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Chapter 23 One day my lady came down later than usual and the silk rustled more than ever.
Drive to my friend the Duchess's,
She said,
And then after a pause,
Are you ever going to get those horses' heads up,
York?
Raise them at once and let's have no more of it.
York came to me first while the groom stood at Ginger's head.
He drew my head back and fixed the reins so tight it was almost intolerable.
Then he went to Ginger,
Who was impatiently jerking her head up and down against the bit.
She had a good idea of what was coming,
And the moment York took the rein off the terret in order to shorten it,
She took the opportunity and reared up.
It was so sudden York had his nose roughly hit and his hat knocked off.
The groom was nearly thrown off his legs.
At once they both flew to her head,
But she was a match for them and went on plunging,
Rearing and kicking in the most desperate manner.
At last she kicked right over the carriage pole and fell down after giving me a severe blow on my near quarter.
There was no knowing what further mischief she might have done had not York promptly sat himself down flat on her head to prevent her struggling.
Unbuckle the black horse,
Run for the winch and unscrew the carriage pole,
He screamed.
Cut the trace here somebody if you can't unhitch it.
One of the footmen ran for the winch and another brought a knife from the house.
The groom soon set me free from Ginger and the carriage and led me to my box.
He just turned me in as I was and ran back to York.
I was much excited by what had happened.
If I had ever been used to kick or rear I'm sure I should have done it then.
But I never had.
And there I stood,
Angry,
Sore in my leg,
My head still strained up to the terret on the saddle,
And no power at all to get it down.
I was very miserable and I felt much inclined to kick the first person who came near me.
Before long however Ginger was led in by two grooms,
A good deal knocked about and bruised.
York came with her and gave his orders and then he came to look at me.
It wasn't long before he let down my head.
Confound his check reins,
He said to himself,
I thought we should have some mischief soon.
Master will be sorely vexed.
But there,
A woman's husband can't rule her,
Of course a servant can't,
So I wash my hands of it.
And if she can't get to the Duchess's garden party,
I can't help it.
York made sure not to say this before the men.
They always spoke respectfully when they were by.
He felt me all over now and he found a place above my hock where I'd been kicked.
It was swelled and painful and he ordered it to be sponged with hot water and then some lotion was put on.
The master of the house was much put out when he learned what had happened.
He blamed York for giving way to his mistress,
To which he replied that in future he would much prefer to receive his orders only from his lordship.
I think nothing came of that though,
For things just went on the same as before.
I thought York might have stood up better for his horses.
He seemed to be a nice master at first.
But perhaps I am no judge of character.
As for Ginger,
She was never put into the carriage again.
But when she was well of her bruises,
One of the lord's youngest sons said he should like to have her.
He was sure she would make a good hunter.
As for me,
I was obliged still to go in the carriage and now had a fresh partner called Max.
He'd always been used to the tight rein I heard.
And I asked him how he bore it.
Well,
He said,
I bear it because I must.
It's shortening my life,
I know,
And it'll shorten yours too if you have to stick to it.
Let's just hope we're not used for the carriage too often.
I thought about this for some time.
Then I answered,
Do you think,
Do you think the master knows how bad it is for us?
I can't say,
Max replied.
But the dealers and the horse doctors know it only too well.
Years ago,
I was at a dealer's who was training me.
Another horse was with me.
We went as a pair.
He was getting our heads up,
As he said,
A little higher and a little higher every day.
Then a gentleman who was there asked him why he did that.
Because,
Said he,
People won't buy them unless we do.
The London people always want their horses to carry their heads high and step high.
Of course,
It's very bad for them,
But it's good for trade and money's what counts.
The horses soon wear up then or get diseased.
That's the sad thing.
But they always come for another pair.
That's money.
And that,
Said Max,
Is what he said in my hearing,
So you can judge for yourself.
What I suffered with that rain for four long months in my lady's carriage,
It would be hard to describe.
I'm quite sure that had it lasted much longer,
Either my health or my temper would have given way.
Before that,
I never knew what it was like to foam at the mouth.
But now the action of the sharp bit on my tongue and on my jaw and the constrained position of my head and throat always cause me to feel pain.
Some people think it's very fine to see this.
What fine-spirited creatures they say.
But holding our head up high constantly is just as unnatural for horses as it is for men.
I've never seen a man foam at the mouth.
That must be a sure sign of discomfort.
It wouldn't be allowed.
And it shouldn't be allowed with us.
We should be attended to.
Besides this,
There is a pressure on my windpipe when it happens that makes my breathing very uncomfortable.
Whenever I returned from my work,
When I pulled the lady's carriage,
My neck and my chest were strained and painful and my mouth and tongue tender.
Working for my lady left me feeling very worn and depressed.
In my old home,
I always knew that John and my master were my friends.
But here at Earlshaw,
Although in many ways I had been well treated,
I had no friend.
York might have known,
And very well he did know,
How that rain harassed me.
But I suppose he took it as a matter of course.
He couldn't do anything.
It was his job.
And that couldn't be helped.
At any rate,
Nothing was done to relieve me or my friends.
