Chapter XXII: Introduction (22)

Quite apart from the doctors, however, a great deal of the sickliness of women is undoubtedly due to wretched fashions of tight-lacing, and wearing long and heavy skirts, and tight, thin boots, which render free exercise of their limbs impossible. Nothing makes me really despair of my sex, except looking at fashion-plates; or seeing (what is much worse still, being wicked, as well as foolish) the adornments so many women use of dead birds, stuck on their empty heads and heartless breasts. These things are a disgrace to women for which I have often felt they _deserve_ to be despised and swept aside by men as soulless creatures unworthy of freedom. But alas! it is precisely the women who adopt these idiotic fashions in dress, and wear (abominable cruelty!) Egrets as ornaments, who are _not_ despised but admired by men, who reserve their indifference and contempt for their homely and sensible sisters. Men in these respects are as silly as the fish in the river caught by a gaudy artificial fly on a hook, or enticed into a net by a scrap of scarlet cloth, and a glittering morsel of brass. I often wonder whether women are generally, as little capable of forming a discriminating judgment of men?

Lastly, there is a cause of female ill-health which always impresses me with profoundest pity, and which has never, I think, been fairly brought to the front as the origin of a large part of feminine feebleness. I mean the common want, among women who earn their livelihood, of sufficiently brain-nourishing and stimulating food. Let any man, the strongest in the land in body and mind, subsist for one week on tea without milk, and bread and butter, and at the end of that time, he will, I venture to predict, have lost half his superiority. His nervous excitability and cheerfulness may remain, or even be enhanced, but the faculty of largely grasping and strongly dealing with the subjects presented to him, and of doing thorough and complete work, nay even the _desire_ of such perfection and finish, will have abated; and the fatal _slovenliness_ of women’s work will probably have begun to show itself. The physical conditions under which the human spirit can alone (in this life) carry out its purpose and attain its maximum of vigour, are more or less lacking to half the women even in our country; and almost completely wanting to the poor prisoners of the Zenanas of India and the cripples of China. Exercise in the open air, wholesome and sufficient food, plenty of sleep at night,—every one of these _sine qua non_ elements of real Health of Mind, as well as of Body, are out of reach of one woman out of every two; yet we remark, curiously, on the inferiority of their work! It is a vicious circle in which they are caught. They take lower wages because they can live more cheaply than men; and they necessarily live on those low wages too poorly to do anything but poor work;—and again their wages are paltry because their work is so poor!

I confess, however, that—on the other hand—the spectacle of feminine feebleness and futility when (as continually happens) it is exhibited without the smallest excuse from inadequate food supply, is indescribably irritating, nay, to me, humiliating and exasperating. Watch (for example of what I mean by “feminine futility”) a woman asked to open a just-arrived box, or a bottle of champagne or of soda-water. She has been given a cold-chisel for opening the box, and a hammer; but they are invariably “astray” when required, or she does not think it worth while to fetch them from up or downstairs, so she kneels down before the box and begins by fumbling with her fingers at the knots in the cord. After five minutes’ efforts and broken nails, she gives this up in despair, and “thinks she must cut it.” But how? She never by any chance has a knife in her pocket; so she first tries her scissors, which she _does_ keep there, but which, being always quite blunt, fail to sever the rope; and then she fetches a dinner-knife, and gives one cut,—when the feminine passion for economy suggests to her that she can save the rest of the cord by pushing it (with immense effort) an inch or two along the box, first at one side and then at the other. Then she hopes by breaking open the top of the box at one end only, to get out the contents without dealing further with the recalcitrant rope; and she endeavours to pull it open where the nails seem least firm. Alas! those nails will never yield to her weak hands; so her scissors are in requisition again, and being inserted and used as a wedge, immediately break off at the points, and are hastily withdrawn with an exclamation of agonising regret for the blunt, but precious, instrument. Something must be thrust in, however, to prize open the box. The cold-chisel and hammer having been at last sought, but sought in vain, the kitchen cleaver, covered with the fat of the last joint it has cut, is brought into play; or, happy thought! she knows where her master keeps a fine sharp chisel, and this is pushed in,—of course against a nail which breaks the edge and makes it useless for ever. The poker serves sufficiently well as a hammer to knock in the chisel, or the cleaver, and to bang up the protruding lid of the box; and at last one plank of the top is loosened, and she tears it off triumphantly, with a cry of rejoicing: “There! Now, we shall get at everything in the box!” The goods, however, stubbornly refuse to be extricated through the hole on any terms; and eventually all the planks have to be successively broken up, and the long-cared-for cord (for the preservation of which so much trouble has been undergone) is cut into little pieces of a foot or two in length, each attached to a hopelessly entangled knot, while the box itself is entirely wrecked.

The case of the soda-water, or champagne bottle is worse again; so much so that experience warns the wise to forbear from calling for effervescent drinks where parlour-maids prevail. The preliminary ineffectual attempt to loosen the wires with the fingers (the proper pliers being, of course, missing); the resort to a steel carving-fork to open them, and, in default of the steel fork, to a silver one, which is, of course, bent immediately; the endeavour to cut the hempen cord with the bread knife with the result of blunting that tool against the wire; the struggle to cause the cork to fly by wobbling it with the right hand, while clasping the neck of the bottle till it and the contents are hot in the left; then (on the failure of this bold attempt) the cutting off the head of the cork with a carving knife, and at the same time a small slice of the operator’s hand, which, of course, bleeds profusely; the consequent hasty transference of the bottle and the job to a second attendant; the hurried search of the same in the side-table drawer for the corkscrew; her rush to the kitchen to fetch that instrument where it has been nefariously borrowed and where the point of the screw has been broken off; the difficult (and crooked) insertion of the broken screw into the cork; the repeated frantic tugs at the bottle, held tight between the knees, finally the climax, when the cork bursts out and the champagne along with it, up in the reddening face and over the white muslin apron of the poor anxious woman, who hurries nervously to wipe it off, and then pours the small quantity of liquor which remains bubbling over the glasses, till the table-cloth is swamped;—such in brief is Feminine Futility, as exhibited in the drawing of corks! Luckily it is possible to find parlour-maids who know how to use, and will keep at hand, both cold-chisels and corkscrews. But they are exceptions. The normal woman, in the presence of a nailed-down box or a champagne bottle, behaves as I have depicted from careful study; and the irritation she produces in me is past words, especially if a man be waiting for his beverage and observing the spectacle of the helplessness of my sex. If “Man” be “a tool-making animal,” I am afraid that “Woman” is a “tool-breaking” one. I think every girl, as well as every boy, ought to be given a month’s training in a carpenter’s shop to teach her how to strike a nail straight; what is the difference between the proper insertion and extraction of nails and of screws; why chisels should not be employed as screw-drivers; how far preferable for making holes are gimlets to hairpins or the points of scissors; and, finally, the general superiority of glue over paste or gum for sticking wooden furniture when broken by her besom of destruction!

My dear friend Emily Shaen wrote an excellent tract which I should like to see republished, urging that it is absurd to go on talking of the House being the proper sphere of a woman, while we neglect to teach her the very rudiments of a _Hausfrau’s_ duties, and leave her to find them all out, at her husband’s expense, when she marries. The nature of gas and of gasometers, and how _not_ to cause explosions nor be cheated in the bill; the arrangements of water-works in houses, pipes, drains, cisterns, ball-cocks and all the rest, for hot and cold water; the choice of properly morticed, not merely glued, furniture; what constitutes a good kitchen range, and how coal should be economised in it; how to choose fresh meat, &c., such should be her lessons. To this might be usefully added an inkling of the laws relating to masters and servants, debts, bills, &c., &c., and of the elementary arrangements of banking and investing money. It was once discovered at my school that a very clever young lady, who could speak four languages and play two instruments well, _could not read the clock_! I think there are many grown up women, well-educated according to the ordinary standard of their class, whose ignorance concerning the simplest matters of household duty is not a whit less absurd.

In 1881—I prepared and delivered to an audience of about 150 ladies, in the Westminster Palace Hotel, a course of six Lectures on the _Duties of Women_. My dear friend, Miss Anna Swanwick took the chair for me on these occasions, and performed her part with such tact and geniality as to give me every advantage. My auditors were very attentive and sympathetic, and altogether the task was made very pleasant to me. I repeated the course again at Clifton the same year, Mrs. Beddoe, the wife of Dr. John Beddoe the anthropologist who was then living at that place, most obligingly lending me her large drawing-rooms.

These Lectures when printed, went through three editions in England and, I think, eight in America, the last being brought out by Miss Willard, who adopted the little book as the first of a series on women’s concerns, published by her vast and wonderful organisation, the W.C.T.U.

My object in giving these Lectures was to impress women as strongly as might be in my power, with the unspeakable importance of adding to our claims for just _Rights_ of all kinds, the adoption of the highest standard of _Duty_; and the strict preservation amongst us of all womanly virtues, while adding to them those others to the growth of which our conditions have hitherto been unfavourable,—namely, Truth and Courage. I desired also to discuss the new views current amongst us respecting filial and conjugal “obedience;” the proper attitude to be held towards (unrepentant) vice, and many other topics. Finally I wished to place the efforts to obtain political freedom on what I deem to be their proper ground. I ask:

“What ought we to do at present, as concerns all public work wherein
it is possible for us to obtain a share?

“The question seems to answer itself in its mere statement. We are
bound to do all we can to promote the virtue and happiness of our
fellow-men and women, and _therefore_ we must accept and seize every
instrument of power, every vote, every influence which we can obtain,
to enable us to promote virtue and happiness.

“... Why are we not to wish and strive to be allowed to place our
hands on that vast machinery whereby, in a constitutional realm, the
great work of the world is carried on, and which achieves by its
enormous power, ten-fold either the good or the harm which any
individual can reach; which may be turned to good or turned to harm
according to the hands which touch it? In almost every case it is only
by legislation that the roots of great evils can be reached at all,
and that the social diseases of pauperism, vice and crime can be
brought within hope of cure.

“You will judge from these remarks the ground on which, as a matter of
duty, I place the demand for woman’s political emancipation. I think
we are bound to seek it, in the first place, as a means,—a very great
means,—of fulfilling our Social Duty, of contributing to the virtue
and happiness of mankind, and advancing the Kingdom of God. There are
many other reasons, viewed from the point of Expediency; but this is
the view from that of Duty. We know too well that men who possess
political rights do not always, or often, regard them in this fashion;
but this is no reason why we should not do so. We also know that the
individual power of one vote at any election seems rarely to effect
any appreciable difference; but this also need not trouble us, for,
little or great, if we can obtain any influence at all, we ought to
seek for it, and the multiplication of the votes of women bent on
securing conscientious candidates, would soon make it not only
appreciable, but weighty. Nay, further, the direct influence of a vote
is but a small part of the power which the possession of the political
franchise confers. Its indirect influence is far more important. In a
government like ours, where the basis of representation is so
immensely extensive the whole business of legislation is carried on by
pressure—the pressure of each represented class and party to get its
grievances redressed, to make its interests prevail.... It is one of
the sore grievances of women that, not possessing representation, the
measures which concern them are for ever postponed to the bills
promoted by the represented classes (_e.g._, the Married Woman’s
Property Bill, was, if I mistake not, six times set down for reading
in one Session in vain, the House being counted out on every
occasion).

“Thus, in asking for the Parliamentary Franchise, we are asking, as I
understand it, for the power to influence legislation generally; and
in every other kind of franchise, municipal, parochial, or otherwise,
for similar power to bring our sense of justice and righteousness to
bear on public affairs....

“What is this, after all, my friends, but _Public Spirit_; in one
shape called Patriotism, in another Philanthropy; the extension of our
sympathies beyond the narrow bounds of our homes, and disinterested
enthusiasm for every good and sacred cause? As I said at first, all
the world has recognised from the earliest times how good and noble
and wholesome a thing it is for men to have their breasts filled with
such public spirit; and we look upon them when they exhibit it as
glorified thereby. Do you think it is not equally an ennobling thing
for a _woman’s_ soul to be likewise filled with these large and
generous and unselfish emotions?”

I draw the Lectures to a conclusion thus:—

“None of us, I am sure, realise how blessed a thing we might make of
our lives if we would but give ourselves, heart and soul, to fulfil
_all_ the obligations, personal, social and religious which rest upon
us; to gain the strength—

‘To think, to feel, to do, only the holy Right,
To yield no step in the awful race, no blow in the fearful fight,’

to live, in purity and truth and courage, a life of love to God and to
man; striving to make every spot where we dwell, every region to which
our influence can extend GOD’S KINGDOM, where His Will shall be done
on earth as it is done in heaven.”

Some time after the delivery of these addresses when the Primrose League was in full activity I wrote at the request of the Committee of the Women’s Suffrage Association a circular-letter to the “Dames” (of whom I am one) begging them to endeavour to make the granting of votes to women a “plank” in their platform. I received many friendly letters in reply—but the men who influenced the League, apparently finding that they could make the Dames do their political work for them _without votes_, discouraged all movement in the desired direction, and I do not suppose that anything was gained by my attempt.

My last effort on behalf of women was to read a paper on _Women’s Duty to Women_ at the Conference of Women workers held at Birmingham in Nov., 1890. This address was received with such exceeding kindness and sympathy by my audience that the little event has left very tender recollections which I am glad to carry with me.

I will record here two paragraphs which I should like to leave as my last appeal on behalf of my sex.

“It may be an open question whether any individual woman suffers more
severely in body or mind than any individual man. There are some who
say that all our passions matched with theirs

‘Are as moonlight is to sunlight, and as water is to wine.’

A sentiment, which I am happy to tell you, Lord Tennyson has angrily
disclaimed as his own, declaring that he only ‘put it into the mouth
of an impatient fool.’ But that our _whole sex together_ suffers more
physical pain, more want, more grief, than the other, is not, I think,
open to doubt. Even if we put aside the poor Chinese women maimed from
infancy, the Hindoo women against whose cruel wrongs their noble
countryman, Malabari, has just been pleading so eloquently in
London,—if we put these and all the other prisoners of Eastern Harems,
and miserable wives of African and Australian savages out of question,
and think only of the comparatively free and happy women of
Christendom, how much more _liable to suffering_, if not always
actually condemned to suffer, is the life of women! ‘To be weak is to
be miserable,’ and we _are_ weak; always comparatively to our
companions, and weak often, absolutely, and in reference to the wants
we must supply, the duties we must perform. Now, it seems to me that
just in proportion as any one is possessed of strength of mind or of
body, or of wealth or influence, so far it behoves him, or her, to
turn with sympathy and tender helpfulness to the weakest and most
forlorn of God’s creatures, whether it be man or woman or child, or
even brute. The weight of the claim is in exact ratio of the
feebleness and helplessness and misery of the claimant.

* * * * *

“Thus, then, I would sum up the counsels which I am presuming to offer
to you. You will all remember the famous line of Terence, at which the
old Roman audience rose in a tumult of applause: ‘I am a _Man_—nothing
human is alien to me.’ I would have each of you add to this in an
emphatic way. ‘_Mulier sum. Nihil muliebre a me alienum puto._’ ‘I am
a _woman_. Nothing concerning the interests of women is alien to me.’
Take the sorrows, the wants, the dangers (above all the dangers) of
our sisters closely to heart, and, without ceasing to interest
yourself in charities having men and boys for their objects, recognise
that your earlier care should be for the weakest, the poorest, those
whose dangers are worst of all—for, (after all) ruin can only drive a
_Man_ to the workhouse; it may drive a woman to perdition! Think of
all the weak, the helpless, the wronged women and little children, and
the harmless brutes; and save and shield them as best you can; even as
the mother-bird will shelter and fight for her little helpless
fledgelings. This is the natural field of feminine courage. Then, when
you have found your work, whatever it be, give yourself to it with all
your heart, and make the resolution in God’s sight never to go to your
rest leaving a stone unturned which may help your aims. Half-and-half
charity does very little good to the objects; and is a miserable,
slovenly affair for the workers. And when the end comes and the night
closes in, the long, last night of earth, when no man can work any
more in this world, your milk-and-water, half-hearted charities will
bring no memories of comfort to you. They are not so many ‘good works’
which you can place on the credit side of your account, in the mean,
commercial spirit taught by some of the churches. Nay, rather they are
only solemn evidences that you _knew your duty_, knew you _might_ do
good, and did it not, or did it half-heartedly! What a thought for
those last days when we know ourselves to be going home to God,
God—whom at bottom after all, we have loved and shall love for
ever;—that we _might_ have served Him here, _might_ have blessed his
creatures, _might_ have done His will on earth as it is done in
Heaven, but we have let the glorious chance slip by us for ever.”

CHAPTER
XX.
_CLAIMS OF BRUTES._

Readers who have reached this twentieth Chapter of my Life will smile (as I have often done of late years) at the ascription to me in sundry not very friendly publications, of exclusive sympathy for animals and total indifference to human interests. I have seen myself frequently described as a woman “who would sacrifice any number of men, women and children, sooner than that a few rabbits should be inconvenienced.” Many good people apparently suppose me to represent a personal survival of Totemism in England; and to worship Dogs and Cats, while ready to consign the human race generally to destruction.

The foregoing pages, describing my life in old days in Ireland and the years which I spent afterwards working in the slums in Bristol, ought, I think, to suffice to dissipate this fancy picture. As a matter of fact, it has only been of late years and since their wrongs have appealed alike to my feelings of pity and to my moral sense, that I have come to bestow any peculiar attention on animals; or have been concerned with them more than is common with the daughters of country squires to whom dogs, horses and cattle are familiar subjects of interest from childhood. I have indeed always felt much affection for dogs: that is to say, for those who exhibit the true Dog-character,—which is far from being the case of every canine creature! Their eagerness, their joyousness, their transparent little wiles, their caressing and devoted affection, are to me more winning, even I may say, more really and intensely _human_ (in the sense in which a child is human), than the artificial, cold and selfish characters one meets too often in the guise of ladies and gentlemen. It is not the four legs, nor the silky or shaggy coat of the dog which should prevent us from discerning his inner nature of Thought and Love; limited Thought, it is true; but quite unlimited Love. That he is dumb, is, to me, only another claim (as it would be in a human child) on my consideration. But because I love good dogs, and, in their measure also, good horses and cats and birds, (I had once a dear and lovely white pea-hen), I am not therefore a morbid _Zoophilist_. I should be very sorry indeed to say or think like Byron when my dog dies, that I “had but one true friend, and here he lies!” I have,—thank God!—known many men and women, who have all a dog’s merits of honesty and single-hearted devotion _plus_ the virtues which can only flourish on the high level of humanity; and to them I give a friendship which the best of dogs cannot share.

That there are some Timons in the world whose hearts, embittered by human ingratitude, have turned with relief to the faithful love of a dog, I am very well aware. Surely the fact makes one appeal the more on behalf of the creatures who thus by their humble devotion heal the wounds of disappointed or betrayed affection; and who come to cheer the lonely, the unloved, the dull-witted, the blind, the poverty-stricken whom the world forsakes? I think Lamartine was right to treat this love of the Dog for Man as a special provision of Divine mercy, and to marvel,—

“Par quelle pitié pour nos cœurs Il vous donne
Pour aimer celui que n’aime plus personne!”

Not a few deep thanksgivings, I believe, have gone up to the Maker of man and brute for the silent sympathy,—expressed perhaps in no nobler way than by the gentle licking of a passive hand,—which has yet saved a human heart from the sense of utter abandonment.

But _I_ have no such sorrowful or embittering experience of human affection. I do not say, “The more I know of men the more I love dogs”; but, “The more I know of dogs the more I love _them_,” without any invidious comparisons with men, women, or children. As regards the children, indeed, I have been always fond of those which came in my way; and if the Tenth Commandment had gone on to forbid coveting one’s neighbour’s “_child_,” I am not sure that I should not have had to plead guilty to breaking it many times.

In my old home I possessed a dear Pomeranian dog of whom I was very fond, who, being lame, used constantly to ensconce herself (though forbidden by my father) in my mother’s carriage under the seat, and never showed her little pointed nose till the britzska had got so far from home that she knew no one would put her down on the road. Then she would peer out and lie against my mother’s dress and be fondled. Later on I had the companionship of another beautiful, mouse-coloured Pomeranian, brought as a puppy from Switzerland. In my hardworking life in Bristol in the schools and workhouse she followed me and ingratiated herself everywhere, and my solitary evenings were much the happier for dear Hajjin’s company. Many years afterwards she was laid under the sod of our garden in Hereford Square. Another dog of the same breed whom I sent away at one year old to live in the country, was returned to me _eight years_ afterwards, old and diseased. The poor beast recognized me after a few moments’ eager examination, and uttered an actual scream of joy when I called her by name; exhibiting every token of tender affection for me ever afterwards. When one reflects what eight years signify in the life of a dog,—almost equivalent to the distance between sixteen and sixty in a human being,—some measure is afforded by this incident of the durability of a dog’s attachment. Happily, kind Dr. Hoggan cured poor Dee of her malady, and she and I enjoyed five happy years of companionship ere she died here in Hengwrt. I have dedicated my _Friend of Man_ to her memory.

Among my smaller literary tasks in London I wrote an article for which Mr. Leslie Stephen (then editing the _Cornhill Magazine_ in which it appeared) was kind enough to express particular liking. It was called “_Dogs whom I have met_;” and gave an account of many canine individualities of my acquaintance. I also wrote an article in the _Quarterly Review_ on the _Consciousness of Dogs_ of which I have given above (p. 127) Mr. Darwin’s favourable opinion. Both of these papers are reprinted in my _False Beasts and True_. Such has been the sum total, I may say, of my personal concern with animals before and apart from my endeavours to deliver them from their scientific tormentors.

It was, as I have stated, the abominable wrongs endured by animals which first aroused, and has permanently maintained, my special interest in them. My great-grandfather had an office in the yard at Newbridge for his magisterial work, and over his own seat he caused to be inscribed the text: “_Deliver him that is oppressed from the hand of the adversary_.” I know not whether it were a juvenile impression, but I have felt all my life an irresistible impulse to rush in wherever anyone is “oppressed” and try to “deliver” him, her, or _it_, as the case may be, from the “adversary!” In the case of beasts, their helplessness and speechlessness appeal, I think, to every spark of generosity in one’s heart; and the command, “Open thy mouth for the dumb,” seems the very echo of our consciences. Everything in us, manly or womanly, (and the best in us all is _both_) answers it back.

When I was a little child, living in a house where hunting, coursing, shooting, and fishing, were carried on by all the men and boys, I took such field sports as part of the order of things, and learned with delight from my father to fish in our ponds on my own account. Somehow it came to pass that when, at sixteen, my mind went through that strange process which Evangelicals call “Conversion,” among the first things which my freshly-awakened moral sense pointed out was,—that I must give up fishing! I reflected that the poor fishes were happy in their way in their proper element; that we did not in the least need, or indeed often use them for food; and that I must no longer take pleasure in giving pain to any creature of God. It was a little effort to me to relinquish this amusement in my very quiet, uneventful life; but, as the good Quaker’s say, it was “borne in on me,” that I had to do it, and from that time I have never held a rod or line (though I have been out in boats where large quantities of fish were caught on the Atlantic coast), and I freely admit that angling scarcely comes under the head of cruelty at all, and is perfectly right and justifiable when the fish are wanted for food and are killed quickly. I used to stand sometimes after I had ceased to fish, over one of the ponds in our park and watch the bright creatures dart hither and thither, and say in my heart a little thanksgiving on their behalf instead of trying to catch them.

Fifty years after this incident, I read in John Woolman’s, (the Quaker Saint’s,) _Journal_, Chap. XI., this remark:—

“I believe, where the love of God is verily perfected and the true
spirit of government watchfully attended, a tenderness towards all
creatures made subject to us will be experienced, and a care felt in
us that we do not lessen that sweetness of life in the animal creation
which the great Creator intends for them under our government.”

To me as I have said it was almost the _first_, and not an _advanced_, much less “perfected,” religious impulse, which led me to begin to recognise the claims of the lower animals on our compassion. Of course, I disliked then, and always, hunting, coursing and shooting; but as a woman I was not expected to join in such pursuits, and I did not take on myself to blame those who followed them. I do not now allow of any comparison between the cruelty of such _Field Sports_ and the deliberate _Chamber-Sport_ of Vivisection.

I shall now relate as succinctly as possible the history of the Anti-vivisection Movement, so far as I have had to do with it. Of course an immense amount of work for the same end has been carried on all these twenty years by other Zoophilists with whom I have had no immediate connection, or perhaps cognizance of their labours, but without whose assistance the Society which I helped to found certainly could not have made as much way as it has done. I only presume here to tell the story of the Victoria Street Society, and the occurrences which led to its formation.

In the year 1863, there appeared in several English newspapers complaints of the cruelties practised in the Veterinary Schools at Alfort near Paris. The students were taught there, as in most other continental veterinary schools, to perform operations on _living_ animals, and so to acquire, (at the cost, of course, of untold suffering to the victims,) the same manipulative skill which English students gain equally well by practising on dead carcases. Living horses were supplied to the Alfort students on which, at the time I speak of, they performed sixty operations apiece, including every one in common use, and many which were purely academic, being never employed in actual practice because the horse, after enduring them, becomes necessarily useless. These operations lasted eight hours, and the aspect of the mangled creatures, hoofless, eyeless, burned, gashed, eviscerated, skinned, mutilated in every conceivable way, appalled the visitors, who reported the facts, while it afforded, they said, a subject of merriment to the horde of students. The English _Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals_ laudably exerted itself to stop these atrocities, and appealed to the Emperor to interfere; not, perhaps, very hopefully, since, as I have heard, Napoleon III. was in the habit of attending these hideous spectacles in his own imperial person on the Thursdays on which they took place. This circumstance, taken in connection with the Empress’ patronage of Bull-Fights, has made Sedan seem to me an event on which the animal world, at all events, has to be congratulated.

Some years later Mr. James Cowie took over to France an Appeal, signed by 500 English Veterinarians entreating their French colleagues to adopt the English practice of using only dead carcases for the exercises of students. Through this and other good offices it is understood that the number and severity of the operations performed at Alfort, and elsewhere in France, were then greatly reduced. Unhappily the humane regulations made in 1878 are now evaded, and the dreadful cruelties above described have been actually witnessed by Mr. Peabody and Dr. Baudry, in 1895.

On reading of these cruelties I wrote an article, _The Rights of Man and the Claims of Brutes_, which I hoped might help to direct public attention to them. In this paper I endeavoured to work out as best I could the ethical problem (which I at once perceived to be beset with difficulties) of a definition of the limits of human rights over animals. My article was published by Mr. Froude in _Fraser’s Magazine_ for Nov., 1863, and was subsequently reprinted in my _Studies Ethical and Social_. It was, so far as I know the first effort made to deal with the moral questions involved in the torture of animals either for sake of scientific and therapeutic research, or for the acquirement of manipulative skill. In the 30 years which have elapsed since I wrote it I have seen reason to raise considerably the “claims” which I then urged on behalf of the brutes, but I observe that new recruits to our Anti-vivisection party usually begin exactly where I stood at that time, and announce their ideas to me as their mature conclusions.

The same month of November, 1863, in which my article, (written some weeks before, while I was ill and lame at Aix-les-Bains), appeared in _Fraser_, I was living near Florence, and was startled by hearing of similar cruelties practised at the _Specola_, where Prof. Schiff had his laboratory. My friend Miss Blagden and I were holding our usual weekly reception in Villa Brichieri on Bellosguardo, and we learned that many of our guests had been shocked by the rumours which had reached them. In particular the American physician who had accompanied Theodore Parker to Florence and attended him in his last days,—Dr. Appleton, of Harvard University,—told us that he himself had gone over Prof. Schiff’s laboratory, and had seen dogs, pigeons and other animals in a frightfully mangled and suffering state. A Tuscan officer had seen a cat so tortured that he forced Schiff to kill it. Some 50 or 60 letters had been (or were afterwards) lodged at the Mairie from neighbours complaining of the disturbance caused by the cries and moans of the victims in the _Specola_. After much conversation I asked, What could be done to check these systematic cruelties, which no Tuscan law could then touch in any way? It was suggested that a Memorial should be addressed to Prof. Schiff himself, urging him to spare his victims as much as possible. This Memorial I drafted at once, and it was translated into Italian and sent round Florence for signatures. Mrs. Somerville placed her name at the head of it; and through her earnest exertions and those of her daughters and of several other friends, the list of supporters soon became very weighty. Among the English signatures was those of Walter Savage Landor (who added some words so violent that I was obliged to suppress them!); and among the Italians almost the whole historic aristocracy of old Florence,—Corsi’s and Corsini’s, and Aldobrandini’s and Strozzi’s, and a hundred more, the reading of whose names recalled Medicean times. In all, there were 783 signatories. Very few of them were of the _mezzo-ceto_ class, and _none_ belonged to the (Red) Republican party. Schiff was himself a “Red,” and, as such, he might, apparently, commit any cruelty he thought fit, inasmuch as he and the other vivisectors (we were told by a lady prominent in that party) were seeking “the religion of the future”—in the brains and entrails of the tortured beasts! The same lady expressed to me her wish that “every animal in creation should be immolated, if only to discover a single fact of science.” Another Englishwoman (also married to a foreigner) wrote to the _Daily News_ to praise Schiff for “actively pursuing Vivisection.”

The Memorial, as often happens, did no _direct_ good; Professor Schiff tossing it aside, and politely qualifying the signatories, (in the _Nazione_ newspaper,) as “_un tas de Marquis_.” But it certainly caused the subject to be much discussed, and doubtless prepared the way for the complaints and lawsuits concerning the “nuisances” of the moaning dogs, which eventually made Florence an unpleasant abode for Professor Schiff. He retreated thence to Geneva in 1877. The Florentine _Società Protettrice degli Animali_ was founded by Countess Baldelli in 1873, and has led the agitation there against Vivisection ever since.

Meanwhile on the presentation of the Memorial, Professor Schiff wrote a letter in the _Nazione_ (the chief newspaper of Florence) denying the facts mentioned in the letter of the official Correspondent of the _Daily News_, and challenging the said correspondent to come forward and make good the statement. I instantly wrote a letter saying that I was the _Daily News’_ Correspondent in Florence; that the letter complained of was mine; and that for verification of my assertions therein I appended a full and signed statement by Dr. Appleton of what he had himself witnessed in the _Specola_.

It was rather difficult for me then to believe that this letter of mine (in Italian of course) duly signed and authenticated with name, date and place, was refused publication in the paper wherein I had been challenged to come forward! On learning this amazing fact, I requested Dr. Appleton to go down again to Florence and ask the editor of the _Nazione_ to publish my letter if in no other way, at least _as a paid advertisement_. The answer made by the editor to Dr. Appleton was, that it might be inserted, but only among the advertisements in certain columns of the paper where no decent reader would look for it. N.B.—the _Nazione_ replenished its exchequer by the help of that class of notices which are declined by every reputable English newspaper. After this Dr. Appleton went in despair to Professor Schiff himself, and told him he was bound in honour, (seeing he had made the challenge to us,) to compel the editor to print our answer. The learned and scientific gentleman shrugged his shoulders and laughed in the face of the American who could imagine him to be so simple!

I left Florence soon after this first brush with the demon of Vivisection, but retained (as will easily be understood) very strong feelings on the subject.

At a meeting of the British Association in Liverpool in 1870 a Committee was appointed to consider the subject of “Physiological Experimentation,” and their Report was published in the _Medical Times and Gazette_, Feb. 25th, 1871; and in _British Assoc. Reports_, 1871, p. 144. It consists of the following four Rules or Recommendations on the subject of Vivisection:—

“(I.) No experiment which can be performed under the influence of an
anæsthetic ought to be done without it. (II.) No painful experiment is
justifiable for the mere purpose of illustrating a law or fact already
demonstrated; in other words, experimentation without the employment
of anæsthetics is not a fitting exhibition for teaching purposes.
(III.) Whenever, for the investigation of new truth, it is necessary
to make a painful experiment, every effort should be made to ensure
success, in order that the sufferings inflicted may not be wasted. For
this reason, no painful experiment ought to be performed by an
unskilled person, with insufficient instruments and assistants, or in
places not suitable to the purpose; that is to say, anywhere except in
physiological and pathological laboratories, under proper regulations.
(IV.) In the scientific preparation for veterinary practice,
operations ought not to be performed upon living animals for the mere
purpose of obtaining greater operative dexterity.”

These four Rules were countersigned by _M. A. Lawson_, _G. M. Humphry_ (now Sir George Humphry), _J. H. Balfour_, _Arthur Gamgee_, _William Flower_, _J. Burdon-Sanderson_, and _George Rolleston_. Of course we, who attended that celebrated Liverpool Meeting of the British Association and had heard the President laud Dr. Brown-Séquard enthusiastically, greatly rejoiced at this humane Ukase of autocratic Science.

But as time passed we were surprised to find that nothing was done to enforce these rules in any way or at any place; and that the particular practice which they most distinctly condemn, namely, the use of vivisections as Illustrations of recognised facts,—was flourishing more than ever without let or hindrance. The prospectuses of _University College_ for 1874–5, of _Guy’s Hospital Medical School 1874–5_, of _St. Thomas’s Hospital_, of _Westminster Hospital Medical School_, etc., all mentioned among their attractions: “Demonstrations on living animals;” “Gentlemen will themselves perform the experiments;” &c., and quite as if nothing whatever had been said against them.

But worse remained. One of the signatories of the above Rules (or as perhaps we may more properly call them, these “_Pious Opinions_”?),—the most eminent of English physiologists, Prof. Burdon-Sanderson himself, edited and brought out in 1873, the _Handbook of the Physiological Laboratory_, to which he, Dr. Lauder-Brunton, Dr. Klein, and Dr. Foster were joint contributors. This celebrated work is a Manual of Exercises in Vivisection, intended (as the _Preface_ says) “for beginners in Physiological work.” The following are observations on this book furnished to the Royal Commission by Mr. Colam, and printed in Appendix iv., p. 379, of their _Report_ and _Minutes_ of Evidence:—

“That the object of the editor and his coadjutors was to induce young
persons to perform experiments on their own account and without
adequate surveillance is manifest throughout the work, by the supply
of elementary knowledge and elaborate data. Not only are the names and
quantities of necessary chemicals given, but the most careful
description is provided in letter-press and plates of implements for
holding animals during their struggles, so that a novice may learn at
home without a teacher. Besides, the editor’s preface states, that the
book is ‘intended for beginners,’ and that ‘difficult and complicated’
experiments consequently have been omitted; and that of Dr. Foster
allures the student by assurances of inexpensive as well as easy
manipulation.... Very seldom indeed is the student told to
anæsthetise, and then only during an operation. It cannot be alleged
that ‘beginners’ know when to narcotise, and when not; but if they do
then the few directions to use chloral, &c., are unnecessary. No doubt
should have been left on this point in a Handbook designed ‘for
beginners.’ Besides, where will students find cautions against the
infliction of unnecessary pain, and wanton experimentation? On the
contrary, the student is encouraged to repeat the torture ‘any number
of times.’ These facts are significant.”

In the _Minutes of Evidence_ of the Royal Commission we find that the late Prof. Rolleston, of Oxford, being under examination, was asked by Mr. Hutton: “Then I understand that your opinion about the _Handbook_ is, that it is a dangerous book to society, and that it has warranted to some extent the feeling of anxiety in the public which its publication has created?” Prof. Rolleston: “_I am sorry to have to say that I do think it is so_” (1351). In his own examination Prof. Burdon-Sanderson admitted that the use of anæsthetics whenever possible “ought to have been stated much more distinctly at the beginning of his book” (2265), and agreed to Lord Cardwell’s suggestion, “Then I may assume that in any future communication with ‘beginners’ _greater pains will be taken to make them distinctly understand how animals may be saved from suffering than has been taken in this book_?” “Yes,” said Dr. B.-S., “I am quite willing to say that” (2266).

Esoteric Vivisection it will be observed, as revealed in _Handbooks_ for “Beginners,” is a very different thing from Exoteric Vivisection, described for the benefit of the outside public as if regulated by the _Four Rules_ above quoted!

The following year, 1874, certain experiments were performed before a Medical Congress at Norwich. They consisted in the injection of alcohol and of absinthe into the veins of dogs; and were done by M. Magnan, an eminent French physiologist, who has in recent years described sympathy for animals as a special form of insanity. Mr. Colam, on behalf of the R.S.P.C.A., very properly instituted a prosecution against M. Magnan, under the Act 12 and 13 Vict., c. 92; and brought Sir William Fergusson, and Dr. Tufnell (the President of the Irish College of Surgeons) to swear that his experiments were useless. M. Magnan withdrew speedily to his own country or a conviction would certainly have been obtained against him. But it was not merely on proof of the _infliction of torture_ that Mr. Colam’s Society relied to obtain such conviction, but on the high scientific authority which they were able to bring to prove that the torture was _scientifically useless_. Failing such testimony, which would generally be unattainable, it was recognised that the application of the Act in question (Martin’s Act amended) to _scientific_ cruelties, which it had not been framed to meet, would always be beset with difficulties. It became thenceforth apparent to the friends of animals that some new legislation, calculated to reach offenders pleading scientific purpose for barbarous experiments was urgently needed; and the existence of the _Handbook_, with minute directions for performing hundreds of operations,—many of them of extreme severity,—proved that the danger was not remote or theoretical; but already present and at our doors.

A few weeks after this trial at Norwich had taken place, and had justly gained great applause for Mr. Colam and the R.S.P.C.A., Mrs. Luther Holden, wife of the eminent surgeon, then Senior Surgeon of St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, called on me in Hereford Square to talk over the matter and take counsel as to what could be done to strengthen the law in the desired direction. The great and wealthy R.S.P.C.A. was obviously the body with which it properly lay to promote the needed legislation; and it only seemed necessary to give the Committee of that Society proof that public opinion would strongly support them in calling for it, to induce them to bring a suitable Bill, into Parliament backed by their abundant influence. I agreed to draft a _Memorial_ to the Committee of the R.S.P.C.A. praying it to undertake this task; after learning from Mr. Colam that such an appeal would be altogether welcome; and I may add that I received cordial assistance from him in arranging for its presentation.

It was a difficult task for me to draw up that Memorial, but, such as it was, it acted as a spark to tinder, showing how much latent feeling existed on the subject. Many ladies and gentlemen: notably the Countess of Camperdown, the Countess of Portsmouth (now the Dowager Countess), General Colin Mackenzie, Col. Wood (now Sir Evelyn) and others, exerted themselves most earnestly to obtain influential signatures in their circles, and distributed in all directions copies of the _Memorial_ and of two pamphlets I wrote to accompany it—“_Reasons for Interference_” and “_Need of a Bill_.” With their help in the course of about six weeks, (without advertisements or paid agency of any kind), we obtained 600 signatures; every one of which represented a man or woman of some social importance. The first to sign it was my neighbour and friend, Rev. Gerald Blunt, rector of Chelsea. After him came Mr. Carlyle, Tennyson, Browning, Mr. Lecky, Sir Arthur Helps, Sir W. Fergusson, John Bright, Mr. Jowett, the Archbishop of York (Dr. Thomson), Sir Edwin Arnold, the Primate of Ireland (Marcus Beresford), Cardinal Manning (then Archbishop of Westminster), the Duke and Duchess of Northumberland, John Ruskin, James Martineau, the Duke of Rutland, the Duke of Wellington, Lord Coleridge, Lord Selborne, Sir Fitzroy Kelly, the Bishops of Winchester, Exeter, Salisbury, Manchester, Bath and Wells, Hereford, St. Asaph, and Derry, Lord Russell, and many other peers and M.P.’s, and no less than 78 medical men, several of whom were eminent in the profession.

I shall insert here a few of the replies, favourable and otherwise, which I received to my invitations to sign the Memorial.

“Bishopthorpe, York,
“Dec. 28th, 1874.

“The Archbishop of York presents his compliments to Miss Cobbe and
begs to enclose the Memorial signed by him.

“‘Exception to suggestion 3rd,’ on the prohibition of publishing,
which he thinks unworkable, and therefore (illegible) to the Memorial.
If however it is too late to alter it, he will not stand out even on
that point.

“He thinks the practices in question detestable. The Norwich case was
a disgrace to the country.

“The Archbishop thanks Miss Cobbe for inviting him to sign.”

“A. B. Beresford-Hope to Miss F. P. C.
“Bedgebury Park, Cranbrook,
“Jan. 26th, 1875.

“Dear Madam,

“Lady Mildred and myself trust that it is not too late to enclose to
you the accompanying signatures to the Memorial against Vivisection,
although the day fixed for its return has unfortunately been allowed
to elapse. We can assure you of our very hearty sympathy in the cause;
the delay has wholly come of oversight.

“In regard to the details of the suggestions, I must be allowed to
express my doubt as to the feasibility of the 3rd suggestion. Its
stringency would I fear defeat its own object. I sympathise too much
with the question in itself to decline signing on account of this
proposal, but I must request to be considered as a dissentient on that
head.

“Believe me, dear Madam, yours very faithfully,

“A. B. BERESFORD-HOPE.”

“B. Jowett to Miss F. P. C.

“Dear Miss Cobbe,

“I have much pleasure in signing the paper which you kindly sent me.

“Yours very sincerely,
“B. JOWETT.

“Jan. 15th, Oxford.”

“5, Gordon Street, London, W.C.,
“January 5th, 1875.

“My dear Miss Cobbe,

“I should have been very sorry not to join in the Protest against this
hideous offence, and am truly obliged to you for furnishing me with
the opportunity. The simultaneous loss, from the Morals of our
‘advanced’ scientific men, of all reverent sentiment towards beings
_above_ them and towards beings _below_, is a curious and instructive
phenomenon, highly significant of the process which their nature is
undergoing at both ends.

“With truest wishes for many a happy and beneficent year

“Ever faithfully yours,
“JAMES MARTINEAU.”

“Manchester,
“December 26th, 1874.

“The Bishop of Manchester” [Dr. Fraser] “presents his compliments to
Miss Cobbe, and thanks her for giving him the opportunity of appending
his name to this Memorial, which has his most hearty concurrence.”

“Palace, Salisbury,
“11th January, 1875.

“The Bishop of Salisbury’s compliments to Miss Cobbe. He cannot
withhold his signature to her Paper after reading the ‘reasons which
she has kindly sent him.’”

“Addington Park, Croydon,
“January 2nd, 1875.

“Madam,

“I have received your letter of the 31st ult. on the subject of the
Memorial to the Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Animals with
regard to Vivisection.

“I hardly think I should be right, considering my imperfect
acquaintance with the subject, in adding my name thereto at present.

“Believe me to be, yours faithfully,
“A. C. CANTUAR.”
(Archbishop Tait.)

“Deanery, Carlisle,
“January 20th, 1875.

“Dear Madam,

“If I had a hundred signatures you should have them all!