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Ladies Repository and Gatherings of the West

1846-Feb | W.N., "Cruelty to Brutes, Extract from a Journal" Ladies Repository and Gatherings of the West 6 (1846-Feb): 46-48; Digitized by Google; Online at Google Books.

Cruelty to Brutes, Extracts from a Jounal

W. N.

Ladies Repository and Gatherings of the West

CRUELTY TO BRUTES.
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EXTRACT FROM A JOURNAL, ETC.

The Ass. He was a beautifully formed creature, of a light silver gray, and marked on the hack, as usual, with a well-defined black cross. His skin was smooth and glossy, his head erect, and his eye, though mild, peculiarly penetrating and intelligent. He was evidently a pet, and, as evidently, seemed to know it. He approached the window of the little inn where we sat, with an expression at once gentle, conciliatory, and confiding, and solicited, with all the eloquence he was master of, a better acquaintance with the travelers. On our part, we were not tardy to entertain the visitor with courtesy; so, stepping to the door, I handed him a share of our biscuits. This, as gentlemen of his character are usually in favor of practical benevolence, at once confirmed his trust in our friendship; and entering the door with a look that plainly said, "I thank you heartily for my welcome," he held his head to he patted, and then projected his month for more biscuits. In a moment we were as well acquainted aa if we had known each other for years.

But a scene of a different character was at hand. Whilst with a pensive air, as if meditating on the fleeting joys of life, he took his way toward the lake, a stout Highlander attracted, probably, by the beauty of the animal, hut differently actuated by it, laid roughly hold of poor Jack's ears, and endeavored to spring upon his hack. The ass struggled to get away; hut the hardy mountaineer had otherwise resolved, and the conflict thickened. The ass had the worst of it. Just, however, as our sympathies were raised to the highest pitch, by the apparent mortification the poor animal experienced from his tormentor—by a sudden and unexpected start, (which I presume was an exhibition of the "Highland fling,") he threw his assailant to the distance of some yards; and, while the merry laugh at the practical joke, rang from the assembled boatmen on the landing, kicking up his heels in triumph, he scampered to the adjacent mountain in ecstasy.

As, with a feeling of unfeigned satisfaction at the result of the contest, I closed the window, I was led, involuntarily, into the discussion of the point of the probable future existence of the lower animals.

If, independently of the argument founded upon the evident traces of reason in the brute creation, particularly in the dog and the elephant; if, from the fact, said I, that no particle of matter is annihilated, hut only variously modified, and that the earth itself shall merely "he changed," it he inferred that the soul is immortal; if, too, the indestructibility of the thinking principle, (call it what we may,) he assumed from its immateriality; if dreams he received as evidence of the separate existence of mind; if "self-preservation," or an innate desire to preserve ourselves from destruction; if the suffering at death, when, as it has been remarked, any benefit to he derived from it to human character, (at least so far as the sufferer is concerned,) cannot, in this world, he reasonably expected; and if disease and pain to created beings, no doubt permitted with the gracious design of promoting the advantage or happiness of those beings, either here or hereafter, he available arguments in favor of our existence after death, they will apply with equal force to all the inferior animals as to ourselves. Besides, the inequality of the advantages of this life, as it goes to prove the certainty of future retribution, is an argument still more applicable to brutes than to man; because, not being morally accountable, they cannot suffer in consequence of the violation of any moral law. Vet, of two of those animals, one shall he in a state of enjoyment, according to its nature and capacities, while another shall he the victim of a spinal, or other excruciating disease, that renders it a mercy to deprive it of life; one shall he fed, caressed, and comfortably lodged, while another shall he exposed to cold, thirst, and hunger—to distempers from starvation, neglect, and parsimony; or, perhaps, even to the cruel and wicked sport of children. In fine, one shall almost excite our envy; the other our tenderest compassion; and he who will reflect on the usefulness, the endurance under fatigue and privation, yet, on the often inflicted and poignant sufferings of the poor ass, will perceive enough, all the world over, to produce the latter emotion.

Observe even that cat, which, although hungry, carries a morsel of meat to her kitten; and, with the flavor fresh upon her tongue, turns the piece over and over to induce the little one to partake of it, and will not swallow an atom of it herself, until her every effort has failed. This, they say, is instinct; but in those that say so, it would he accounted an evidence, not merely of affection, but of that greatest attribute of a rational creature, Self-Denial!

It may be said that I have a sympathy for brutes. Be it so. I would value the friendship of a bear, and think the man who would return it with ingratitude, fit for any treason or treachery on earth. I love the whole of Heaven's unoffending, faithful creatures, and in all their sufferings my bosom bleeds for them. Even for inanimate objects, the heart will form an attachment that suffers violence from the thought of separation. And happy in this, at least, are the brutes, that they suffer not from apprehension; that they anticipate not the trials and separations of the future.

Pursuing the subject a little further, I drew, in my mind, the picture of a noble Newfoundland dog. Self-sacrificing generosity was written in every lineament of his joyous face. Twice he had extricated his master's son from the pond, and once he had saved the gardener's boy from a ferocious Pyreneau wolf. His faithfulness and attachment to his master's house and family knew no bounds. But alas for the sequel! At nights he was placed in an outhouse, which being set on fire by the carelessness of the servants, during the absence of the family, the poor dog met a miserable fate. I saw him writhe in agony. * * * * And is it probable, thought I, that a being we believe to he sinless, shall he subject to pain and to torture, and yet, that its existence shall terminate with the last pang it is capable of enduring!

Another dog, of the famous St. Bernard breed, passed before my view. If benevolence, meekness, firmness, and fidelity, were not expressed in his countenance and hearing, I know not where to look for them. There he bounded over the glacier with the nourishment intended to revive the traveler overwhelmed in the snow. My heart bounded along with him! Now he solicits that way-worn creature to place his little boy upon his back, and to follow to the monastery of the great St. Bernard.

That child was an only one, and penury only, had compelled his mother to consent to his accompanying his father in search of a more propitious place of residence. They were now on their return. How, month after month, and year after year, that mother's anxious eye would have scanned in vain the mountain path, in hopes of meeting their much loved forms, had they perished in that snow-drift. But they are saved; and make sixteen human beings that the indefatigable Carlo has rescued from destruction on ill-mountain.

I continued to draw my picture. I saw, on another occasion, a bandit, who meditated an attack upon the monastery, lurking behind a projecting crag. He fired, and wounded, though not mortally, this faithful guardian of its walls, as he flew on his wonted mission of mercy. Carlo groaned and fell over the precipice. And there he lies, unable to save himself, who had saved so many; and, most of all, distressed that he cannot run his errand. He eats up the store that he was bearing to the sufferers on the mountain; and then, as he licks the snow around him, slowly starves. His hardy frame and mountain habits enable him to resist the cold. He lingers in misery, and whines for the friendly hand that used so oft to feed him after his journeys, and caress him for his dutiful exertions. But no friendly hand is near. I see him—hut no, it is impossible to witness the catastrophe. * * * O, mercy! is there no recompense, or, if the word be preferable, is there no solace for such beings but annihilation?

See stretched upon that scorched and sandy common, one of the finest animals in existence. Boldness and magnanimity were stamped upon his brow, indomitable resolution flashed from his eye, intrepidity and the glory of achievement issued from his nostrils, and the light of romantic adventure and chivalrous daring played upon his neck, and gave spirit and beauty to his every motion. He was once the favorite steed of some wealthy citizen. Often had he borne his master in search of health, and had drawn his family on parties of pleasure. But years crept over him: he had no longer the noble hearing of his youth: no longer was his mane thrown proudly to the breeze. His former services were forgotten, and from the auction mart he was transferred to the stone quarry. Here he dragged out a miserable existence; and though he had earned much for his employers, his "business capacity" was, ultimately, weighed against his board; and as it appeared that the balance of dollars and cents was turning unfavorably to him, he was found guilty, and sentenced to the inhospitable common. Alas! too common, as well as too inhospitable a lot was that sentence.

Was there no friendly bullet, no deadly drug, no lancet to shorten the pangs of that noble creature? No! lingering torture was the punishment inflicted upon him for his life of usefulness and labor. For one or two of the autumn months, a few scattered blades of grass, nourished by the dews of night, sustained his feeble frame. But no water touched his lips, except what, for a few minutes, after an occasional thunder shower, flowed through the broken gullies of the plain. In two months—although into that two months whole ages of suffering, intense, were crowded—in two months, those dewy blades of gross had ceased to spring from the charitable breast of our common mother, Earth; and there, if you can hear to look upon it, he lies, without shade, in the daily sun, without shelter from the nightly frost, without a morsel of food, without a drop of water—a very Dives in his earthly place of torture. Can you look upon that picture? It is a true one! O, wicked as it is to oppress, and cruelly to torment and tyrannize over an unoffending fellow-creature, who, at least, can make his wrongs known to the world, thrice wicked is the treacherous and cowardly act of cruelty, that consigns to unmitigated pain the dependent being that was entitled to look up to us for gratitude, for kindness, and for protection; or, in the worst event, for an easy death. Truly "a righteous man regardeth the life of his beast: but the tender mercies of the wicked are cruel."

The foregoing atrocity (the exposure of horses) arises from the exclusion of every idea but that of gain, which takes place in a sordid and ignorant mind. But other cruelties there are, which, incredible as it may seem, are loved for their own sakes only. We have had books written on the "Pleasures of Hope," the "Pleasures of Memory," the "Pleasures of Imagination," &c. Then is it not strange that one should never have been written on so popular a theme as the pleasures of cruelty? Let us, for a moment, contemplate the beauties that such a work might contain. And first, what a feast would the description of a cock-fight be to a sensitive heart! Suppose you see those two noble birds purposely placed in such a position as will necessarily excite their anger with each other. Each thinks the other is "crowing over him." In the success of this deception there is a great intellectual gratification. It is delightful! Then they spring at each other, and peck, and tear, till the blood gushes from various wounds; while, at the same time, (enchanting spectacle!) their eyes are possibly torn from their sockets. At last they drive their bills, or spurs, (the latter artificial, to be the more refinedly cruel,) into each other's brains; and after struggling for a time in painful convulsions, they finally get rest, in death, from their torturing owners. What a pity their sufferings cannot be indefinitely prolonged for the benefit of those that take pleasure in them!

Then a bull, or a bear-baiting; a turpentined cat on fire, and in terror and excruciating agony—how exquisite! or a dog-fight—aye, there's a pleasure for a civilized age. Treacherously deceived, by the hypocrite man, into the belief that each is the enemy of the other, two dogs of equal size, strength, and courage, are infuriated to seize each other by the throat. Should one of them prematurely finish his sufferings, by getting strangled at the beginning of the fight, it is but half a pleasure to their amiable masters, at whose behest those devoted creatures are ready to die. The full and cruel pleasure is to watch their strength giving way by degrees; while they tug and tear the flesh off each other's hones, and die by slow, inquisitorial degrees of torment, as the crowd, hissing like serpents, and yelling with fiendish delight, are endeavoring to urge the poor beings to continue an amusement fit only for demons. How nearly does the spirit elicited and manifested in these relaxations, resemble the spirit that is breathed in the Divine announcement, "Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy?"

But to conclude. If the lower animals really experience so great an inequality in their condition in this life; if, too, an innocent and faithful brute is liable to be recompensed with pain, with misery, and with death; and that we do not conceive for him another state of existence, where the Creator who careth for the "raven" and the "sparrow," and "provideth" for the smallest of his creatures, shall requite him for his sufferings, how can we suppose that equal justice is done to animated nature?

MORAL REFLECTION

Could we, moreover, have a greater inducement (as is naturally suggested by the subject) to avoid cruelty to other animals, than to feel that it is not only attended with a certain deterioration of character to ourselves, unqualifying us for heaven, ut that in every sentient being, unnecessarily pained by us, though silent he may be under our treatment here, we may meet an accusing spirit in a retributive state of extistence hereafter? W. N.