The Little White Horse, by Elizabeth Goudge

I can’t stand morality tales. Even Little Women, which was written specifically pushing back against the worst tropes of children’s fiction in its time, feels insipid and lecturing (forgive me, women everywhere!).  And especially now as a parent myself, I find Marmie’s perfect parenting infuriating. How come all her little life-lessons and heart to heart talks resonate with her children, instead of getting a blink and a, “Okay, but can I have a snack now?”

…But I digress.

I loved this story. It had every possibility to be a droning morality tale and instead was a fantastic adventure with romance and excitement and danger and—yes, excellent character lessons, only deftly and graciously handled. 

Maria Merryweather, her governess and her little dog, must travel from the excitement of London to Moonacre Manor in the country, to live with her uncle, as her father has died. Maria is not at all sure she will like being tucked away in the country, but as they are pulling into the country, she spies a white horse in the distance, watching her.

Already curious about the horse, she reaches Moonacre Manor and finds both mystery and comforts abounding. There is a very strange, incredibly large dog named Wrolf lying on the floor in front of the fireplace and her uncle, Sir Benjamin Merryweather himself is odd and absolute geniality.

The house is perfect; there is a small room that feels made just for her, her governess is happy, Sir Benjamin provides her with a pony to ride and when Wrolf accompanies her, she can ride anywhere in Moonacre. But as she falls more in love with her ancestral home and its people, she discovers that there is something wrong.  Nobody can go near the coast—there are a group of men who live in the Dark Woods and terrorize the villages, hunt all the wildlife, and destroy Moonacre property.

And Maria discovers that the reason for this blot on her beautiful countryside is her own family. There has been a history of bitter unforgiveness running in the Merryweather clan for centuries, and every so often there comes a Merryweather who has a chance to break the curse. Her uncle had his chance, but in a fit of pique, refused to forgive, and so the Black Men of the Dark Woods continue to haunt Moonacre. Now Maria has her chance—will she be able to rein in her fierce nature enough to forgive, and will she dare to use her wits to convince the men in the Dark Woods to leave?

With the help of her friend Robin, Maria is befriended by a lion, invades strongholds, jumps off towers, finds buried treasure, and sets her willpower to bring peace and joy to her beloved countryside again. And as she does this, she reveals the mystery of the little white horse.

The thing I love the best about this book is what it tells young people, and girls in particular, about responsibility. The picture the book presents of the lion and the white horse together calls for character in which strength and peacefulness is combined. So rarely have I read a call for those character traits aimed at girls. I’ve read the feminist fantasies where she takes up a sword and beats all the boys and doesn’t need nobody, and I’ve read the frankly embarrassing “Christian” morality tales where a near fetish is made of women whose chief virtue is passive, mindless obedience. This book offers a rare and beautiful picture of womanhood: strength combined with gentleness, authority walking hand in hand with submission.

 Maria is called to be all the things you would expect to find in a nearly century-old book for girls—patient, kind, sweet and gentle—but she is also expected to take responsibility and to exercise self-control. The adults cannot fix her problems; they are helpless in their own failures. Robin is a partner in her adventures, but it is not his responsibility to lift the curse on Moonacre Manor.  

At one point Maria is chastised for “curiosity” and my hackles raised, but as the story unfolded it became clear that what was disapproved of was not what I would call “curiosity” so much as nosiness into other people’s business. What’s being taught is respect for boundaries, not mindless passivity.

And that is the key to all the character lessons of the Little White Horse—Maria’s patience, kindness and sweetness are not qualities that will enable her to be less troublesome for the adults and her future husband. They are the key to her stepping into a leadership role she must inhabit for the joy and peace and wellbeing of herself and her home.