Voices for the Speechless Selections for Schools and Private Reading — Reading Notes

This was the work of Jubal: he began The pastoral life, and, sire of joys to be, Spread the sweet ties that bind the family O'er dear dumb souls that thrilled at man's caress, And shared his pain with patient helpfulness.

GEORGE ELIOT: _Legend of Jubal_.

Nor must we childishly feel contempt for the study of the lower animals, since in all nature's work there is something wonderful. And if any one thinks the study of other animals despicable, he must despise the study of his own nature.

Thus born alike, from virtue first began The diff'rence that distinguished man from man: He claimed no title from descent of blood; But that which made him noble made him good.

Little by little the time goes by-- Short if you sing through it, long if you sigh. Little by little--an hour, a day, Gone with the years that have vanished away; Little by little the race is run, Trouble and waiting and toil are done!

Little by little the skies grow clear; Little by little the sun comes near; Little by little the days smile out Gladder and brighter on pain and doubt; Little by little the seed we sow Into a beautiful yield will grow.

Little by little the world grows strong, Fighting the battle of Right and Wrong: Little by little the Wrong gives way, Little by little the Right has sway; Little by little all longing souls Struggle up nearer the shining goals!

Little by little the good in men Blossoms to beauty for human ken; Little by little the angels see Prophecies better of good to be; Little by little the God of all Lifts the world nearer the pleading call.

_Cincinnati Humane Appeal_.

Life may be given in many ways And loyalty to truth be sealed As bravely in the closet as the field, So generous is fate; But then to stand beside her, When craven churls deride her, To front a lie in arms, and not to yield, This shows, methinks, God's plan And measure of a stalwart man, Limbed like the old heroic breeds, Who stands self-poised on manhood's solid earth, Not forced to frame excuses for his birth, Fed from within with all the strength he needs.

ANIMALS AND HUMAN SPEECH.

Animals have much more capacity to understand human speech than is generally supposed. The Hindoos invariably talk to their elephants, and it is amazing how much the latter comprehend. The Arabs govern their camels with a few cries, and my associates in the African desert were always amused whenever I addressed a remark to the big dromedary who was my property for two months; yet at the end of that time the beast evidently knew the meaning of a number of simple sentences. Some years ago, seeing the hippopotamus in Barnum's museum looking very stolid and dejected, I spoke to him in English, but he did not even open his eyes. Then I went to the opposite corner of the cage, and said in Arabic, "I know you; come here to me." He instantly turned his head toward me; I repeated the words, and thereupon he came to the corner where I was standing, pressed his huge, ungainly head against the bars of the cage, and looked in my face with a touch of delight while I stroked his muzzle. I have two or three times found a lion who recognized the same language, and the expression of his eyes, for an instant, seemed positively human.

And I, contented with a humble theme, Have poured my stream of panegyric down The vale of Nature, where it creeps and winds Among her lovely works, with a secure And unambitious course, reflecting clear If not the virtues, yet the worth, of brutes. And I am recompensed, and deem the toils Of poetry not lost, if verse of mine May stand between an animal and woe, And teach one tyrant pity for his drudge.

LEARN FROM THE CREATURES.

See him from Nature, rising slow to Art! To copy Instinct, that was Reason's part; Thus then to man the voice of Nature spake:-- "Go, from the creatures thy instructions take; Learn from the birds what food the thickets yield; Learn from the beasts the physic of the field; Thy arts of building from the bee receive; Learn of the mole to plough, the worm to weave; Learn of the little nautilus to sail, Spread the thin oar, and catch the driving gale. Here, too, all forms of social union find, And hence let reason, late, instruct mankind: Here subterranean works and cities see; There towns aerial on the waving tree. Learn each small people's genius, policies, The Ant's republic, and the realm of Bees: How those in common all their wealth bestow, And Anarchy without confusion know; And these forever, though a monarch reign, Their sep'rate cells and properties maintain. Mark what unvaryed laws preserve each state, Laws wise as Nature, and as fixed as Fate. In fine, thy Reason finer webs shall draw, Entangle Justice in her net of Law, And Right, too rigid, harden into Wrong; Still for the strong too weak, the weak too strong. Yet go! and thus o'er all the creatures sway, Thus let the wiser make the rest obey; And, for those Arts mere Instinct could afford, Be crowned as Monarchs, or as God adored."

Granted that any practice causes more pain to animals than it gives pleasure to man; is that practice moral or immoral? And if exactly in proportion as human beings raise their heads out of the slough of selfishness, they do not answer "immoral," let the morality of the principle of utility be forever condemned.

WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN.

It might have been that the sky was green, and the grass serenely blue; It might have been that grapes on thorns and figs on thistles grew; It might have been that rainbows gleamed before the showers came; It might have been that lambs were fierce and bears and tigers tame; It might have been that cold would melt and summer heat would freeze; It might have been that ships at sea would sail against the breeze-- And there may be worlds unknown, dear, where we would find the change From all that we have seen or heard, to others just as strange-- But it never could be wise, dear, in haste to act or speak; It never could be noble to harm the poor and weak; It never could be kind, dear, to give a needless pain; It never could be honest, dear, to sin for greed or gain; And there could not be a world, dear, while God is true above, Where right and wrong were governed by any law but love.

Sweet was the sound, when oft at evening's close, Up yonder hill the village murmur rose; There as I passed with careless steps and slow, The mingling notes came softening from below; The swain responsive to the milkmaid sung: _The sober herd that lowed to meet their young; The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool:_ The playful children just let loose from school; _The watch-dog's voice that bayed the whispering wind_, And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind,-- These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, And filled each pause the nightingale had made.

The Buddhist duty of universal love enfolds in its embraces not only the brethren and sisters of the new faith, not only our neighbors, _but every thing that has life_.

As a mother, even at the risk of her own life, protects her son, her only son, so let a man _cultivate good-will without measure toward all beings_. Let him cultivate good-will without measure, unhindered love and friendliness toward the whole world, above, below, around. Standing, walking, sitting, or lying, let him be firm in this mind so long as he is awake; this state of heart, they say, is the best in the world.

He who lives pure in thought, free from malice, contented, leading a holy life, _feeling tenderly for all creatures_, speaking wisely and kindly, humbly and sincerely, has the Deity ever in his breast. The Eternal makes not his abode within the breast of that man who covets another's wealth, who _injures living creatures_, who is proud of his iniquity, whose mind is evil.

FROM THE ASOKA INSCRIPTIONS.

The discontinuance of the murder of human beings and of cruelty to animals, respect for parents, obedience to father and mother, obedience to holy elders, these are good deeds.--_No. IV._

And now the joyful chorus resounds again and again that henceforward not a single animal shall be put to death.--_No. V._

In a summary of the inscriptions by Arthur Lillie, in "Buddhism and Early Buddhism," he says, they require also, for the benefit of both beast and men, "that gardens be cultivated everywhere of healing shrubs and herbs."

[The inscriptions were written on "rocks, temples, and monuments" in India for the instruction of the people, by order of the Emperor Asoka, who lived about 250 years before Christ.]

God is within this universe, and yet outside this universe; whoever beholds all living creatures as in Him, and Him the universal Spirit, as in all, henceforth regards no creature with contempt.

_Quoted by_ REV. J. E. CARPENTER.

It fortifies my soul to know That though I perish, truth is so, That howsoe'er I stray and range, Whate'er I do, thou dost not change. I steadier step when I recall That, if I slip, thou dost not fall.

We, dying, fondly hope the life immortal To win at last; Yet all that live must through death's dreary portal At length have passed.

And from the hope which shines so bright above us, My spirit turns, And for the lowlier ones, that serve and love us, Half sadly yearns.

Never a bird its glad way safely winging Through those blest skies? Never, through pauses in the joyful singing, Its notes to rise?

Not one of those who toil's severest burdens So meekly bear, To find at last of faithful labor's guerdons An humble share?

Ah, well! I need not question; gladly rather, I'll trust in all-- Assured that not without our Heavenly "Father" The sparrows fall.

And if He foldeth in a sleep eternal Their wings to rest; Or waketh them to fly the skies supernal-- He knoweth best?

God is the causer of pleasure and light, _maker of grass for the cattle_, and of fruitful trees for man, _causing the fish to live in the river and the birds to fill the air_, lying awake when all men sleep, to seek out the good of His creatures.

_Quoted by_ REV. J. E. CARPENTER.

There is a higher consanguinity than that of the blood which runs through our veins,--that of the blood which makes our hearts beat with the same indignation and the same joy. And there is a higher nationality than that of being governed by the same imperial dynasty,--that of our common allegiance to the Father and Ruler of all mankind.

TO ANTHONY ASHLEY COOPER, SEVENTH EARL OF SHAFTESBURY, K. G., APRIL 13, 1880.

For eighty years! Many will count them over, But none but He who knoweth all may guess What those long years have held of high endeavor, Of world-wide blessing and of blessedness.

For eighty years the champion of the right Of hapless child neglected and forlorn; Of maniac dungeoned in his double night; Of woman overtasked and labor-worn;

Of homeless boy, in streets with peril rife; Of workman, sickened in his airless den; Of Indian parching for the streams of life; Of negro slave in bond of cruel men.

O Friend of all the friendless 'neath the sun, Whose hand hath wiped away a thousand tears, Whose fervent lips and clear strong brain have done God's holy service, lo! these eighty years,--

How meet it seems thy grand and vigorous age Should find beyond man's race fresh pangs to spare, And for the wronged and tortured brutes engage In yet fresh labors and ungrudging care!

Oh, tarry long amongst us! Live, we pray, Hasten not yet to hear thy Lord's "Well done!" Let this world still seem better while it may Contain one soul like thine amid its throng.

Whilst thou art here our inmost hearts confess, Truth spake the kingly seer of old who said,-- "Found in the way of God and righteousness, A crown of glory is the hoary head."

Pain, terror, mortal agonies which scare Thy heart in man, to brutes thou wilt not spare. Are these less sad and real? Pain in man Bears the high mission of the flail and fear; In brutes 'tis purely piteous.

TO LYDIA MARIA CHILD.

Who knows thy love most royal power, With largess free and brave, Which crowns the helper of the poor, The suffering and the slave.

Yet springs as freely and as warm, To greet the near and small, The prosy neighbor at the farm, The squirrel on the wall.

It is the simple idea of dealing with a living, conscious, sensitive, and intelligent creature as if it were dead and senseless matter, against which the whole spirit of true humanity revolts. It is the notion of such absolute despotism as shall justify, not merely taking life, but converting the entire existence of the animal into a misfortune which we denounce as a misconception of the relations between the higher and lower creatures. A hundred years ago had physiologists frankly avowed that they recognized no claims on the part of the brutes which should stop them from torturing them, they would have been only on a level with their contemporaries. But to-day they are behind the age.

As I have said ere now, the battle of Mercy, like that of Freedom,

"Once begun, Though often lost, is always won."

From yon blue heavens above us bent The grand old gardener and his wife Smile at the claims of long descent. Howe'er it be, it seems to me 'Tis only noble to be good; Kind hearts are more than coronets, And simple faith than Norman blood.

Yes, any act of mercy, even to the humblest and lowliest of God's creatures, is an act that brings us near to God. Although "the mercy of God," as the Psalmist says, "reaches to the heavens, although his judgments are like the great deep," yet still, as the Psalmist adds, it is the same mercy, the same justice as that which we know in ourselves. "Thou preservest both man and beast; how exalted is thy mercy, O Lord; therefore the children of men take refuge under the shadow of thy wings." That mercy which we see in the complex arrangements of the animal creation, extending down to the minutest portions of their frames--that same Divine mercy it is which we are bid to imitate. He whose soul burns with indignation against the brutal ruffian who misuses the poor, helpless, suffering horse, or dog, or ass, or bird, or worm, shares for the moment that Divine companion wrath which burns against the oppressors of the weak and defenceless everywhere. He who puts forth his hand to save from ill treatment, or add to the happiness of any of those dumb creatures, has opened his heart to that Divine compassion which our Heavenly Father has shown to the whole range of created things--which our blessed Saviour has shown to the human race, his own peculiar charge, by living and dying for us. "Be ye merciful" to dumb animals, for ye have a common nature with them. Be ye merciful, for the worst part of the nature of brutes is to be unmerciful. Be ye merciful, for ye are raised far above them, to be their appointed lords and guardians. Be ye merciful, for ye are made in the image of him who is All-Merciful and All-Compassionate.

He beheld the poor man's need; Bound his wounds, and with all speed Set him on his own good steed, And brought him to the inn.

When our Judge shall reappear, Thinkest thou this man will hear, Wherefore didst thou interfere With what concerned not thee?

No! the words of Christ will run "Whatsoever thou hast done To the poor and suffering one That hast thou done to me."

Thus, when Christianity announced its fundamental idea of love, it, by an immovable logic, enveloped all things in that affection, and every dumb brute of the street comes within the colored curtains of the sanctuary. The Humane Society is a branch of God's Church, and we Christian church-members are all members of all such associations, so far as we are intelligent members of the Church of Christ. Love does not mean love of me or you, but it means love always and for all.

If children at school can be made to understand how it is just and noble to be humane even to what we term inferior animals, it will do much to give them a higher character and tone through life. There is nothing meaner than barbarous and cruel treatment of the dumb creatures, who cannot answer us or resent the misery which is so often needlessly inflicted upon them.

MEMBERSHIP OF THE CHURCH.

Love and charity being the basis of Christianity, it is as much a question for the Church to ask, when a person wishes to be admitted into her bosom, "Are you kind to animals?" as it is to ask, "Do you believe in such or such a doctrine?" Certainly the question would be pertinent to Christian life and consonant with the fundamental and distinguishing principle of the Christian religion; and the mere asking of it at so solemn a juncture could not but do much to assimilate and draw closer the heart and life of the novitiate to Him who sees every sparrow that falls.

The power of feeling for animals, realizing their wants and making their pains our own, is one which is most irregularly shown by human beings. A Timon may have it, and a Howard be devoid of it. A rough shepherd's heart may overflow with it, and that of an exquisite fine gentleman and distinguished man of science may be as utterly without it as the nether millstone. One thing I think must be clear: till man has learnt to feel for all his sentient fellow-creatures, whether in human or in brutal form, of his own class and sex and country, or of another, he has not yet ascended the first step towards true civilization nor applied the first lesson from the love of God.

Nay, on the strength of that same element of self-sacrifice, I will not grudge the epithet "heroic" which my revered friend Darwin justly applies to the poor little monkey who once in his life did that which was above his duty; who lived in continual terror of the great baboon, and yet, when the brute had sprung upon his friend the keeper, and was tearing out his throat, conquered his fear by love, and, at the risk of instant death, sprung in turn upon his dreaded enemy, and hit and shrieked until help arrived.

The effect of the barbarous treatment of inferior creatures on the minds of those who practise it is still more deplorable than its effects upon the animals themselves. The man who kicks dumb brutes kicks brutality into his own heart. He who can see the wistful imploring eyes of half-starved creatures without making earnest efforts to relieve them, is on the road to lose his manhood, if he has not already lost it. And the boy who delights in torturing frogs or insects, or robbing birds'-nests, or dogging cattle and hogs wantonly and cruelly, can awaken no hope of an honorable after life.

Oh may I join the choir invisible Of those immortal dead who live again In minds made better by their presence: live In pulses stirred to generosity: In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn For miserable aims that end with self; In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars, And with their mild persistence urge men's search To vaster issues.

The sense of death is most in apprehension; And the poor beetle that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies.

_Measure for Measure_, Act 3, Sc. 1.