English
author, born in Holland, noted for his satire The Fable of the Bees (1723)
extracts from The Fable of the Bees (1723)
Another piece of Luxury the Poor
enjoy, that is not look'd upon as such, and which there is no doubt but the Wealthiest
in a Golden Age would abstain from, is their making use of the Flesh of Animals
to eat. In what concerns the Fashions and Manner of the Ages Men live in they
never examine into the real Worth or Merit of the Cause, and generally judge of
Things not at their Reason, but Custom directs them.
I have often thought,
if it was not for this Tyranny which Custom usurps over us, that Men of any tolerable
good Nature could never be reconcil'd to the killing of so many Animals for their
daily Food, as long as the bountiful Earth so plentifully provides them with varieties
of vegetable Dainties. I know that Reason excites our Compassion but faintly,
and therefore I would not wonder how Men should so little commiserate such imperfect
Creatures as Cray fish, Oysters, Cockles, and indeed all Fish in general: As they
are mute, and their inward Formation, as well as outward Figure, vastly different
from ours, they express themselves unintelligibly to us, and therefore 'tis not
strange that their Grief should not affect our Understanding, which it cannot
reach; for nothing stirs us to Pity so effectually, as when the Symptome of Misery
strike immediately upon our Senses, and I have seen People mov'd at the Noise
a live Lobster makes upon the Spit, that could have kill'd half a dozen Fowls
with Pleasure.
But in such perfect Animals as Sheep and Oxen, in whom the
Heart, the Brain and Nerves differ so little from ours, and in whom the Separation
of the Spirits from the Blood, the Organs of Sense, and consequently Feeling itself,
are the same as they are in Human Creatures, I can't imagine how a Man not hardened
in Blood and Massacre, is able to see a violent Death, and the Pangs of it, without
concern.
In answer to this, most People will think it sufficient to say,
that all Things being allow'd to be made for the Service of Man, there can be
no Cruelty in putting Creatures to the use they were design'd for; but I have
heard Men make this Reply, whilst their Nature within them has reproach'd them
with the Falshood of the Assertion. There is of all the Multitude not one Man
in ten but what will own, (if he was not brought up in a Slaughter-house) that
of all Trades he could never have been a Butcher; and I question whether ever
any body so much as kill'd a Chicken without Reluctancy the first time. Some People
are not to be perswaded to taste of any Creatures they have daily seen and been
acquainted with, whilst they were alive; others extend their scruple no further
than to their own Poultry, and refuse to eat what they fed and took care of themselves,
yet all of them will feed heartily and without Remorse on Beef, Mutton and Fowls,
when they are bought in the Market. In this behaviour, methinks, there appears
something like a consciousness of Guilt, it looks as if they endeavor'd to save
themselves from the Imputation of a Crime (which they know sticks somewhere) by
removing the cause of it as far as they can from themselves; and I can discover
in it some strong remains of Primitive Pity and Innocence, which all the arbitrary
Power of Custom, and the violence of Luxury, have not yet been able to conquer.
What I build upon I shall be told is a folly that Wise Men are not guilty
of: I own it; but whilst it proceeds from a real Passion inherent in our Nature,
it is sufficient to demonstrate that we are born with a Repugnancy to the killing,
and consequently the eating of Animals; for it is impossible that a natural Appetite
should ever prompt us to act, or desire others to do, what we have an aversion
to, be it as foolish as it will.
It is only man, mischievous
man, that can make death a sport. Nature taught your stomach to crave nothing
but vegetables; but your violent fondness to change, and greater eagerness after
novelties, have prompted you to the destruction of animals without justice or
necessity, perverted your nature and warped your appetities which way soever your
pride or luxury have called them.
The lion has a ferment within him that
consumes the toughest skin and hardest bones as well as the flesh of all animals
without exception; your squeamish stomach, in which the digestive heat is weak
and inconsiderable, won't so much as admit of the most tender parts of them, unless
above half the concoction has been performed by artificial fire beforehand; and
yet what ammal have you spared to satisfy the caprices of a languid appetite?
... ungrateful and perfidious man feeds on the sheep that clothes him, and
spares not her innocent young ones, whom he has taken into his care and custody.
If you tell me the gods made man master over all other creatures, what tyranny
was it then to destroy them out of wantonness?
... when to soften the flesh
of male animals, we have by castration prevented the firmness thcir tendons and
every fibre would have come to without it, I confess I think it ought to move
a human creature when he reflects upon the cruel care with which they are fattened
for destruction. When a large and gentle block, after having resisted a ten times
greater force of blows than would have killed his murderer, falls stunned at last,
and his armed head is fastened to the ground with cords; as soon as the wide wound
is made, and the jugulars are cut asunder, what mortal can without compassion
hear the painful bellowings intercepted by his blood, the bitter sighs that speak
the sharpness of his anguish, and the deep sounding groans with loud anxiety fetched
from the bottom of his strong and palpitating heart; look on the trembling and
violent convulsions of his limbs; see, while his reeking gore streams from him,
his eyes become dim and languid, and behold his strugglings, gasps and last efforts
for life, the certain signs of his approaching fate? When a creature has given
such convincing and undeniable proofs of the terrors upon him, and the pains and
agonies he feel, is there a follower of Descartes so inured to blood as not to
refute, by his commiseration, the philosophy of that vain reasoner?