Chap­ter 31: A Hum­bug begins with the arrival of Alfred Smirk, a groom hired for his appear­ance rather than his abil­i­ty. Tall, con­fi­dent, and well-dressed, Smirk impress­es the mas­ter with pol­ished boots and smooth man­ners. To the casu­al eye, he seems perfect—always brush­ing Beauty’s mane, oil­ing his hooves, and keep­ing his coat shin­ing. But these efforts are only skin deep. While Smirk ensures Beau­ty looks good when the mas­ter is around, he fails at the fun­da­men­tal tasks of a groom. The sad­dle is put on while still damp, the bit rusts from poor clean­ing, and the crup­per stiff­ens from lack of care. Beneath the shine is neglect, and it begins to show. Beau­ty starts to feel the consequences—his stall smells foul, his appetite drops, and his eyes begin to burn. The sur­face charm of Smirk hides a lack of real skill and care.

Smirk’s groom­ing may appear suf­fi­cient to out­siders, but the day-to-day impact on Beau­ty is unmis­tak­able. His sta­ble, nev­er prop­er­ly swept or aired, becomes a source of dis­com­fort. Beauty’s once-bright ener­gy fades under the sting of ammo­nia ris­ing from uncleaned straw. When ques­tioned about the odor, Smirk dis­miss­es the con­cern with emp­ty rea­son­ing. He claims that thor­ough clean­ing might endan­ger Beauty’s health or blames sup­posed drainage issues. The mas­ter, uncer­tain but trust­ing, hires a brick­lay­er to exam­ine the drains. Noth­ing is found to be wrong. The real issue remains unaddressed—the lazi­ness of the groom him­self. Mean­while, Beauty’s hooves begin to dete­ri­o­rate from stand­ing in filth. His move­ments lose their usu­al grace, replaced by slug­gish­ness and insta­bil­i­ty. Yet Smirk, always look­ing for a way to shift blame, tells the mas­ter that the horse sim­ply needs more road work.

Even­tu­al­ly, Beau­ty stum­bles severe­ly dur­ing a city ride, alarm­ing his mas­ter enough to call for a far­ri­er. The diag­no­sis is swift and direct: Beau­ty has thrush, a painful hoof con­di­tion caused by pro­longed expo­sure to wet and dirty bed­ding. The far­ri­er, expe­ri­enced and straight­for­ward, crit­i­cizes the sta­ble’s con­di­tion with­out hes­i­ta­tion. He orders Beau­ty be brought to his care imme­di­ate­ly. Only then does the mas­ter real­ize the depth of neglect his horse has suf­fered. The moment is telling—not because of cru­el­ty, but because of the harm caused by false com­pe­tence. Smirk, with all his pol­ish and poise, lacked the dis­ci­pline to pro­vide real care. His charm masked an absence of respon­si­bil­i­ty, a dan­ger­ous flaw when the well-being of ani­mals is at stake.

This chap­ter isn’t just about poor groom­ing; it reveals a broad­er truth about appear­ances ver­sus sub­stance. Smirk’s abil­i­ty to impress through sur­face ges­tures cre­ates a false sense of trust, one that allows hid­den prob­lems to grow unchecked. Beauty’s health decline hap­pens grad­u­al­ly, qui­et­ly, as a result of tasks not done—not from mis­treat­ment, but from indif­fer­ence. The mas­ter, well-mean­ing but too reliant on appear­ances, becomes com­plic­it in that neglect. It’s a reminder that real care involves con­sis­ten­cy, atten­tive­ness, and humility—qualities Smirk lacks entire­ly. The chap­ter offers a sub­tle but sharp cri­tique of van­i­ty, espe­cial­ly in roles where oth­ers depend on you for well-being. A horse can­not protest or demand bet­ter treat­ment, mak­ing integri­ty in care­tak­ers not just ide­al, but essen­tial.

Neglect, when masked by charm, is espe­cial­ly dan­ger­ous. Beauty’s expe­ri­ence under Smirk is a warn­ing to all who trust care to those who only seem com­pe­tent. Super­fi­cial treat­ment may hide flaws for a time, but the effects always emerge—often at the cost of health or hap­pi­ness. This chap­ter qui­et­ly argues for bet­ter aware­ness, espe­cial­ly in pro­fes­sions involv­ing ani­mals, where atten­tion to detail and sin­cer­i­ty are vital. Today, con­di­tions like thrush remain pre­ventable with prop­er sta­ble man­age­ment and reg­u­lar cleaning—something any trained groom would pri­or­i­tize. By con­trast­ing Smirk’s pol­ished exte­ri­or with his failed respon­si­bil­i­ties, Anna Sewell illus­trates how char­ac­ter is revealed not in words or looks, but in the every­day choic­es a per­son makes. And for hors­es like Beau­ty, those choic­es mean every­thing.