I see no way of avoiding the force of this argument, except by denying the premises on which I have founded my conclusions. But they are far more easily denied than disproved. The probability, after all, is, that my estimates are too low, and that the advantages of an exclusively vegetable diet, in a national or political point of view, are even greater than is here represented. I do not deny, that some deduction ought to be made on account of the consumption of fish, which does notprevent the growth or use of vegetable products; but my belief is, that, including them, the animal food we use amounts to a great deal more than one meal a day, or one third of our whole living.
Suppose there was nocrimein shutting human beings out of existence by flesh-eating, at the amazing rate I have mentioned—still, is it not, I repeat it, a great national or political loss? Or, will it be said, in its defence, as has been said in defence of war, if not of intemperance and some of the forms of licentiousness, that as the world is, it is a blessing to keep down its population, otherwise it would soon be overstocked? The argument would be as good in one case as in the other; that is, it is not valid in either. The world might be made to sustain, in comfort, even in the present comparatively infant state of the arts and sciences, at least forty or fifty times its present number of inhabitants. It will be time enough a thousand or two thousand years to come, to begin to talk about the danger of the world's being over-peopled; and, above all, to talk about justifying what we know is, in the abstract, very wrong, to prevent a distant imagined evil; one, in fact, which may not, and probably will not ever exist.
The economy of the vegetable system is so intimately connected with its political or national advantages; that is, so depends on, or grows out of them, that I hesitated for some time before I decided to consider it separately. Whatever is shown clearly to be for the general good policy and well-being of society, cannot be prejudicial to the best interests of the individuals who compose that society. Still, there are some minor considerations thatI wish to present under this head, that could not so well have been introduced any where else.
There is, indeed, one reason for omitting wholly the consideration of the pecuniary advantages of the system which I am attempting to defend. The public, to some extent, at once consider him who adverts to this topic, as parsimonious or mean. But, conscious as I am of higher objects in consulting economy than the saving of money, that it may be expended on things of no more value than the mere indulgence or gratification of the appetites or the passions, in a world where there are minds to educate and souls to save, I have ventured to treat on the subject.
It must be obvious, at a single glance, that if the vegetable products of an acre of land—such as wheat, rye, corn, barley, potatoes, beans, peas, turnips, beets, apples, strawberries, etc.—will sustain a family in equal health eight times as long as the pork, or beef, or mutton, which the same vegetables would make by feeding them to domestic animals, it must be just as mistaken a policy for the individual to make the latter disposition of these products as for a nation to do so. Nations are made of individuals; and, as I have already said, whatever is best, in the end, for the one, must also be the best, as a general rule, for the other.
But who has not been familiar from his very infancy with the maxim, that "a good garden will half support a family?" And who that is at all informed in regard to the manners and customs of the old world, does not know that the maxim has been verified there, time immemorial? But again: who has not considered, that if a garden of a given size will half support a family, one twice as large would support it wholly?
The truth is, it needs but a very small spot indeed, of good soil, for raising all the necessaries of a family. I think I have shown, in another work,[23]that five hundred and fifty pounds of Indian or corn meal, or ten bushels of the corn, properly cooked, will support, or more than support, an adult individual a year. Four times this amount is a very large allowance for a family of five persons; nay, even three times is sufficient. But how small a spot of good soil is required for raising thirty bushels of corn!
It is true, no family would wish to be confined a whole year to this one kind of food; nor do I wish to have it so; not that I think any serious mischiefs would arise as the consequence; but I should prefer, for my own part, a greater variety. But this does not materially alter the case. Suppose an acre and a half of land were required for the production of thirty bushels of corn. Let the cultivator, if he chooses, raise only fifteen bushels of corn, and sow the remainder with barley, or rye, or wheat. Or, if he prefer it, let him plant the one half of the piece with beans, peas, potatoes, beets, onions, etc. The one half of the space devoted to the production of some sort of grain would still half support his family; and it would require more than ordinary gluttony in a family of five persons to consume the produce of the other half, if the crops were but moderately abundant. A quarter of an acre of it ought to produce, at least, sixty bushels of potatoes; but this alone, would give such a family about ten pounds of potatoes, or one sixth of a bushel a day, for every day in the year, which is a tolerable allowance of food, without the grain and other vegetables.
But suppose a whole family were to live wholly on grain, as corn, or even wheat, for the year; the whole expenditure would hardly, exceed fifty dollars, in dear places and in the dearest times. Of course, I am speaking now of expenses for food and drink merely, the latter of which usually costs nothing, or need not. How small a sum is this to expend in New York, or Boston, or Philadelphia, in the maintenance of a family! And yet, it is amply sufficient for the vegetable-eater, unless his family live exclusively on wheat bread, or milk, when it might fall a little short. Of corn, at a dollar a bushel, it would give him eight pounds a day—far more than a family ought to consume, if they ate nothing else; and of potatoes, at forty cents a bushel, above twenty pounds, or one third of a bushel—more than sufficient for the family of an Hibernian.
Now, let me ask how much beef, or lamb, or pork, or sausages, or eggs, or cheese, this would buy? At ten cents a pound for each, which is comparatively low, it would buy five hundred pounds; about one pound and six ounces for the whole family, or four or five ounces each a day. This would be an average amount of nutriment equal to that of about two ounces of grain, or bread of grain, a day, to each individual. In so far as laid out in butter, or chicken, or turkey, at twenty cents a pound, it would give also about two or three ounces a day!
Further remarks under this head can hardly be necessary. He who considers the subject in its various aspects, will be likely to see the weight of the argument. There is a wide difference between a system which will give to each member of a family, upon the average, only about four or five ounces of food a day, and onewhich will give each of them more than twenty-five ounces a day, each ounce of the latter containing twice the nutriment of the former, and being much more savory and healthy at the same time. There is a wide difference, in matters of economy, at least, betweenoneandten.
I will only add, under this head, a few tables. The first is to show the comparative amount of nutritious matter contained in some of the leading articles of human food, both animal and vegetable. It is derived from the researches of such men as MM. Percy and Vauquelin, of France, and Sir Humphrey Davy, of England.
100pounds ofWheatcontain85poundsofnutritious matter.""Rice"90"""""Rye"80"""""Barley"83"""""Peas"93"""""Lentils"94"""""Beans89 to 92"""""Bread(average)80"""""Meat(average)35"""""Potatoescontain25"""""Beets"14"""""Carrots10 to 14"""""Cabbage"7"""""Greens, turnips4 to 8"""
Of course, it does not follow that every individual will be able to extract just this amount of nutriment from each article; for, in this respect, as well as in others, much will depend on circumstances.
The second table is from Mr. James Simpson, of Manchester, England, in a small work entitled, "The Products of the Vegetable Kingdom versus Animal Food," recently published in London. Its facts are derivedfrom Dr. Playfair, Boussingault, and other high authorities. It will be seen to refute, entirely, the popular notions concerning the Liebig theory. The truth is, Liebig's views are misunderstood. His views are not so much opposed to mine as many suppose. Besides, neither he nor I are infallible.
Solid matter.Water.Flesh forming principle.Heat forming principle.Ashes for the bones.Potatoes,28per ct.72per ct.2per ct.25per ct.1per ct.Turnips,11"89"1"9"1"Barley Meal,84-1/2"15-1/2"14"68-1/2"2"Beans,86"14"31"51-1/2"3"Oats,82"18"11"68"3"Wheat,85-1/2"14-1/2"21"62"2-1/2"Peas,84"16"29"51-1/2"3-1/2"Carrots,13"87"2"10"1"Veal,25"75"{Beef,25"75"{25Mutton,25"75"{Lamb,25"75"{Blood,20"80"20
A person trained in the United States or in England—but especially one who was trained in New England—might very naturally suppose that all the world were flesh-eaters; and that the person who abstains from an article which is at almost every one's table, was quite singular. He would, perhaps, suppose there must be something peculiar in his structure, to enable him to live without either flesh or fish; particularly, if he were a laborer. Little would he dream—little does a person who has not had much opportunity for reading, and who has not been taught to reflect, and who has never traveled a day's journey from the place which gave him birth, even so much as dream—that almost all theworld, or at least almost all the hard-laboring part of it, are vegetable-eaters, and always have been; and that it is only in a few comparatively small portions of the civilized and half-civilized world, that the bone and sinew of our race ever eat flesh or fish for any thing more than as a condiment or seasoning to the rest of their food, or even taste it at all. And yet such is the fact.
It is true, that in a vast majority of cases, as I have already intimated, laborers are vegetable-eaters from necessity: they cannot get flesh. Almost all mankind, as they are usually trained, are fond of extra stimulants, if they can get them; and whether they are called savages or civilized men, will indulge in them more or less, if they are to be had, unless their intellectual and moral natures have been so well developed and cultivated, as to have acquired the ascendency. Spirits, wine, cider, beer, coffee, tea, condiments, tobacco, opium, snuff, flesh meat, and a thousand other things, which excite, for a time, more pleasurable sensations than water and plain vegetables and fruits, will be sought with more or less eagerness according to the education which has been received, and according to our power of self-government.
I have said that most persons are vegetable-eaters from necessity, not from choice. There are some tribes in the equatorial regions who seem to be exceptions to this rule; and yet I am not quite satisfied they are so. Some children, among us, who are trained to a very simple diet, will seem to shrink from tea or coffee, or alcohol, or camphor, and even from any thing which is much heated, when first presented to them. But, train the same children to the ordinary, complex,high-seasoned diet of this country, and it will not take long to find out that they are ready to acquire the habit of relishing the excitement of almost all sorts ofunnaturalswhich can be presented to them. And if there are tribes of men who at first refuse flesh meat, I apprehend they do so for the same reasons which lead a child among us, who is trained simply to refuse hot food and drink, or at least, hot tea and coffee, when the latter are first presented to him.
Gutzlaff, the Chinese traveler and missionary, has found that the Chinese of the interior, who have scarcely ever tasted flesh or fish, soon acquire a wonderful relish for it, just as our children do for spirituous or exciting drinks and drugs, and as savages do for tobacco and spirits. But he has also made another discovery, which is, that flesh-eating almost ruins them for labor. Instead of being strong, robust, and active, they soon become lazy, self-indulgent, and effeminate. This is a specimen—perhaps a tolerably fair one—of the natural tendency of such food in all ages and countries. Man every where does best, nationally and individually, other things being equal, on a well-chosen diet of vegetables, fruits, and water. In proportion as individuals or families, or tribes or nations, depart from this—other things being equal—in the same proportion do they degenerate physically, intellectually, and morally.
Such a statement may startle some of my New England readers, perhaps, who have never had opportunity to become acquainted with facts as they are. But can it be successfully controverted? Is it not true, that, with a few exceptions—and those more apparent than real—nations have flourished, and continued to flourish,in proportion as they have retained the more natural dietetic habits to which I have alluded; and that they have been unhappy or short-lived, as nations, in proportion as exciting food and drink have been used? Is it not true, that those individuals, families, tribes, and nations, which have used what I call excitements, liquid or solid, have been subjected by them to the same effects which follow the use of spirits—first, invigoration, and subsequently decline, and ultimately a loss of strength? Why is it that the more wealthy, all over Europe, who get flesh more or less, deteriorate in their families so rapidly? Why is it that every thing is, in this respect, so stationary among the middle classes and the poor?
In short—for the case appears to me a plain one—it is the simple habits of some, whether we speak of nations, families, or individuals, which have preserved the world from going to utter decay. In ancient times, the Egyptians, the most enlightened and one of the most enduring of nations, were what might properly be called a vegetable-eating nation; so were the ancient Persians, in the days of their greatest glory; so the Essenes, among the Jews; so the Romans, as I have said elsewhere, and the Greeks. If either Moses or Herodotus is to be credited, men lived, in ancient times, about a thousand years. Indeed, empire seems to have departed from among the ancient nations precisely when simplicity departed. So it is with nations still. A flesh-eating nation may retain the supremacy of the world a short time, as several European and American nations have done; just as the laborer, whose brain and nerves are stimulated by ardent spirits, may for a time retain—through the medium of an artificial strength—the ascendencyamong his fellow-laborers; but the triumph of both the nation and the individual must be short, and the debility which follows proportionable. And if the United States, as a nation, seem to form an exception to the truth of this remark, it is only because the stage of debility has not yet arrived. Let us be patient, however, for it is not far off.
But to come to the specification of facts. The Japanese of the interior, according to some of the British geographers, live principally on rice and fruits—a single handful of rice often forming the basis of their frugal meal. Flesh, it is said, they either cannot get, or do not like; and to milk, even, they have the same sort of aversion which most of us have to blood. It is only a few of them, comparatively, and those principally who live about the coasts, who ever use either flesh or fish. And yet we have the concurring testimony of all geographers and travelers, that in their physical and intellectual development, at least, to say nothing of their moral peculiarities, they are the finest men in all Asia. In what other country of Asia are schools and early education in such high reputation as in Japan? Where are the inhabitants so well formed, so stout made, and so robust? Compare them with the natives of New Holland, in the same, or nearly the same longitude, and about as far south of the equator as the Japanese are north of it, and what a contrast! The New Hollanders, though eating flesh liberally, are not only mere savages, but they are among the most meagre and wretched of the human race. On the contrary, the Japanese, in mind and body, are scarcely behind the middle nations of Europe.
Nearly the same remarks will apply to China, andwith little modification, to Hindostan. In short, the hundreds of millions of southern Asia are, for the most part, vegetable-eaters; and a large proportion of them live chiefly, if not wholly on rice, though by no means the most favorable vegetable for exclusive use. What countries like these have maintained their ancient, moral, intellectual, and political landmarks? Grant that they have made but little improvement from century to century; it is something not to have deteriorated. Let us proceed with our general view of the world, ancient and modern.
The Jews of Palestine, two thousand years ago, lived chiefly on vegetable food. Flesh, of certain kinds, was indeed admissible, by their law; but, except at their feasts and on special occasions, they ate chiefly bread, milk, honey, and fruits.
Lawrence says that "the Greeks and Romans, in the periods of their greatest simplicity, manliness, and bravery, appear to have lived almost entirely on plain vegetable preparations."
The Irish of modern days, as well as the Scotch, are confined almost wholly to vegetable food. So are the Italians, the Germans, and many other nations of modern Europe. Yet, where shall we look for finer specimens of bodily health, strength, and vigor, than in these very countries? The females, especially, where shall we look for their equals? The men, even—the Scotch and Irish, for example—are they weaker than their brethren, the English, who use more animal food?
It will be said, perhaps, the vegetable-eating Europeans are not always distinguished for vigorous minds. True; but this, it may be maintained, arises from their degraded physical condition, generally; and that neglectof mental and moral cultivation which accompanies it. A few, even here, like comets in the material system, have occasionally broken out, and emitted no faint light in the sphere in which they were destined to move.
But we are not confined to Europe. The South Sea Islanders, in many instances, feed almost wholly on vegetable substances; yet their agility and strength are so great, that it is said "the stoutest and most expert English sailors, had no chance with them in wrestling and boxing."
We come, lastly, to Africa, the greater part of whose millions feed on rice, dates, etc.; yet their bodily powers are well known.
In short, more than half of the 800,000,000 of human beings which inhabit our globe live on vegetables; or, if they get meat at all, it is so rarely that it can hardly have any effect on their structure or character. Out of Europe and the United States—I might even say, out of the latter—the use of animal food is either confined to a few meagre, weak, timid nations, like the Esquimaux, the Greenlanders, the Laplanders, the Samoiedes, the Kamtschadales, the Ostiacs, and the natives of Siberia and Terra del Fuego; or those wealthier classes, or individuals of every country, who are able to range lawlessly over the Creator's domains, and select, for their tables, whatever fancy or fashion, or a capricious appetite may dictate, or physical power afford them.
In one point of view, nearly every argument which can be brought to show the superiority of a vegetable diet over one that includes flesh or fish, is a moral argument.
Thus, if man is so constituted by his structure, and by the laws of his animal economy, that all the functions of the body, and of course all the faculties of the mind, and the affections of the soul, are in better condition—better subserve our own purposes, and the purposes of the great Creator—as well as hold out longer, on the vegetable system—then is it desirable, in a moral point of view, to adopt it. If mankind lose, upon the average, about two years of their lives by sickness, as some have estimated it,[24]saying nothing of the pain and suffering undergone, or of the mental anguish and soul torment which grow out of it, and often render life a burden; and if the simple primitive custom of living on vegetables and fruits, along with other good physical and mental habits, which seem naturally connected with it, will, in time, nearly if not wholly remove or prevent this amazing loss, then is the argument deduced therefrom, in another part of this chapter, a moral argument.
If, as I have endeavored to show, the adoption of the vegetable system by nations and individuals, would greatly advance the happiness of all, in every known respect, and if, on this account, such a change in our flesh-eating countries would be sound policy, and good economy,—then we have another moral argument in its favor.
But, again; if it be true that all nations have been the most virtuous and flourishing, other things being equal, in the days of their simplicity in regard to food, drink, etc.; and if we can, in every instance, connect the decline of a nation with the period of their departure, as a nation, into the maze of luxurious and enervatinghabits; and if this doctrine is, as a general rule, obviously applicable to smaller classes of men, down to single families, then is the argument we derive from it in its nature a moral one. Whatever really tends, without the possibility of mistake, to the promotion of human happiness, here and hereafter, is, without doubt, moral.
But this, though much, is not all. The destruction of animals for food, in its details and tendencies, involves so much of cruelty as to cause every reflecting individual—not destitute of the ordinary sensibilities of our nature—to shudder. I recall: daily observation shows that such is not the fact; nor should it, upon second thought, be expected. Where all are dark, the color is not perceived; and so universally are the moral sensibilities which really belong to human nature deadened by the customs which prevail among us, that few, if any, know how to estimate, rightly, the evil of which I speak. They have no more a correct idea of a true sensibility—not amorbidone—on this subject, than a blind man has of colors; and for nearly the same reasons. And on this account it is, that I seem to shrink from presenting, at this time, those considerations which, I know, cannot, from the very nature of the case, be properly understood or appreciated, except by a very few.
Still there are some things which, I trust, may be made plain. It must be obvious that the custom of rendering children familiar with the taking away of life, even when it is done with a good degree of tenderness, cannot have a very happy effect. But, when this is done, not only without tenderness or sympathy, but often with manifestations of great pleasure, and whenchildren, as in some cases, are almost constant witnesses of such scenes, how dreadful must be the results!
In this view, the world, I mean our own portion of it, sometimes seems to me like one mighty slaughter-house—one grand school for the suppression of every kind, and tender, and brotherly feeling—one grand process of education to the entire destitution of all moral principle—one vast scene of destruction to all moral sensibility, and all sympathy with the woes of those around us. Is it not so?
I have seen many boys who shuddered, at first, at the thought of taking the life, even of a snake, until compelled to it by what they conceived to be duty; and who shuddered still more at taking the life of a lamb, a calf, a pig, or a fowl. And yet I have seen these same boys, in subsequent life, become so changed, that they could look on such scenes not merely with indifference, but with gratification. Is this change of feeling desirable? How long is it after we begin to look with indifference on pain and suffering in brutes, before we begin to be less affected than before by human suffering?
I am not ignorant that sentiments like these are either regarded as morbid, and therefore pitiable, or as affected, and therefore ridiculous. Who that has read the story of Anthony Benezet, as related by Dr. Rush, has not smiled at what he must have regarded a feeling wholly misplaced, if nothing more? And yet it was a feeling which I think is very far from deserving ridicule, however homely the manner of expressing it. But I have related this interesting story in another part of the work.
I am not prepared to maintain, strongly, the old-fashioneddoctrine, that a butcher who commences his employment at adult age, is necessarily rendered hardhearted or unfeeling; or, that they who eat flesh have their sensibilities deadened, and their passions inflamed by it—though I am not sure that there is not some truth in it. I only maintain, that to render children familiar with the taking away of animal life,—especially the lives of our own domestic animals, often endeared to us by many interesting circumstances of their history, or of our own, in relation to them,—cannot be otherwise than unhappy in its tendency.
How shocking it must be to the inhabitants of Jupiter, or some other planet, who had never before witnessed these sad effects of the ingress of sin among us, to see the carcasses of animals, either whole or by piece-meal, hoisted upon our very tables before the faces of children of all ages, from the infant at the breast, to the child of ten or twelve, or fourteen, and carved, and swallowed; and this not merely once, but from day to day, through life! What could they—what would they—expect from such an education of the young mind and heart? What, indeed, but mourning, desolation, and woe!
On this subject the First Annual Report of the American Physiological Society thus remarks—and I wish the remark might have its due weight on the mind of the reader:
"How can it be right to be instrumental in so much unnecessary slaughter? How can it be right, especially for a country of vegetable abundance like ours, to give daily employment to twenty thousand or thirty thousand butchers? How can it be right to train our children to behold such slaughter? How can it beright to blunt the edge of their moral sensibilities, by placing before them, at almost every meal, the mangled corpses of the slain; and not only placing them there, but rejoicing while we feast upon them?"
One striking evidence of the tendency which an habitual shedding of blood has on the mind and heart, is found in the fact that females are generally so reluctant to take away life, that notwithstanding they are trained to a fondness for all sorts of animal food, very few are willing to gratify their desires for a stimulating diet, by becoming their own butchers. I have indeed seen females who would kill a fowl or a lamb rather than go without it; but they are exceedingly rare. And who would not regard female character as tarnished by a familiarity with such scenes as those to which I have referred? But if the keen edge of female delicacy and sensibility would be blunted by scenes of bloodshed, are not the moral sensibilities of our own sex affected in a similar way? And must it not, then, have a deteriorating tendency?
It cannot be otherwise than that the circumstances of which I have spoken, which so universally surround infancy and childhood, should take off, gradually, the keen edge of moral sensibility, and lessen every virtuous or holy sympathy. I have watched—I believe impartially—the effect on certain sensitive young persons in the circle of my acquaintance. I have watched myself. The result has confirmed the opinion I have just expressed. No child, I think, can walk through a common market or slaughter-house without receiving moral injury; nor am I quite sure that any virtuous adult can.
How have I been struck with the change produced in the young mind by that merriment which often accompaniesthe slaughter of an innocent fowl, or lamb, or pig! How can the Christian, with the Bible in hand, and the merciful doctrines of its pages for his text,
"Teach me to feel another's woe,"
"Teach me to feel another's woe,"
—the beast's not excepted—and yet, having laid down that Bible, go at once from the domestic altar to make light of the convulsions and exit of a poor domestic animal?
Is it said, that these remarks apply only to theabuseof a thing, which, in its place, is proper? Is it said, that there is no necessity of levity on these occasions? Grant that there is none; still the result is almost inevitable. But there is, in any event, one way of avoiding, or rather preventing both the abuse and the occasion for abuse, by ceasing to kill animals for food; and I venture to predict that the evil never will be prevented otherwise.
The usual apology for hunting and fishing, in all their various and often cruel forms,—whereby so many of our youth, from the setters of snares for birds, and the anglers for trout, to the whalemen, are educated to cruelty, and steeled to every virtuous and holy sympathy,—is, the necessity of the animals whom we pursue for food. I know, indeed, that this is not, in most cases, the true reason, but it is the reason given—it is the substance of the reason. It serves as an apology. They who make it may often be ignorant of the true reason, or they or others may wish to conceal it; and, true to human nature, they are ready to give every reason for their conduct, but the real and most efficient one.
It must not, indeed, be concealed that there is one more apology usually made for these cruel sports; andmade too, in some instances, by good men; I mean, by men whose intentions are in the main pure and excellent. These sports are healthy, they tell us. They are a relief to mind and body. Perhaps no good man, in our own country, has defended them with more ingenuity, or with more show of reason and good sense, than Dr. Comstock, in his recent popular work on Human Physiology. And yet, there is scarcely a single advantage which he has pointed out, as being derived from the "pleasures of the chase," that may not be gained in a way which savors less of blood. The doctor himself is too much in love with botany, geology, mineralogy, and the various branches of natural history, not to know what I mean when I say this. He knows full well the excitement, and, on his own principles, the consequent relief of body and mind from their accustomed and often painful round, which grows out of clambering over mountains and hills, and fording streams, and climbing trees and rocks, to need any very broad hints on the subject; to say nothing of the delights of agriculture and horticulture. How could he, then, give currency to practices which, to say the least,—and by his own concessions, too,—are doubtful in regard to their moral tendencies, by inserting his opinions in favor of sports, for which he himself happens to be partial, in a school-book? Is this worthy of those who would educate the youth of our land on the principles of the Bible?
I believe it is conceded by most intelligent men, that all the arguments we bring against the use of animal food, which are derived from anatomy, physiology, orthe laws of health, or even of psychology, are well founded. But they still say, "Man is not what he once was; he is strangely perverted; that custom, or habit, which soon becomes second nature, and often proves stronger to us than first nature, has so changed him that he is more a creature of art than of nature, or at least offirstnature. And though animal food was not necessary to him at first—perhaps not in accordance with his best interests—yet it has become so by long use; and as a creature of art rather than of nature, he now seems to require it."
This reasoning, at first view, appears veryspecious. But upon second view, we see it is wanting—greatly so—in solidity. It takes for granted, as I understand it, that what we call civilization, has rendered animal food necessary to man. But is it not obvious that the condition of things which is thus supposed to render this species of food necessary, is not likely to disappear—nay, that it is every century becoming more and more the law, so to speak, of the land? Who is to stop the labor-saving machine, the railroad car, or the lightning flash of intelligence?
And do not these considerations, if they prove any thing, prove quite too much? For if, in the onward career of what is thus called civilization, we have gone from a diet which scarcely required the use of animal food in order to render it both palatable and healthful, to one in whose dishes it is generally blended in some one or more of its forms, must we not expect that a still further progress in the same course will render the same kind of diet still more indispensable? If flesh, fish, fowl, butter, cheese, eggs, lard, etc., are much more necessary to us now, than they were a thousandyears ago, will they not be still more necessary a thousand years hence?
I do not see how we can avoid such a conclusion. And yet such a conclusion will involve us in very serious difficulties. In Japan and China—the former more especially—if the march of civilization should be found to have rendered animal food more necessary, it has at the same time rendered it less accessible to the mass of the population. The great increase of the human species has crowded out the animals, even the domestic ones. Some of the old historians and geographers tell us that there are not so many domestic animals in the whole kingdom of Japan, as in a single township of Sweden. And must not all nations, as society progresses and the millennium dawns, crowd out the animals in the same way? It cannot be otherwise. True, there may remain about the same supply as at present from the rivers and seas, and perchance from the air; but what can these do for the increasing hundreds of millions of such large countries? What do they for Japan? In short, if the reasoning above were good and valid, it would seem to show that precisely at the point of civilization where animal food becomes most necessary, at precisely that point it becomes most scarce.
These things do not seem to me to go well together. We must reject the one or the other. If we believe in a millennium, we must, inevitably, give up our belief in animal food, at least the belief that its necessity grows out of the increasing wants of society. Or if, on the other hand, we believe in the increasing necessity of animal food, we must banish from our minds all hope of what we call a millennium, at least for the present.
It is not at all uncommon for those who find themselves driven from all their strong-holds, in this matter, to fly to the Bible. Our Saviour ate flesh and fish, say they; and the God of the New Testament, as well as of the Old, in this and other ways, not only permitted but sanctioned its use.
But, to say nothing of the folly of going, for proof of every thing we wish to prove, to a book which was never given for this purpose, or of the fact that in thus adducing Scripture to prove our favorite doctrines, we often go too far, and prove too much; is it true that the Saviour ate flesh and fish? Or, if this could be proved, is it true that his example binds us forever to that which other evidence as well as science show to be of doubtful utility? Paul did not think so, most certainly. It is good neither to eat flesh nor to drink wine, he says, if it cause our brother to offend. Did not Paul understand, at least as well as we, the precepts and example of our Saviour?
And as to a permission to Noah and his descendants, the Jews, to use animal food—was it not for the hardness of the human heart, as our Saviour calls it? From the beginning, was it so? Is not man, in the first chapter of Genesis, constituted a vegetable-eater? Was his constitution ever altered? And if so, when and where? Will they who fly to the Bible for their support, in this particular, please to tell us?
But it is idle to go to the Bible, on this subject. I mean, it is idle to pretend to do so, when we mean not so much. Men whoinclineto wine and other alcoholic drinks, plead the example and authority of theBible. Yet you will hardly find a man who drinks wine simply because he believes the Bible justifies its use. He drinks it for other reasons, and then makes the foolish excuse that the Bible is on his side. So in regard to the use of flesh meat. Find a man who really uses flesh or fishbecausethe Bible requires him to do so, and I will then discuss the question with him on Bible ground. Till that time, further argument on this direction is unnecessary.
But I must conclude this long essay. There is one consideration, however, which I am unwilling to omit, although, in deciding on the merits of the question before us, it may not have as much weight—regarded as a part of the moral argument—on every mind, as it has on my own.
Suppose the great Creator were to make a new world somewhere in the regions of infinite space, and to fit it out in most respects like our own. It is to be the place and abode of such minerals, vegetables, and animals as our own. Instead, however, of peopling it gradually, he fills it at once with inhabitants; and instead of having the arts and the sciences in their infancy, he creates every thing in full maturity. In a word, he makes a world which shall be exactly a copy of our own, with the single exception that the 800,000,000 of free agents in it shall be supposed to be wholly ignorant in regard to the nature of the food assigned them. But the new world is created, we will suppose, at sunrise, in October. The human inhabitants thereof have stomachs, and soon, that is, by mid-day or before night, feel the pangs of hunger. Now, what will they eat?
The world being mature, every thing in it is, of course, mature. Around, on every hand, are cornfields with their rich treasures; above, that is, in the boughs of the orchards, hang the rich russets, pippins, and the various other excellent kinds of the apple, with which our own country and other temperate climates abound. In tropical regions, of course, almost every vegetable production is flourishing at that season, as well as the corn and the apple. Or, he has but to look on the surface of the earth on which he stands, and there are the potatoe, the turnip, the beet, and many other esculent roots; to say nothing of the squash, the pumpkin, the melon, the chestnut, the walnut, the beechnut, the butternut, the hazelnut, etc.,—most of which are nourishing, and more or less wholesome, and are in full view. Around him, too, are the animals. I am willing even to admit the domestic animal—the horse, the ox, the sheep, the dog, the cat, the rabbit, the turkey, the goose, the hen, yes, and even the pig. And now, I ask again, what will he eat? He is destitute of experience, and he has no example. But he has a stomach, and he is hungry: he has hands and he has teeth; the world is all before him, and he is the lord of it, at least so far as to use such food in it as he pleases.
Does any one believe that, in these circumstances, man would prey upon the animals around him? Does any person believe—can he for one moment believe—he would forthwith imbrue his hands in blood, whether that of his own species or of some other? Would he pass by the mellow apple, hanging in richest profusion every where, inviting him as it were by its beauties? Would he pass by the fields, with their golden ears?Would he despise the rich products of field, and forest, and garden, and hasten to seize the axe or the knife, and, ere the blood had ceased to flow, or the muscles to quiver, give orders to his fair but affrighted companion within to prepare the fire, and make ready the gridiron or the spider? Or, without the knowledge even of this, or the patience to wait for the tedious process of cooking to be completed, would he eat raw the precious morsel? Does any one believe this? Can any one—I repeat the question—can any one believe it?
On the contrary, would not every living human being revolt, at first, from the idea, let it be suggested as it might, of plunging his hands in blood? Can there be a doubt that he would direct his attention at first—yes, and for a long time afterward—to the vegetable world for his food? Would it not take months and years to reconcile his feelings—his moral nature—to the thought of flesh-mangling or flesh-eating? At least, would not this be the result, if he were a disciple of Christianity? Although professing Christians, as the world is now constituted, do not hesitate to commit such depredations, would they do so in the circumstances we have supposed?
I am sure there can be but one opinion on this subject; although I confess it impossible for me to say how it may strike other minds constituted somewhat differently from my own. With me, this consideration of the subject has weight and importance. It is not necessary, however. The argument—the moral argument, I mean—is sufficient, as it seems to me, without it. What then shall we say of the anatomical, the physiological, the medical, the political, the economical, the experimental, the Bible, the millennial, and the moralarguments, when united? Have they not force? Are they not a nine-fold cord, not easily broken? Is it not too late in the day of human improvement to meet them with no argument but ignorance, and with no other weapon but ridicule?