Read NO ANIMAL FOOD: CHAPTER IV of No Animal Food and Nutrition and Diet with Vegetable Recipes , free online book, by Rupert H. Wheldon, on ReadCentral.com.

THE AESTHETIC POINT OF VIEW

St. Paul tells us to think on whatsoever things are pure and lovely (Phil. iv., 8). The implication is that we should love and worship beauty. We should seek to surround ourselves by beautiful objects and avoid that which is degrading and ugly.

Let us make some comparisons. Look at a collection of luscious fruits filling the air with perfume, and pleasing the eye with a harmony of colour, and then look at the gruesome array of skinned carcasses displayed in a butcher’s shop; which is the more beautiful? Look at the work of the husbandman, tilling the soil, pruning the trees, gathering in the rich harvest of golden fruit, and then look at the work of the cowboy, branding, castrating, terrifying, butchering helpless animals; which is the more beautiful? Surely no one would say a corpse was a beautiful object. Picture it (after the axe has battered the skull, or the knife has found the heart, and the victim has at last ceased its dying groans and struggles), with its ghastly staring eyes, its blood-stained head or throat where the sharp steel pierced into the quivering flesh; picture it when the body is opened emitting a sickening odour and the reeking entrails fall in a heap on the gore-splashed floor; picture this sight and ask whether it is not the epitome of ugliness, and in direct opposition to the most elementary sense of beauty.

Moreover, what effect has the work of a slayer of animals upon his personal character and refinement? Can anyone imagine a sensitive-minded, finely-wrought aesthetic nature doing anything else than revolt against the cold-blooded murdering of terrorised animals? It is significant that in some of the States of America butchers are not allowed to sit on a jury during a murder trial. Physiognomically the slaughterman carries his trade-mark legibly enough. The butcher does not usually exhibit those facial traits which distinguish a person who is naturally sympathetic and of an aesthetic temperament; on the contrary, the butcher’s face and manner generally bear evidence of a life spent amid scenes of gory horror and violence; of a task which involves torture and death.

A plate of cereal served with fruit-juice pleases the eye and imagination, but a plate smeared with blood and laden with dead flesh becomes disgusting and repulsive the moment we consider it in that light. Cooking may disguise the appearance but cannot alter the reality of the decaying corpse; and to cook blood and give it another name (gravy) may be an artifice to please the palate, but it is blood, (blood that once coursed through the body of a highly sensitive and nervous being), just the same. Surely a person whose olfactory nerves have not been blunted prefers the delicate aroma of ripe fruit to the sickly smell of mortifying flesh, or fried eggs and bacon!

Notice how young children, whose taste is more or less unperverted, relish ripe fruits and nuts and clean tasting things in general. Man, before he has become thoroughly accustomed to an unnatural diet, before his taste has been perverted and he has acquired by habit a liking for unwholesome and unnatural food, has a healthy appetite for Nature’s sun-cooked seeds and berries of all kinds. Now true refinement can only exist where the senses are uncorrupted by addiction to deleterious habits, and the nervous system by which the senses act will remain healthy only so long as it is built up by pure and natural foods; hence it is only while man is nourished by those foods desired by his unperverted appetite that he may be said to possess true refinement. Power of intellect has nothing whatever to do necessarily with the aesthetic instinct. A man may possess vast learning and yet be a boor. Refinement is not learnt as a boy learns algebra. Refinement comes from living a refined life, as good deeds come from a good man. The nearer we live according to Nature’s plan, and in harmony with Her, the healthier we become physically and mentally. We do not look for refinement in the obese, red-faced, phlegmatic, gluttonous sensualists who often pass as gentlemen because they possess money or rank, but in those who live simply, satisfying the simple requirements of the body, and finding happiness in a life of well-directed toil.

The taste of young children is often cited by vegetarians to demonstrate the liking of an unsophisticated palate, but the primitive instinct is not wholly atrophied in man. Before man became a tool-using animal, he must have depended for direction upon what is commonly termed instinct in the selection of a diet most suitable to his nature. No one can doubt, judging by the way undomesticated animals seek their food with unerring certainty as to its suitability, but that instinct is a trustworthy guide. Granting that man could, in a state of absolute savagery, and before he had discovered the use of fire or of tools, depend upon instinct alone, and in so doing live healthily, cannot what yet remains of instinct be of some value among civilized beings? Is not man, even now, in spite of his abused and corrupted senses, when he sees luscious fruits hanging within his reach, tempted to pluck them, and does he not eat them with relish? But when he sees the grazing ox, or the wallowing hog, do similar gustatory desires affect him? Or when he sees these animals lying dead, or when skinned and cut up in small pieces, does this same natural instinct stimulate him to steal and eat this food as it stimulates a boy to steal apples and nuts from an orchard and eat them surreptitiously beneath the hedge or behind the haystack?

Very different is it with true carnivora. The gorge of a cat, for instance, will rise at the smell of a mouse, or a piece of raw flesh, but not at the aroma of fruit. If a man could take delight in pouncing upon a bird, tear its still living body apart with his teeth, sucking the warm blood, one might infer that Nature had provided him with carnivorous instinct, but the very thought of doing such a thing makes him shudder. On the other hand, a bunch of luscious grapes makes his ‘mouth water,’ and even in the absence of hunger he will eat fruit to gratify taste. A table spread with fruits and nuts and decorated with flowers is artistic; the same table laden with decaying flesh and blood, and maybe entrails, is not only inartistic it is disgusting.

Those who believe in an all-wise Creator can hardly suppose He would have so made our body as to make it necessary daily to perform acts of violence that are an outrage to our sympathies, repulsive to our finer feelings, and brutalising and degrading in every detail. To possess fine feelings without the means to satisfy them is as bad as to possess hunger without a stomach. If it be necessary and a part of the Divine Wisdom that we should degrade ourselves to the level of beasts of prey, then the humanitarian sentiment and the aesthetic instinct are wrong and should be displaced by callousness, and the endeavour to cultivate a feeling of enjoyment in that which to all the organs of sense in a person of intelligence and religious feeling is ugly and repulsive. But no normally-minded person can think that this is so. It would be contrary to all the ethical and aesthetic teachings of every religion, and antagonistic to the feelings of all who have evolved to the possession of a conscience and the power to distinguish the beautiful from the base.

When one accustomed to an omnivorous diet adopts a vegetarian regime, a steadily growing refinement in taste and smell is experienced. Delicate and subtle flavours, hitherto unnoticed, especially if the habit of thorough mastication be practised, soon convince the neophyte that a vegetarian is by no means denied the pleasure of gustatory enjoyment. Further, not only are these senses better attuned and refined, but the mind also undergoes a similar exaltation. Thoreau, the transcendentalist, wrote: ’I believe that every man who has ever been earnest to preserve his higher or poetic faculties in the best condition, has been particularly inclined to abstain from animal food, and from much food of any kind.’