Chapter XXIII: Chesterfield. 1694-1773

Notwithstanding his strange self-deception as to the “general order of nature,” by which he attempted (sincerely we presume) to silence the better promptings of conscience, the remarkably strong feeling expressed by Lord Chesterfield gives him some right to notice here. His early _instinctive_ aversion for the food which is the product of torture and murder is much better founded, we shall be apt to believe, than the fallacious sophism by which he seems eventually to have succeeded in stifling the voices of Nature and Reason in seeking refuge under the shelter of a superficial philosophy. At all events his example is a forcible illustration of Seneca’s observation that the better feelings of the young need only to be evoked by a proper education to conduct them to a true morality and religion.[155]

As it is we have to lament that he had not the greater light (of science) of the present time, if, indeed, the “deceitfulness of riches” would not have been for him, as for the mass of the rich or fashionable world, the shipwreck of just and rational feeling.

Philip Dormer, Earl of Chesterfield, succeeded to the family title in 1726. High in favour with the new king--George II.--he received the appointment of Ambassador-extraordinary to the Court of Holland in 1728, and amongst other honours that of the knighthood of the Garter. In 1745 he was appointed Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, in which post, during his brief rule, he seemed to have governed with more success than some of his predecessors or successors. He was soon afterwards a Secretary of State: ill-health obliged him to relinquish this office after a short tenure. He wrote papers for _The World_--the popular periodical of the time--besides some poetical pieces, but he is chiefly known as an author by his celebrated _Letters to his Son_, which long served as the text-book of polite society. It contains some remarks in regard to the relations of the sexes scarcely consonant with the custom, or at least with the outward code of sexual morals of the present day. His sentiments upon the subject in question are as follow:--

“I remember, when I was a young man at the University, being so
much affected with that very pathetic speech which Ovid puts into
the mouth of Pythagoras against the eating of the flesh of animals,
that it was some time before I could bring myself to our college
mutton again, with some inward doubt whether I was not making
myself an accomplice to a murder. My scruples remained unreconciled
to the committing of so horrid a meal, till upon serious reflection
I became convinced of its legality[156] from the general order of
Nature which has instituted the universal preying [of the stronger]
upon the weaker as one of her first principles: though to me it has
ever appeared an incomprehensible mystery that she, who could not
be restrained by any want of materials from furnishing supplies for
the support of her numerous offspring, should lay them under the
necessity of devouring one another.[157]

“I know not whether it is from the clergy having looked upon this
subject as too trivial for their notice, that we find them more
silent upon it than could be wished; for as slaughter is at present
no branch of the priesthood, it is to be presumed that they have as
much compassion as other men. The _Spectator_ has exclaimed against
the cruelty of roasting lobsters alive, and of whipping pigs to
death, but the misfortune is the writings of an Addison are seldom
read by cooks and butchers. As to the _thinking_ part of mankind,
it has always been convinced, I believe, that however conformable
to the _general_ rule of nature our devouring animals may be,
we are nevertheless under indelible obligation to prevent their
suffering any degree of pain more than is absolutely unavoidable.

“But this conviction lies in such heads that I fear _not one
poor creature in a million has ever fared the better for it_,
and, I believe, never will: since people of condition, the only
source from whence [effectual] pity is to flow, are so far from
inculcating it to those beneath them, that a very few years ago
they suffered themselves to be entertained at a public theatre
by the performances of an unhappy company of animals who could
only have been made actors by the utmost energy of whipcord and
starving.”[158]

The writer might have instanced still more frightful results of this insensibility on the part of the influential classes of the community: nor indeed, the better few always excepted, were he living now could he present a much more favourable picture of the morals (in this the most important department of them) of the ruling sections of society.

Ritson supplements the virtual adhesion of Lord Chesterfield to the principles of Humanity, with some remarks of Sir W. Jones, the eminent Orientalist, who (protesting against the selfish callousness of “Sportsmen” and even of “Naturalists” in the infliction of pain) writes: “I shall never forget the couplet of Ferdusi[159] for which Sadi,[160] who cites it with applause, pours blessings on his departed spirit:--

“Ah! spare yon emmet, rich in hoarded grain:
He lives with pleasure and he dies with pain.”

To which creditable expression of feeling we would append a word of astonishment at that very common inconsistency, and failure in elementary logic, which permits men--while easily and hyperbolically commiserating the fate of an emmet, a beetle, or a worm--to ignore the necessarily infinitely greater sufferings of the highly-organised victims of the _Table_.”