about it, for the next day he began.
Every one may not know what breaking in is, therefore I will describe it. It means to teach a horse to wear a saddle and bridle and to carry on his back a man, woman, or child; to go just the way they wish and to go quietly. Besides this, he has to learn to wear a collar, a crupper, and a breeching, and to stand still whilst they are put on; then to have a cart or a chaise fixed behind him, so that he cannot walk or trot without dragging it after him: and he must go fast or slow, just as the driver wishes. He must never start at what he sees, nor speak to other horses, nor bite, nor kick, nor have any will of his own; but always do his master’s will, even though he may be very tired or hungry; but the worst of all is, once his harness is on, he may neither jump for joy nor lie down for weariness. So you see this breaking in is a great thing.
I had of course long been used to a halter and a headstall, and to be led about in the field and lanes quietly, but now I was to have a bit and a bridle; my master gave me some oats as usual, and, after a good deal of coaxing, he got the bit into my mouth, and the bridle fixed, but it was a nasty thing! Those who have never had a bit in their mouths, cannot think how bad it feels; a great piece of cold hard steel as thick as a man’s finger to be pushed into one’s mouth, between one’s teeth and over one’s tongue, with the ends coming out at the corner of your mouth, and held fast there by straps over your head, under your throat, round your nose, and under your chin; so that no way in the world can you get rid of the nasty hard thing; it is very bad! yes, very bad! at least I thought so; but I knew my mother always wore one when she went out, and all horses did when they were grown up; and so, what with the nice oats, and what with my master’s pats, kind words, and gentle ways, I got to wear my bit and bridle.
Next came the saddle, but that was not half so bad; my master put it on my back very gently, whilst old Daniel held my head; he then made the girths fast under my body, patting and talking to me all the time; then I had a few oats, then a little leading about, and this he did every day till I began to look for the oats and the saddle. At length, one morning my master got on my back and rode me round the meadow on the soft grass. It certainly did feel queer; but I must say I felt rather proud to carry my master, and as he continued to ride me a little every day, I soon became accustomed to it.
The next unpleasant business was putting on the iron shoes; that too was very hard at first. My master went with me to the smith’s forge, to see that I was not hurt or got any fright. The blacksmith took my feet in his hands one after the other, and cut away some of the hoof. It did not pain me, so I stood still on three legs till he had done them all. Then he took a piece of iron the shape of my foot, and clapped it on, and drove some nails through the shoe quite into my hoof, so that the shoe was firmly on. My feet felt very stiff and heavy, but in time I got used to it.
And now having got so far, my master went on to break me to harness; there were more new things to wear. First, a stiff heavy collar just on my neck, and a bridle with great side-pieces against my eyes called blinkers, and blinkers indeed they were, for I could not see on either side, but only straight in front of me; next there was a small saddle with a nasty stiff strap that went right under my tail; that was the crupper: I hated the crupper – to have my long tail doubled up and poked through that strap was almost as bad as the bit. I never felt more like kicking, but of course I could not kick such a good master, and so in time I got used to everything, and could do my work as well as my mother.
I must not forget to mention one part of my training, which I have always considered a very great advantage. My master sent me for a fortnight to a neighbouring farmer’s, who had a meadow which was skirted on one side by the railway. Here were some sheep and cows, and I was turned in amongst them.
I shall never forget the first train that ran by. I was feeding quietly near the pales which separated the meadow from the railway, when I heard a strange sound at a distance, and before I knew whence it came – with a rush and a clatter, and a puffing out of smoke – a long black train of something flew by, and was gone almost before I could draw my breath. I turned, and galloped to the further side of the meadow as fast as I could go, and there I stood snorting with astonishment and fear. In the course of the day many other trains went by, some more slowly; these drew up at the station close by, and sometimes made an awful shriek and groan before they stopped. I thought it very dreadful, but the cows went on eating very quietly, and hardly raised their heads as the black frightful thing came puffing and grinding past.
