Черный Красавец

УДК 
372.8
ББК 
81.2 Англ-93
С96

ISBN 978-5-9925-1114-7

 
Сьюэлл, Анна.
С96 
Черный Красавец : книга для чтения на английском языке. — Санкт-Петербург : КАРО, 2016. — 
208 с. (Classical Literature).

ISBN 978-5-9925-1114-7.

Предлагаем вниманию читателей роман английской писательницы Анны Сьюэлл «Черный Красавец», написанный от 
лица коня.
Текст снабжен комментариями и словарем. Книга предназначена для студентов языковых вузов и всех любителей английской литературы.
УДК 372.8
ББК 81.2 Англ-93

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Анна Сьюэлл

BLACK BEAUTY

ЧЕРНЫЙ КРАСАВЕЦ

Комментарии и словарь Е. Г. Тигонен

Ответственный редактор О. П. Панайотти
Технический редактор Я. В. Попова
Корректор Е. Г. Тигонен
Иллюстрация на обложке Е. Э, Черкасовой

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THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A HORSE
To my dear and honored Mother, whose 
life, no less than her pen, has been devoted 
to the welfare of others, this little book is 
aff ectionately dedicated.

PART I

1
My Early Home

Th e fi rst 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 plowed fi eld, 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 grove of fi r trees, and at the bottom 
a running brook overhung by a steep bank.
While I was young I lived upon my mother’s milk, as I 
could not eat grass. In the daytime 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 grove.
As soon as I was old enough to eat grass my mother 
used to go out to work in the daytime, and come back in 
the evening.
Th ere 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 fi eld 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. Th e colts who live here are very good colts, 
but they are cart-horse colts, and of course they have not 
learned manners1. You have been well-bred and wellborn; 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 her2. Her name was Duchess, but he oft en 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 favorites. My mother always took him to the town 
on a market day in a light gig.

1 they have not learned manners — (разг.) их никто не учил 
хорошим манерам
2 thought a great deal of her — (разг.) был о ней очень высокого мнения

Th ere was a plowboy, Dick, who sometimes came into 
our fi eld 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 fi eld; 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. Th is is 
not the fi rst time, nor the second, but it shall be the last. 
Th ere — 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 aft er the horses, was just 
as gentle as our master, so we were well off .

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 woods and meadows. I and the other 
colts were feeding at the lower part of the fi eld when we 
heard, quite in the distance, what sounded like the cry of 
dogs. Th e oldest of the colts raised his head, pricked his 
ears, and said, “Th ere are the hounds!” and immediately 
cantered off , followed by the rest of us to the upper part 

of the fi eld, where we could look over the hedge and see 
several fi elds beyond. My mother and an old riding horse 
of our master’s were also standing near, and seemed to 
know all about it.
“Th ey 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 fi eld1 of 
young wheat next to ours. I never heard such a noise as they 
made. Th ey 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. Aft er 
them came a number of men on horseback, some of them 
in green coats, all galloping as fast as they could. Th e old 
horse snorted and looked eagerly aft er them, and we young 
colts wanted to be galloping with them, but they were soon 
away into the fi elds 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.
“Th ey 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 woods; any hare they can 
fi nd will do for the dogs and men to run aft er;” and before 
long the dogs began their “yo! yo, o, o!” again, and back 
they came altogether at full speed, making straight for 
our meadow at the part where the high bank and hedge 
overhang the brook.
“Now we shall see the hare,” said my mother; and 
just then a hare wild with fright rushed by and made for 

1 were all tearing down the fi eld — (разг.) они неслись по 
полю

the woods. On came the dogs; they burst over the bank, 
leaped 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. Th e 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 fi rst 
see what was going on by the brook; but when I did look 
there was a sad sight; two fi ne 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 broke,” said my mother.
“And serve him right1, 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 oft en hurt themselves, oft en spoil good horses, 
and tear up the fi elds, 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.”
While 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, 

1 serve him right — (разг.) так ему и надо

was the fi rst to raise him. His head fell back and his arms 
hung down, and every one looked very serious. Th ere was 
no noise now; even the dogs were quiet, and seemed to 
know that something was wrong. Th ey carried him to our 
master’s house. I heard aft erward that it was young George 
Gordon, the squire’s only son, a fi ne, tall young man, and 
the pride of his family.
Th ere was now riding off  in all directions to the doctor’s, to the farrier’s, and no doubt to Squire Gor don’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. Th en some one 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 horse, and there was no vice in him. 
She never would go to that part of the fi eld aft erward.
Not many days aft er 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; aft er that came another and 
another and another, and all were black, while the bell 
kept tolling, tolling. Th ey 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 hare1.

1 ’twas all for one little hare — (разг.) и все это из-за какогото зайчика

3
My Breaking-In

I was now beginning to grow handsome; my coat had 
grown fi ne 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 in1 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 while they are put on; then 
to have a cart or a chaise fi xed behind, so that he cannot 
walk or trot without dragging it aft er him; and he must go 
fast or slow, just as his 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 

1 When he has been well broken in — (разг.) Когда его хорошо объездят