Class, Transportation, and Victorian England Theme Analysis

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.

York came round to our heads and shortened the rein himself, one hole, I think; every little makes a difference, be it for better or worse, and that day we had a steep hill to go up. Then I began to understand what I had heard of. Of course I wanted to put my head forward and take the carriage up with a will, as we had been used to; but no, I had to pull with my head up now, and that took all the spirit out of me, and the strain came on my back and legs.

“I was at a dealer’s once, who was training me and another horse to go as a pair; he was getting our heads up, as he said, a little higher and a little higher every day. A gentleman who was there asked him why he did so; ‘Because,’ said he, ‘people won’t buy them unless we do. The London people always want their horses to carry their heads high, and to step high; of course it is very bad for the horses, but then it is good for trade. The horses soon wear up, or get diseased, and they come for another pair.’”

“And so,” she said, “here we are—ruined in the prime of our youth and strength—you by a drunkard, and I by a fool; it is very hard.”

“Well, to be sure!” said my driver, “that is a queer thing! I never knew that horses picked up stones before!”

“Didn’t you?” said the farmer, rather contemptuously; “but they do, though, and the best of them will do it, and can’t help it sometimes on such roads as these. And if you don’t want to lame your horse, you must look sharp and get them out quickly. This foot is very much bruised,” he said, setting it down gently and patting me.

“’Tis not for me to lay down plans for other people,” said Jerry, “but if they can’t walk so far, they can go to what is nearer; and if it should rain they can put on their mackintoshes as they do on a week-day. If a thing is right, it can be done, and if it is wrong, it can be done without; and a good man will find a way; and that is as true for us cabmen as it is for the church-goers.”

“[…] and I say ‘tis a mockery to tell a man that he must not overwork his horse, for when a beast is downright tired, there’s nothing but the whip that will keep his legs agoing—you can’t help yourself—you must put your wife and children before the horse, the masters must look to that, we can’t. I don’t ill-use my horse for the sake of it; none of you can say I do. There’s wrong lays somewhere—never a day’s rest—never a quiet hour with the wife and children.”

I said, “You used to stand up for yourself if you were ill-used.”

“Ah!” she said, “I did once, but it’s no use; men are strongest, and if they are cruel and have no feeling, there is nothing that we can do, but just bear it, bear it on and on to the end. I wish the end was come, I wish I was dead. I have seen dead horses, and I am sure they do not suffer pain. I wish I may drop down dead at my work, and not be sent off to the knacker’s.”

The drayman was proved to be very drunk, and was fined, and the brewer had to pay damages to our master; but there was no one to pay damages to poor Captain.

Christmas and the New Year are very merry times for some people; but for cabmen and cabmen’s horses it is no holiday, though it may be a harvest. There are so many parties, balls, and places of amusement open, that the work is hard and often late. Sometimes driver and horse have to wait for hours in the rain or frost, shivering with cold, whilst the merry people within are dancing away to the music. I wonder 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.

“Is it not better,” she said, “to lead a good fashion, than to follow a bad one? A great many gentlemen do not use bearing reins now; our carriage horses have not worn them for fifteen years, and work with much less fatigue than those who have them; besides,” she added, in a very serious voice, “we have no right to distress any of God’s creatures without a very good reason; we call them dumb animals, and so they are, for they cannot tell us how they feel, but they do not suffer less because they have no words.”

There were poor men trying to sell a worn-out beast for two or three pounds, rather than have the greater loss of killing him. Some of them looked as if poverty and hard times had hardened them all over; but there were others that I would have willingly used the last of my strength in serving; poor and shabby, but kind and human, with voices that I could trust.

“You see, ladies,” said Mr Thoroughgood, “many first-rate horses have had their knees broken through the carelessness of their drivers, without any fault of their own, and from what I see of this horse, I should say that is his case: but of course I do not wish to influence you.”