As you probably know, Black Beauty (1877) is the autobiography of a rather handsome horse, admirably translated from the equine by Anna Sewell. Less well-known is the fact that Sewell earned just £40 for the copyright of the phenomenally successful novel. It sold 100,000 copies in her own short lifetime, and has no doubt sold millions more since then. Sadly, she didn’t live long enough to cash in on her name. However, I think she’d be pleased if her tale resulted in even one horse receiving better treatment.
Black Beauty, a glossy and good-tempered colt, belongs to a succession of owners. Some are kind, some are indifferent, and a few are downright sadistic. He begins life in an idyllic meadow, frolicking with his friends Merrylegs and Ginger under the watchful eye of his wise mother. Years later, when suffering the misery of life as an over-worked cab horse, Black Beauty indulges in poignant memories of his early years.
Sewell uses the experiences of Black Beauty and his friends to highlight the often appalling treatment meted out to horses. In some cases masters are simply unfeeling, working their beasts into the ground; in others, the dubious dictates of fashion mean that their bodies are contorted by the likes of the notorious bearing rein, which seriously restricted head movement. Although this is a children’s book, Sewell does not hold back on the shocking reality of the injuries sustained. In a memorable early episode, the relentless pursuit of a hare results in the death of both horse and rider.
Whereas many anthropomorphic tales incline towards the mawkish, Sewell’s mission undercuts any sentimentality, but without detracting from a good narrative. Her exposé gave a boost to the newly-formed RSPCA and greatly increased awareness of the treatment of animals. 13 years later, John Strange Winter (the pen name of Henrietta Stannard) featured the plight of the cab horse in her novel He Went for a Soldier, and was instrumental in persuading Fulham Borough Council to legislate against the use of broken-down animals.
Although the emphasis is very much on animal welfare, Sewell does occasionally draw parallels with the treatment of servants: someone who abuses a horse is probably not kindly disposed towards their other “subordinates”. Black Beauty wonders “if the beautiful ladies ever think of the weary cabman waiting on his box, and his patient beast standing, till his legs get stiff with cold.” He goes on to say “We horses do not mind hard work if we are treated reasonably” – a statement that might well be echoed by the shivering cabman.
I was surprised by how much I enjoyed this novel, especially having come to it about 30 years later than most folk. I’m far from horsey, but found myself completely engrossed in the story and seeing the world from the perspective of a quadruped, and one who uses phrases like “begging your pardon”. A big thank you to Girlebooks for making available such a high-quality free Kindle edition of this text.
Related posts:
{ 10 comments… read them below or add one }
I first read Black Beauty when I was about 7, and remember sobbing when Ginger was sent to die. I have read it several times since, but not for years, until my daughters picked it up and sobbed through it. Is it also about cruelty to poor children? I think I read that somewhere. Off now to get it for my Kindle.
Hello Jan. There isn’t any cruelty to children, but Sewell does draw parallels between the mistreatment of animals and the exploitation of servants. The episode with Ginger is completely heart-rending, even at the slightly more advanced age of 37!
I have never read this book, which is odd, considering the fact that I was quite a horsey adolescent. Of course on reading your review I immediately uploaded it to my Kindle and I am now preparing for a lovely sob. Must remember not to read this on the train!
Oh no, definitely not to be read in public, Anna! I hope you enjoy it.
The theme tune to whichever tv version was around about 25 years ago is enough to make both my mother and myself well up even now.
Bless! I’ve never seen the TV version. Is it worth digging out?
Probably not. My sister and I used to laugh at mum for this but now I’m just as bad.
I was in the original TV series! It was filmed at the farm next to my primary school and if you catch an episode with village children country dancing in the back ground, one of them is me.
I believe that this book also led to provision of public horse troughs, but I may have that fact confused. I read it (along with Josephine Pullen Thompson books) as a nine or ten year old, and I sobbed more at the death of Ginger (the scene when she goes past in a knacker’s cart) far more than I did at the death of Beth in Good Wives.
I read this when I was child, and later, so sophisticated, I assumed that it was an allegory about workers’ rights – a Condition of England novel. How strange to discover, reading up on it, that it really (mostly) was about animal rights!
There was a cluster of animal rights literature around the same time. Butler’s Erewhon has a chapter, although I don’t know how seriously to take it. J. S. Mill takes a strong animal rights stance in Principles of Political Economy. George MacDonald thought, and preached that, animals had souls – At the Back of the North Wind fits in here.
I should re-read Sewell. Thanks for the nice write-up.
I am not sure whether it was Black Beauty, Beautiful Joe or Toby Tyler, Or Ten Weeks with a Circus was the first chapter book I was introduced to by my mother reading aloud from when my brother and I were put to bed.
I was learning to read that spring, and the desire to find out what happened next propelled me into reading, and reading far above my so-called grade level. I secretly read ahead in the book during the day. My mother and brother were astonished at my ability to guess what would happen next!
In any case I re-read Black Beauty and Beautiful Joe many times, well into adulthood. TT? Nope.
Love, C.