About the Work
An Essay on Humanity to Animals is a philosophical and theological treatise by Thomas Young, a Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, published in London. The work is structured as a systematic moral argument for the humane treatment of animals, grounded in scripture, natural reason, and appeals to sentiment. Young opens with an “Ode to Humanity” written by his friend The Rev. C. Hoyle of Trinity College, which serves in place of a preface and establishes the work’s devotional and moral register. The book proceeds through nine chapters that move from general principles to specific practices, examining cruelty in children’s sports, adult amusements, hunting and fishing, the treatment of horses, dietary cruelties, beekeeping, miscellaneous abuses, and finally offering guidance for those who have already begun to cultivate humane dispositions.
The work belongs to a late-eighteenth-century tradition of moral reform literature, engaging with questions of animal welfare that were only beginning to receive sustained philosophical attention. Young writes self-consciously as an advocate for an unpopular cause, acknowledging that he exposes himself to ridicule by publishing on a subject many will find “whimsical and mean.” The book is neither a systematic philosophy nor a mere collection of anecdotes, but rather a hybrid work that combines biblical exegesis, moral reasoning, natural history observations, and affecting narratives of animal suffering and fidelity. Young draws on a wide range of sources, including scripture, classical and contemporary authors, scientific publications such as the Philosophical Transactions, and periodicals like the Gentleman’s Magazine, weaving these materials into a sustained argument that aims to move both the conscience and the heart.
Context
Young’s essay emerges from a period of intense moral and social reflection in late-eighteenth-century Britain. The century had witnessed growing concern for the welfare of prisoners, the poor, and enslaved people, and Young explicitly situates his work within this broader movement of humanitarian reform. He notes with satisfaction that his countrymen’s exertions for prisoners, their charitable institutions, their efforts toward the abolition of the slave-trade, and their detestation of religious persecution all demonstrate that the age has not been “retrograde in Humanity.” His argument that humanity to animals connects importantly with humanity to mankind reflects a conviction that moral sensibilities form a coherent whole, and that cruelty in one sphere inevitably corrupts character in others.
The work also engages with contemporary intellectual currents. Young cites Hogarth’s Four Stages of Cruelty as evidence for his claim that childhood barbarity to animals leads to adult criminality, drawing on the popular moral pedagogy of the period. He responds to arguments advanced in the Memoirs of the Literary and Philosophical Society of Manchester, indicating an active engagement with the philosophical debates of his day. His discussion of anatomical experiments references the Philosophical Transactions and the British Critick, while his treatment of beekeeping methods engages with practical agricultural literature, including the work of Mr. Wildman. The book thus participates in multiple contemporary conversations: philosophical debates about the moral status of animals, practical discussions of agricultural and domestic practices, and broader cultural anxieties about the direction of British society.
Young’s theological framework reflects the scriptural Christianity of his time, but he is careful to ground his arguments in multiple sources of authority. He appeals to the “Light of Nature” as well as to revelation, arguing that the world’s abundant provision for animal gratification shows the Creator wills their happiness. This natural theology approach allows him to address readers who might not share his specific religious commitments while also providing the strongest possible scriptural warrant for his conclusions. His engagement with the Hebrew Bible, particularly the Mosaic law, demonstrates a sophisticated hermeneutical method that distinguishes between the literal precepts and their underlying moral purposes.
Structure of the Book
The book is organized into nine chapters that proceed from general principles to specific applications and finally to practical guidance for moral progress. Chapter I presents a “General Essay on Humanity and Cruelty to Animals,” establishing the work’s foundational arguments from moral psychology, natural reason, and scripture. Young examines the tendency of cruelty to animals to harden the heart against human suffering, the evidence from nature that animals experience pleasure and pain and that the Creator wills their happiness, and the scriptural precepts from Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy that inculcate humane treatment of animals.
Chapters II and III address cruelty in sports, first those peculiar to children and then those common to men and boys. Young examines practices such as throwing at cocks, cock-fighting, and bull-baiting, arguing that these customs corrupt character and have no redeeming value. He notes with satisfaction that many of these savage customs have recently declined, attributing the change principally to the efforts of magistrates. Chapter IV takes up hunting, shooting, and fishing for sport, which Young acknowledges he dreaded writing because he must contend with custom, fashion, inclination, and even the authority of physicians, moralists, legislators, and divines who recommend or practice these sports.
Chapter V is devoted to cruelty to horses, justified by the horse’s services, noble qualities, and the injuries it suffers. Young discusses overwork, mutilation through docking tails and cropping ears, and the cruelties of farriery, including a narrative from the Adventurer told from a horse’s perspective. Chapter VI addresses cruelty to animals in the article of eating, examining practices such as cramming fowls, crimping fish, bleeding calves, and other refinements of cruelty that luxury has introduced. Chapter VII considers the killing of bees for honey, offering alternatives to the destructive methods commonly practiced and reflecting on the cost in lives that sweetening our dishes entails.
Chapter VIII presents miscellaneous cruelties to animals, beginning with the dog, “the most docile and sagacious of animals,” and including anatomical experiments, the stripping of geese for feathers, caging and taming wild creatures, and dancing bears. The chapter concludes with observations on prejudices and vulgar errors that lead to the destruction of animals, such as the false belief that toads, serpents, and lizards are poisonous or that hedge-hogs suck cows. Chapter IX addresses those who have made some progress in humanity, offering guidance for further moral development and examining practices such as eating oysters, lobsters, and larks that a person of refined sensibility will abstain from.
Inside the Book
The Title Page and Front Matter
The book opens with a title page announcing An Essay on Humanity to Animals, written by Thomas Young, A.M., a Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge. The page bears an epigraph, partially obscured, reading “Ruin hath taught me to think,” alongside the word “MERCY,” with a reference to St. Matthew. The publication details list London booksellers Cadell, Jun. and W. Davies in the Strand, along with W.H. Lunn and J. Deighton. Following the title page, a table of contents outlines the work’s nine chapters, which proceed from a general essay on humanity and cruelty to animals, through specific examinations of cruel sports among children and men, hunting and fishing for sport, cruelty to horses, cruelty in the article of eating, the killing of bees for honey, miscellaneous cruelties, and finally an address to those who have already made progress in humanity.
Ode to Humanity
Instead of a conventional preface, Young presents an “Ode to Humanity,” composed at his request by his friend, The Rev. C. Hoyle of Trinity College, Cambridge. The ode personifies Humanity as a heavenly figure, the “Friend of the human race,” whose earthly name is HUMANITY. It invokes divine aid to refine human hearts with pity, recalling the moment of creation when God granted man dominion over all living things, charging him to act as their protector. The poem then laments the reality of man’s cruelty, cataloguing the “faithless trimmer” who fishes with hooks fixed by “hands of blood,” fish dying in “hours of lengthen’d agony,” birds wounded or confined to cages, the patient ass inured to pain, the confined bull torn by dogs, and the noble steed worn down by toil. These are called “sportive deeds, O Man!” and the ode prays that Humanity may subdue the “tyrant pride of power,” disarm rage, and bind mercy to the “Brutal kind.” It concludes by describing Humanity’s power to calm war, save sailors, raise the fallen, spare captives, inspire statesmen, and ultimately lead the soul to God.
Chapter I: General Essay on Humanity and Cruelty to Animals
Young begins his first chapter by acknowledging that he exposes himself to ridicule in publishing on such a subject, which many will find whimsical and mean. He hopes, however, that the reflecting and humane will judge differently, noting his countrymen’s exertions for prisoners, the poor, charitable institutions, the abolition of the slave-trade, and their detestation of religious persecution—all evidence that the century has not been “retrograde in Humanity.” He asserts that humanity to animals connects importantly with humanity to mankind.
His first argument is that cruelty to animals tends to render practitioners cruel toward their own species. Every act of cruelty generates a cruel disposition, which will not discriminate between man and beast. Young believes that many executed criminals, especially murderers, could trace their wickedness back to childhood barbarity toward animals. He cites Hogarth’s Four Stages of Cruelty, whose hero begins with barbarous treatment of animals and concludes with murder, the gallows, and dissection. He also mentions the popular opinion that English law rejects butchers’ evidence because they are rendered less humane—calling this likely a “vulgar error,” but noting it shows general sentiment.
His second argument is drawn from the Light of Nature. Animals perceive pleasure and pain, and the world’s abundant provision for their gratification shows that the Creator wills their happiness. This makes humanity agreeable and cruelty contrary to His will, and it forms the foundation of the Rights of Animals independent of scripture.
His third argument comes from scripture, which he calls the strongest possible. Though delivered to the Jews, Christians should regard these as pertinent precepts. He cites Exodus 20:10, which grants Sabbath rest for the ox and ass; Exodus 23:19, which forbids seething a kid in its mother’s milk—a prohibition of an idolatrous custom that also inculcates refined humanity; and Leviticus 22:26-28, which forbids killing a cow and her young on the same day, preventing the mother’s anguish. He then begins the narrative of Numbers 22:28-35, concerning Balaam’s ass speaking.
The Narrative of Balaam and the Ass
The passage opens with Balaam addressing his ass, saying, “because thou hast mocked me: I would there were a sword in my hand; for now would I kill thee.” The ass replies, asking whether she is not his ass upon which he has ridden since she became his, and whether she was ever wont to behave so toward him. Balaam answers “Nay.” The Lord then opens Balaam’s eyes, and he sees the angel of the Lord standing in the way with a drawn sword; he bows and falls flat on his face. The angel asks why Balaam has smitten his ass three times, explaining that the angel went out to withstand Balaam because his way is perverse. The angel states that the ass saw him and turned aside three times, and had she not done so, the angel would have slain Balaam but saved the ass alive. Balaam confesses he has sinned, not knowing the angel stood against him, and offers to return if it displeases the angel.
Young identifies this as the scripture passage that inculcates humanity to animals in the strongest and most striking manner. It presents a miracle with the immediate agency of the Almighty, since “God opened the mouth of the ass.” The words that follow convey a rebuke of cruelty to animals as authoritative as if delivered from Mount Sinai. Young considers them the general expostulation, prompted by the Creator, of injured animals against their unjust and tyrannic masters, calling it eloquent and pathetic. From the angel’s declaration that he would have slain Balaam and saved the ass alive, Young learns that the life of creatures is dear to God. From the stern demand “wherefore hast thou smitten thine ass these three times?” he judges that Balaam was not held guiltless for smiting without good cause.
Young then applies this to daily life, noting that in the streets and highways men commit the same offence as Balaam, generally greater in degree since their anger is less justifiable. Men are ungratefully forgetful of their horses’ services, forgetful that horses have senses that may be startled by sudden objects and lack human reason to quiet their apprehensions. Such men, in irrational anger, punish horses for a single start or stumble, some crying out like Balaam for a sword to kill. Though such men meet not Balaam’s rebuke, they should recollect that “many a crime deem’d innocent on earth, Is register’d in heaven.”
Further Scriptural Precepts
Young turns to Deuteronomy xxii. 6-7, concerning the bird’s nest. This precept, which instructs letting the dam go while taking the young or eggs, tended to inculcate humanity by accustoming the boy and passenger to spare animal life when it is in their hands, restraining them from the aggravated cruelty of killing the mother-bird with her progeny while hatching. Young insists that it does not countenance taking eggs or young for sport or amusement, nor does it enjoin taking them for any purpose; rather, it says that if one is resolved to take them, “yet in any wise let the dam go.”
He then examines Deuteronomy xxv. 4, concerning the muzzling of the ox. The general spirit of this law reminds the husbandman to permit his horse, ox, and ass to share reasonably in the blessings their service procures. Literally, it referenced cruelties practised among the Jews or neighbouring nations. Anciently in Judea and other countries, oxen trod out corn; some muzzled them, daubed their mouths with dung, hung wooden instruments about their necks, put sharp pricks in their mouths, kept them without drink, or covered the corn with skins. Young notes that the ox’s appetite would be strongly excited during treading, and restraint would cause uneasiness, especially as this was a season of feasting for the husbandman. He asks whether a man of common humanity would not act agreeably to the law even without it being delivered, and whether one who would not so act could feel gratitude, generosity, or laudable joy.
The law had further importance: the Jew hearing to be kind to oxen would reflect that it was more his duty to be kind to servants and labourers. St. Paul, in 1 Corinthians ix. 8, argues concerning kindness to those labouring in the ministry, citing the law of Moses about not muzzling the ox and asking, “Doth God take care for oxen? Or saith he it altogether for our sakes?” Young insists this does not mean God takes no care for oxen, which would contradict scripture; rather, God does not take so much care for oxen as for men. A footnote cites St. Matthew x. 29 and 31 concerning sparrows, concluding that animals are of some value in God’s sight.
Athenian Practice and Population
Young then discusses the practice among the Athenians and other ancient nations, where it was unlawful to kill ploughing and labouring oxen for sacrifice or food. He doubts whether it would not have been for mankind’s honour and advantage if this sentiment had continued, wondering whether the lost food would be compensated by increased humanity. He acknowledges that a country’s strength and happiness depend on populousness, which depends on provisions, and that happiness is pretty equally distributed among the orders of civil society. Yet, considering that happiness depends greatly on the virtue of inhabitants, and that this life’s happiness is not the sole object of communities, he thinks it not ridiculous to ask whether a wise politician’s object should be the greatest number of virtuous inhabitants, not inhabitants of any sort. He asks whether population cannot exist in its highest degree without numerous manufacturers, which are less favourable than agricultural employments to the virtue and morals of the labouring classes.
The Anecdote of Mr. Am——
Young recounts the death of a man identified as “John 42—, Esq.,” quoted from the Encyclopaedia Britannica. This man was fond of cock-fighting and had a favourite cock on which he won many profitable matches. He lost the last bet he laid on this cock, which so enraged him that he had the bird tied to a spit and roasted alive before a large fire. The screams of the animal moved some gentlemen present to attempt interference; this so enraged Mr. Am—— that he seized a poker and furiously declared he would kill the first man who interposed—but in the midst of his passionate asseverations, he fell down dead upon the spot.
Throwing at Cocks and Other Sports
Of the sports mentioned, Young writes that throwing at cocks seems to have the least motive and appears most unaccountable, cruel, and unnatural. He concedes that men feeling pleasure in watching two animals exert courage against each other’s destruction, though a reproach to human nature, is reconcileable to it. But fastening the most gallant animal in creation to a stake, where his courage cannot be exerted for his own defence or the amusement of his murderers, and knocking him to pieces with sticks, is insipid and unsportsmanlike, exciting wonder and indignation, referable only to the prevalence of custom.
He observes that English bull-dogs and game-cocks excel those of every other country in fierceness and invincible courage, and that carried out of the island they degenerate. He regrets that where their noble qualities are found in most perfection they should be most abused. He thinks the English have more cruelty to animals in their sports generally than any neighbours, which he wonders at because no people hold human life more sacred.
These customs have lately been much broken off and continue declining. The merit is assigned principally to magistrates. Cock-fighting has received a severe blow from Justices resolving not to grant licenses to publicans who encourage it. Throwing at cocks at Shrove-tide is annually forbidden in many large towns by proclamation.
Some imagine that bull-baiting and cock-fighting generate courage in spectators, making them better sailors or soldiers. Young supposes that even if so, the effect would not counterbalance their stronger tendency to generate cruelty and thirst of blood. If any nation exemplified cruel sports instilling courage, the Romans would be cited—but such spectacles never became common among them until after the defeat of Hannibal, and no one will say the Romans improved in valour or virtue after that era. Bear-baiting, badger-baiting, and cruel sports peculiar to parts of England are condemned for similar reasons.
Chapter IV: On Hunting, Shooting, and Fishing for Sport
Young confesses he dreaded writing this chapter, knowing he must contend with Custom, Fashion, Inclination, Physicians, Moralists, Legislators, and Divines—the latter groups recommending, permitting, approving, sanctioning, and practising these sports.
His scriptural argument begins after the flood, when God gave Noah and his descendants permission to take animal lives for food. Young argues that this grant itself proves mankind would not otherwise have had this right—the grant would have been unnecessary otherwise. If a grant from God was requisite for killing animals for food, how much more requisite for killing them for sport? He demands what scriptural grant hunters, shooters, and fishers for sport can produce; since none exists, these activities are unlawful, cruel, and sinful.
Some plead that they distribute their catch to poor neighbours. Young answers that motive determines the moral quality of an action; if sport was their principal motive, throwing carcasses to the poor will not atone for wantonly taken lives. Others object that without thinning, game would overrun fields and destroy crops. Young replies there would be no danger if all were freely allowed to kill game whose principal motive was procuring food. A third class hunts for health’s benefit, claiming their license is found in the same grant giving animals for food. Young advises them to ascertain whether health is truly their principal motive, then asks whether riding, walking, gardening, or farming would not answer their purpose. A footnote states that sportsmen claim no pleasure in killing itself, but they ought to feel pain, and their culpability consists partly in rendering themselves insensible to animal suffering.
If these amusements were removed, some men might adopt less innocent methods of passing time. Young substitutes riding, walking, gardening, agriculture, rowing, bowls, cricket, or archery. For those who would feel too straitened without hunting, shooting, and fishing, he pities their taste amid the infinite variety of country pleasures. He hopes to succeed only with the humane and most of the clergy, many of whom agree with him in opinion and practice. He is anxious for the rest to follow, as these sports suit no class of men.
Response to the Manchester Essayist
Young notes that since the preceding part of this chapter was written, he encountered an essay in the first volume of the Memoirs of the Literary and Philosophical Society of Manchester, concerning hunting, shooting, fishing, etc., considered as compatible with humanity. He had anticipated some of the author’s arguments; upon the most remarkable of the rest, he offers observations.
The Essayist argues that death to brutes is no positive evil because it merely terminates their existence, causing only privation of pleasure. Young responds that even supposing this true, what right have we to make animals suffer this privation, and how is it compatible with humanity? Moreover, beyond privation of pleasure, we cause animals great positive pain in the process and act of death.
The Essayist contends that death by disease or natural decay would be more dreaded by an animal than violent death from the sportsman. Young says this is often not true. Even granting it always so, it does not follow that cutting off an animal in the prime of life and full possession of health is compatible with humanity. In most instances, the pleasure an animal would enjoy living to the natural close would infinitely overbalance the pain supposed to accompany natural death. The animal would be a great loser by the sportsman’s intended kindness.
The Essayist argues that unless these diversions are lawful, we cannot discover Nature’s intention in giving scent to the hound, swiftness to the greyhound, and sagacity to the pointer. Young answers that Nature’s primary design was to furnish these dogs with means of catching animals for food. Man’s skill in applying animal powers to his own purposes does not mean Nature intended these endowments for that end. The panther is used in hunting and the hawk in falconry, yet no one imagines their qualities were given for man’s amusement rather than their own preservation.
Chapter V: On Cruelty to Horses
Young explains that he allots a particular chapter to the Horse because of his services, noble qualities, and injuries. Those for whom this chapter is intended are best qualified to recount his services but never reflect upon them. In this country of industry and luxury, the horse, with little exception, ploughs all, draws all, bears all. He contributes most to his master’s profit and pleasure, bearing him on his back or drawing his carriage. In war, he gives superiority to his native country’s cavalry. He is proud in his master’s pride and glories in his glory. In form and motion, he is next to man the most beautiful of creatures; in swiftness, he has literally outstripped the wind. He possesses more than the courage, without the ferocity, of the lion.
Young quotes the Book of Job on the horse’s sublimity, describing his strength, thunder-clothed neck, fearless nature before armed men, and his smelling the battle afar off. The most frequent injuries to horses cannot be described here in detail, as the essay’s nature permits not particulars. Young notes that horses are frequently overlaboured and overloaded, pushed beyond their power, and harassed without necessity, but asks readers to exercise their recollection to supply what is omitted.
There have been instances in this country of men tried for tearing or cutting out horses’ tongues. Though evidence was clear, juries pronounced Not Guilty because unless the conduct proceeded from malice and personal revenge against the owners, it could not legally be found guilty under the statutes. Young suggests the law labours under an imperfection deserving remedy.
Young presents a fact from the Adventurer, told by a horse: He was a favourite of a man who gained fortune by play and racing. The horse won him large sums but was excepted from every match as having no equal. His master regarded even his excellence with malignity when no longer serving his interest. A competitor appeared; the horse won the first heat, securing ten thousand pounds in stakes. The mare’s proprietor declared she should run again for double the sum; the master accepted, promising a gelding to beat her. The horse discovered his master intended to geld him on the spot, sacrificing his life at the moment every nerve should be strained in his service. The horse suffered himself to be bound, the operation was performed, and he was mounted and spurred on. Love of glory surpassed desire for revenge; he won the race again, then sank down at the post in agony, which soon ended his life.
Much cruelty occurs in horse cures as practised. Young notes that a gentleman of skill and humanity is about to point out the abuse and remedy—since this was written, the first volume has been published: “A Philosophical and Practical Treatise on Horses, and on the moral duties of man towards the brute creation,” by John Lawrence. Other cruelties include ordering horses out of the stable before wanted and letting them stand in the sun tormented by flies, which could be prevented by a small deduction from pride or an addition to regard for animals’ happiness. Having condemned hunting, Young condemns all excessive riding in pursuit of game; every injury the horse receives in the chase adds to that sport’s guilt.
Finally, Young quotes Mr. Gilpin on the indignity of mutilating horses’ tails and ears. Within this century, docking came into use, passing through modifications. The short dock was fashionable in the army and carriages, and its absurdity appeared as the practice spread, with the author noting the vanity and cruelty of such mutilations inflicted upon a creature so noble and so deserving of humane treatment.
Cropping and Its Consequences
The essay turns to another practice of mutilation visited upon the horse: the cropping of its ears. The author argues that this is not a matter of mere aesthetics but of genuine physical injury. By removing the natural concave surface of the ear, which serves to receive and channel air vibrations, the horse’s hearing is likely impaired. Furthermore, the ear’s natural construction acts as a “pent-house,” a protective covering for the delicate internal mechanism of hearing. When this is removed, wind and rain can enter directly, exposing the animal to colds, with hail being a particularly injurious agent. The author acknowledges that these injuries might be difficult to prove conclusively, but he insists that the injury to beauty is undeniable and can be argued with certainty.
The natural ear of the horse is described as a thing of considerable beauty. Its neat form, the pleasing contrast between its concavity and convexity, and its elegant proportion—contracted at the insertion, swelling gracefully in the middle, and tapering to a fine point—all contribute to its aesthetic appeal. Colour adds further to this beauty, as the ears of bay and grey horses are often tipped with black, a shade that melts delicately into the colour of the head. But the greatest beauty of the ear lies in its motion. No other animal possesses such a vibrating power. A spirited horse’s ears quiver and dart towards objects, especially when they are set on so that the points are drawn nearly together. Beyond their static beauty, the ears serve as the most expressive interpreters of the horse’s passions. Fear, which some might misname courage, is expressed by darting them forward, while anger or malice is shown by laying them back.
The author expresses his indignation at the entire practice, calling this digression on mutilating the tail and ears “offensive to reason and common-sense.” He doubts that his own words can possibly outweigh the authority of grooms and jockeys to bring about a general reform, but he clings to the hope that a small opposition party might, in time, obtain fashion on its side. A footnote here cites “Remarks on Forest Scenery,” suggesting a source for some of his observations on the natural state of things.
The Humble Kinsman of the Horse
The essay now introduces the ass, clarifying that it does not intend to catalogue every cruelty inflicted upon brutes, but only those that might induce a habit of thinking and feeling in the reader. The author asks that humanity be extended to this “humble kinsman of the horse,” a creature whose inheritance is blows and stripes, and whose misery mankind actively mocks. A footnote mentions passages by Sterne that are favourable to the animal, as well as lines addressed to a young ass in Coleridge’s poems, though the author notes these were disgraced by party-spirited lines at the end, which were omitted in the second edition.
Chapter VI: On Cruelty to Animals in Eating
The subject of cruelty in eating presents a “barren and dreary prospect,” with little to tempt the writer or the reader. The known cruelties are numerous and grim: cramming and sewing up fowls, putting fish into the pan before they are dead, roasting cockles and oysters alive, and skinning eels alive. Beyond these, there are lesser-known and more refined cruelties, such as nailing down fowls by their feet to cram them, bleeding peacocks to death by cutting out their tongues, and fattening carp by hanging them in a net in a damp cellar. The author condemns the practice of crimping fish—cutting them into pieces while they are still alive and frying the stirring pieces—as well as compelling a hog to live in torment to improve the quality of its brawn. He notes with relief that the practice of whipping pigs to death is, hopefully, universally rejected.
The frequent bleeding of calves before they are killed is also condemned. The author quotes an eminent physician, Dr. Martin Lister, from his A Journey to Paris (1698), who states that this frequent bleeding contributes to the whiteness and tenderness of veal by exhausting the red part of the blood until it becomes white serum or chyle. The author observes that Dr. Lister forgets to mention whether this practice contributes to the wholesomeness of the flesh. He suggests that this cruelty often meets its merited reward in the diseases produced by luxury and gluttony.
A humane man, the author argues, cannot take an animal’s life without pity. He describes the “mute eloquence” of a sheep’s meek countenance as it lies beneath the butcher’s knife, a silent plea that surpasses speech. It is also deeply affecting to see an animal enjoying its last hours of health and gratified appetites, knowing that it will soon be killed. To illustrate this point, he quotes Pope’s lines from An Essay on Man: “The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day, / Had he thy reason, would he skip and play? / Pleas’d to the last he crops the flowery food, / And licks the hand just rais’d to shed his blood, / O blindness to the future kindly given, / That each might fill the circle mark’d by Heaven!”
The author poses a powerful rhetorical question: is it not enough to deprive animals of life, to separate the young from the dam, and to cut them off from their pleasures, without also torturing them for the low end of gratifying an appetite shared with the meanest creatures? He points out that the fiercest beasts of prey—the lion, the wolf, and the eagle—only kill for food and do not wantonly torture their victims. This was left for man, who through his reason rises above irrational creatures but through its perversion sinks beneath them. Consequently, a humane man will not taste a dish that is mingled with cruelty. Though he did not personally inflict the torture, it was inflicted on his account, and he ought to show his disapproval by abstaining from such meats. The author concludes this chapter with a sharp observation on religious practice: most men beg God’s blessing on their food, but he calls it “absurdly impious” to beg a blessing on a table furnished by the abuse of His bounty and the torture of His creatures. He could not join in such a grace and would dread a curse upon such a table.
Chapter VII: Of Killing Bees for Honey
The discussion moves to the cruel practice of killing bees to harvest their honey. The author describes alternative methods of beekeeping that do not require the destruction of the entire colony. In one method, the top of the hive is flat, with bars of wood fixed across it from which the bees are intended to suspend their combs. When the season for taking honey arrives, one removes the covering from the top and considers which combs can be taken away without danger of the bees being famished during winter, and with the least danger of destroying the queen. The chosen combs, detached from the sides of the hive, are to be taken out as gently and expeditiously as possible.
Mr. Wildman’s hives are described as having four upright sides, so that the top and bottom are of the same diameter. His hives are not as large as those of common construction. As soon as the swarm has filled the first hive, a second is placed under it, and in due time a third under both. When all three are sufficiently full, the topmost hive may be taken away, and the same process may be repeated as often as found requisite. The author acknowledges that neither method yields so much honey per hive as the old method of killing the bees, but the number of hives would be increased. He argues that whatever method is recommended ought to be as cheap as possible to be adapted for general use, should deviate as little as possible from the present mode for easier reception, and that those who can afford to make experiments ought to lead the way for their poorer neighbours.
Whenever we taste honey, the author reflects, we should consider how much toil every drop has cost, how much skill was exerted in collecting it, and how many fields were traversed and flowers visited. Above all, until a change in practice occurs, we should reflect on how many lives have been taken to obtain it. It is a remarkable and afflicting thought that we cannot have our dishes sweetened unless it is at the expense of thousands of lives—either of these wonderful animals or, dreadful to consider, of our fellow-creatures.
Chapter VIII: Miscellaneous Cruelties to Animals — The Dog
The author begins this chapter with the dog, because few animals are treated with greater cruelty, and scarce any towards which cruelty appears more cruel. The dog shows the greatest attachment and fidelity to Man: neither cold, hunger, nor fatigue can force him to desert his master. He is a domestic companion and friend, enjoying the same hearth, expecting food from the same table, and sharing in employments and amusements. He accompanies his master on journeys, droops at his absence, and joys at his return. He guards his master in the dark, fearful hours of night, forewarning him of dangers from treacherous men. The dog is the most docile and sagacious of animals: he knows his master best, remembers him longest, understands his language and looks most perfectly, and feels most sensibly kindness or displeasure. His sagacity in distinguishing flocks and property, his fidelity in guarding, his courage in defending, his skill in tracing, and his resolution in securing the thief are unrivalled among brutes.
The return for these services is often ingratitude. Instead of praise and caresses, the dog often receives chidings, blows, and spurns, severest punishments for the slightest faults, and even gratuitous and premeditated cruelties. Dogs may be seen dying “under dissection of the knotted scourge,” as Cowper writes in The Task, or set on to be gored by a maddened bull, or to tear and be torn by one of their own race. Yet man’s ingratitude cannot destroy the dog’s attachment. Cruel treatment only drives him to a distance; it cannot make him an enemy. His simple, affectionate heart harbours no resentment. If his master’s proud spirit will soften, the injured dog meets him more than halfway, fawning upon and licking the hand that bore the staff to beat him. The author asks whether man might learn a lesson of Christian temper from the dog, and reminds man that a day approaches when he must answer for every abuse of delegated dominion over inferior natures.
Three instances of canine fidelity are then related. The first, from a friend’s authority, occurred some years ago in Scotland bordering England. A shepherd drove part of his flock to a fair, leaving his dog to watch the remainder during that day and the next night, expecting to return the following morning. At the fair, he forgot both dog and sheep, not returning until the third day’s morning. When he asked whether his dog had been seen and received a negative answer, he replied with anguish that the dog must be dead, “for I know he was too faithful to desert his charge.” He repaired to the heath, where the dog had just enough strength to crawl to his master’s feet, express his joy, and immediately expire.
The second instance, from the County Newspaper and the Gentleman’s Magazine for February 1795, and confirmed by eyewitnesses, occurred in the severe winter of 1794–1795. A young man looking after his father’s sheep on a common near Penrith in Cumberland fell and broke his leg, three miles from home, with no person within call and evening approaching. He folded a glove in his handkerchief, tied it about his dog’s neck, and ordered him home. The dog arrived and scratched at the door. The alarmed parents unfolded the handkerchief, concluded that an accident had befallen their son, and set off. The dog led them directly to the spot, and the young man was taken home and recovered.
The third instance, also from the Gentleman’s Magazine for February 1795 and several newspapers, including the Star for February 3, 1795, took place in the same winter. A farmer in Norfolk, returning home in the evening, was seized with a drowsiness that caused him to fall repeatedly. Finally overcome by the intense frost, he fell and could not rise. His dog, sensible of the danger, began to bark and howl with all his might.
Anatomical Experiments and Cruelty
The author now turns to the cruelty that can be found in anatomical experiments. He cites Pennant’s British Zoology regarding an experimenter who showed “more than Spartan fortitude” with a knife, and mentions another person who professed amusement from the noise of a grasshopper “excited by tortures.” The author argues that when descriptions of experiments contain such expressions, there is good reason to suspect cruelty in the experiments themselves. At the very least, such expressions are cruel and “could be dictated only by a mind too little susceptible of the impressions of humanity.” He concludes that cruelty does take place in anatomical experiments, citing the Philosophical Transactions for 1793 and the British Critick for September 1763. However, he leaves it to “the judgment and conscience of Anatomists” to determine particular instances, repeating his central principle: every experiment is cruel which gives pain to an animal without having as its object “the leading to some great and public good.”
The Practice of Stripping Geese
The author addresses the practice of stripping geese, as described by Mr. Pennant in his British Zoology. In the fens of Lincolnshire, geese are plucked five times yearly: the first plucking occurs at Lady-day for feathers and quills, and then four more times for feathers only between then and Michaelmas. Old geese submit quietly, but young ones are “very noisy and unruly.” The author himself witnessed goslings of six weeks old having their tails plucked to “habituate them early” to the practice. In cold seasons, numbers of geese die from this “barbarous custom.”
The question is whether the practice ought to cease. Considering it both in regard to the community at large and the individuals immediately concerned, the author answers affirmatively. Sufficient feathers for necessity can be procured without this practice, and the owners could support their families without it. The question becomes a case of whether mankind has a right to put animals to severe pain for luxuries and pride—and the author thinks they certainly have no such right.
Caging and Taming Animals
The author questions the right to tame birds, squirrels, and hares, caging them and “debarring them from the unrestrained exertion of the several energies of their natures.” He argues that the grant in Genesis—dominion over fish, fowl, and every living thing—cannot by fair interpretation confer such a right. However, he acknowledges that such practices often originate from a fondness for animals, not from barbarous motives, and could be converted into a source of gentleness and humanity, an idea he attributes to Mr. Addison. The cruelty depends on what kind of animals they are and how they came into our hands. Animals with more natural enemies are less cruelly taken from nature; rescuing and nursing a young creature deprived of its dam is laudable humanity. But once an animal depends on us, neglecting or starving it is “an inexcusable breach of hospitality and humanity.” He quotes Thomson’s Spring on the caging of birds, which describes how birds caught by “tyrant man” and confined in narrow cages lose the brightness of their plumage and the wildness of their notes, and urges friends of love to “spare the soft tribes” and forbear this “barbarous art.”
Dancing Bears and Similar Exhibitions
Dancing bears, dancing dogs, and similar exhibitions are mentioned. The author believes a cultivated mind receives little pleasure from animals taught to mimic human actions. It marks an improved taste to discover beauty in every work of nature; a bad taste is pleased with unnatural things. He would sooner affirm that no animal species is ugly than profess gratification at the “learned pig.” Reflecting on the cruelty needed to produce these “artificial monsters” confirms his opinion. Bears are first brought to dance by placing them on a heated floor while music plays. He notes that magistrates have the power to prevent persons from travelling with such shows, and that a proper exertion of their authority would do much good.
Prejudices and Vulgar Errors
The author concludes the chapter with observations on prejudice and error as they affect the treatment of animals. Taking nations together, these may preserve as much life as they destroy, but in this country, the prejudices that destroy animals are more numerous and powerful than those that preserve them. He wishes people to notice these destructive prejudices so that they might be corrected. For example, toads, serpents, and lizards are commonly thought to be poisonous, but the latest naturalists have determined that the viper is the only poisonous animal in these kingdoms. The hedge-hog is falsely accused of sucking cows, a feat that is impossible given its small mouth. And in parts of Northern England, children call red butterflies “soldiers” and white ones “rebels,” a prejudice that causes the destruction of thousands of white butterflies.
Chapter IX: Progress in Humanity
A man who has made progress in humanity practices and abstains from things a common person never considers. Such a person may abstain from oysters as a luxury food, for there is something shocking in swallowing thirty or forty animals alive at one sitting. Oyster-eaters argue that the oyster is instantly killed when cut from its shell, but the author finds it improbable that life departs so quickly, noting that microscopy has observed circulation continuing for twenty-four hours after the animal’s detachment from both shells. Such a person also refrains from lobsters, which are often put into water before it is hot, suffering the gradual anguish of boiling. He will not make a supper upon larks, reflecting on their springtime songs and how they would have cheered the plowman. He will not tempt boys to rob plovers’ eggs, unable to bear giving anguish to a single bird for the “capricious and petulant demands of a childish and disgraceful luxury.”
Main Arguments
Young’s central argument is that cruelty to animals tends to render practitioners cruel toward their own species. Every act of cruelty generates a cruel disposition, and this disposition will not discriminate between man and beast. He believes that many executed criminals, especially murderers, could trace their wickedness from childhood barbarity to animals, citing Hogarth’s Four Stages of Cruelty as an illustration of this moral progression. The hero of Hogarth’s series begins with barbarous treatment of animals and concludes with murder, the gallows, and dissection. Young also notes the popular opinion that English law rejects butchers’ evidence because they are rendered less humane, calling this likely a “vulgar error” but observing that it demonstrates the general sentiment that cruelty to animals corrupts moral character.
A second argument is drawn from the light of nature. Animals perceive pleasure and pain, and the world’s abundant provision for their gratification shows that the Creator wills their happiness. This makes humanity to animals agreeable to the divine will and cruelty contrary to it. Young presents this as the foundation of the rights of animals independent of scripture, available to all who observe the natural world and reason about its implications.
The third argument, which Young considers the strongest possible, comes from scripture. Though the relevant precepts were delivered to the Jews, Christians should regard them as pertinent. He cites the Sabbath rest commanded for ox and ass, the prohibition on seething a kid in its mother’s milk, the law against killing a cow and its young on the same day, and the narrative of Balaam and his ass. The Balaam story receives extended treatment, with Young identifying it as the scripture passage that inculcates humanity to animals in the strongest and most striking manner. The miracle of the speaking ass involves the immediate agency of the Almighty, and the words following convey a rebuke of cruelty as authoritative as if delivered from Mount Sinai. From the angel’s declaration that he would have slain Balaam and saved the ass alive, Young learns that the life of creatures is dear to God.
Young argues that the scriptural grant to Noah and his descendants permitting the taking of animal lives for food itself proves that mankind would not otherwise have had this right. If a grant from God was requisite for killing animals for food, how much more requisite for killing them for sport? Since hunters, shooters, and fishers for sport can produce no such grant, these activities are unlawful, cruel, and sinful. He addresses objections that sportsmen distribute their catch to the poor, that game would overrun the fields without thinning, and that hunting is necessary for health. To the first he responds that motive determines the moral quality of an action. To the second he replies that there would be no danger if all were freely allowed to kill game whose principal motive was procuring food. To the third he advises sportsmen to ascertain whether health is truly their principal motive and suggests riding, walking, gardening, or farming as alternatives.
Young also argues against the practice of killing bees for honey, presenting alternative methods that preserve the bees’ lives. He acknowledges that these methods yield less honey per hive but notes that the number of hives would increase. He insists that whatever method is recommended ought to be as cheap as possible, deviate as little as possible from the present mode, and be tested by those who can afford experiments before being recommended to poorer neighbors. On the practice of stripping geese for feathers, he argues that sufficient feathers for necessity can be procured without this practice and that mankind has no right to put animals to severe pain for luxuries and pride.
Key Concepts
Young develops the concept of “mute eloquence” to describe the silent appeal of animals to human compassion. A humane man cannot take an animal’s life without pity, and the “mute eloquence” of a sheep’s meek countenance as it lies beneath the butcher’s knife surpasses speech. This concept captures Young’s conviction that animals communicate their suffering and their claims on human sympathy through means more powerful than language, and that those who attend to this silent appeal will find their hearts softened toward all creation.
The “rights of animals” appear as a foundational concept grounded in the observation that animals perceive pleasure and pain and that the Creator wills their happiness. Young presents this as independent of scripture, available to all who reason about the natural world. The world’s abundant provision for animal gratification demonstrates the divine intention that creatures should enjoy their existence, making humanity to animals agreeable to the Creator and cruelty contrary to His will.
Young develops the concept of “delegated dominion” to describe the human relationship to the animal creation. Man holds power over animals not as an absolute proprietor but as a steward accountable to God. He reminds his readers that a day approaches when they must answer for every abuse of delegated dominion over inferior natures. This concept transforms the biblical grant of dominion from a license for exploitation into a trust that carries moral obligations.
The “progress of humanity” appears as both a historical and an individual process. Young observes with satisfaction that savage customs such as cock-fighting and throwing at cocks have lately been much broken off and continue declining, attributing the merit principally to magistrates. He also addresses individuals who have made some progress in humanity, offering guidance for further moral development. This concept suggests that humanity is not a fixed quality but a capacity that can be cultivated or neglected, and that both societies and individuals can advance in their treatment of animals.
Young’s treatment of “prejudice and vulgar error” examines how false beliefs lead to the destruction of animals. Toads, serpents, and lizards are commonly thought poisonous, though the viper is the only poisonous animal in these kingdoms. The hedge-hog is falsely accused of sucking cows, an impossibility given its small mouth. Children in parts of Northern England call red butterflies “soldiers” and white ones “rebels,” a prejudice causing the destruction of thousands of white butterflies. These examples illustrate how unexamined beliefs can cause cruelty, and Young wishes people to notice destructive prejudices in order to correct them.
Themes
A recurring theme is the unity of moral sensibility, the conviction that cruelty to animals and cruelty to human beings spring from the same corrupted source and reinforce each other. Young argues that humanity to animals connects importantly with humanity to mankind, and he observes that many executed criminals could trace their wickedness from childhood barbarity to animals. This theme reflects a broader eighteenth-century concern with the formation of moral character and the conviction that virtues and vices are not compartmentalized but tend to generalize across different spheres of life.
The theme of ingratitude runs through Young’s treatment of human relations with domestic animals, particularly the horse and the dog. The horse contributes most to his master’s profit and pleasure, bearing him on his back or drawing his carriage, and in war gives superiority to his native country’s cavalry. Yet horses are frequently overlaboured and overloaded, pushed beyond their power, and harassed without necessity. The dog shows the greatest attachment and fidelity to man, yet receives often chidings, blows, spurns, and severest punishments for slightest faults. Young’s narratives of canine fidelity, in which dogs remain faithful to masters who have neglected or abused them, dramatize this theme with particular poignancy.
The contrast between human reason and animal instinct appears throughout the work, but Young complicates the conventional hierarchy. The fiercest beasts of prey kill only for food and do not wantonly torture; this was left for man, who through reason rises above irrational creatures but through its perversion sinks beneath them. Animals possess qualities that shame their human masters: the dog’s simple, affectionate heart harbours no resentment, and Young asks whether man might learn a lesson of Christian temper from the dog. This theme challenges the assumption that human superiority consists in the right to dominate and suggests instead that superior powers carry superior obligations.
The theme of luxury and its moral costs connects Young’s arguments about diet to broader concerns about the direction of civilized society. He condemns practices that torture animals for the “low end of gratifying an appetite shared with the meanest creatures” and asks whether it is not enough to deprive animals of life without also torturing them for the refinements of luxury. He questions whether mankind has a right to put animals to severe pain for luxuries and pride, and he condemns those who cannot bear to give anguish to a single bird for “capricious and petulant demands of a childish and disgraceful luxury.” This theme links animal cruelty to a broader critique of civilized corruption and the loss of simpler, more virtuous ways of living.
The Author’s Conclusions
Young concludes that cruelty to animals is not merely a private vice but a moral evil with consequences for both individual character and social well-being. The practice of cruelty hardens the heart, making it indifferent to suffering wherever it is found, and those who begin by tormenting animals often end by tormenting their fellow creatures. Conversely, the cultivation of humanity toward animals strengthens the moral sensibilities and prepares the heart for all the duties of life.
He concludes that the scriptural evidence for humane treatment of animals is clear and compelling. The Mosaic law contains numerous precepts that inculcate humanity, from the Sabbath rest commanded for ox and ass to the prohibition on seething a kid in its mother’s milk. The narrative of Balaam and his ass presents a divine rebuke of cruelty as authoritative as if delivered from Mount Sinai, and the angel’s declaration that he would have slain Balaam and saved the ass alive demonstrates that the life of creatures is dear to God. The grant to Noah permitting the taking of animal lives for food itself proves that mankind would not otherwise have had this right, and no similar grant can be produced for killing animals for sport.
Young concludes that many practices commonly accepted as harmless or even beneficial are in fact cruel and sinful. Hunting, shooting, and fishing for sport cannot be justified by any scriptural grant, and the objections offered in their defense do not withstand examination. The killing of bees for honey, the stripping of geese for feathers, the caging of wild creatures, and the refinements of cruelty introduced into the article of eating all violate the moral obligations that human beings owe to the animal creation.
He concludes that reform is possible and that it has already begun. Savage customs such as cock-fighting and throwing at cocks have declined, and the merit is assigned principally to magistrates who have refused licenses to publicans encouraging such sports and forbidden them by proclamation in large towns. Individuals who have made progress in humanity will abstain from practices that a common person never considers, such as eating oysters, lobsters, and larks, and will extend their concern to the “humble kinsman of the horse,” the ass, whose inheritance is blows and stripes and whose misery mankind mocks.
The book ends with an unfinished objection regarding feeling, suggesting that Young anticipated and attempted to address the objection that animals do not feel pain as human beings do, or that their suffering is not morally significant. The incomplete state of this final section leaves the reader with a sense of an argument still in progress, a conversation that the reader is invited to continue through reflection on the evidence and arguments already presented.
Significance
Young’s essay occupies an important place in the development of animal welfare thought in the English-speaking world. Written at a moment when moral concern for animals was beginning to emerge as a distinct field of ethical reflection, the work synthesizes scriptural, philosophical, and sentimental arguments into a comprehensive case for humane treatment. Its systematic treatment of specific practices, from children’s sports to dietary cruelties to agricultural methods, anticipates the practical reform agenda that would characterize later animal welfare movements.
The work is notable for its theological sophistication. Young does not simply cite scriptural precepts but interprets them with attention to their underlying moral purposes, distinguishing between the literal requirements and the principles they were designed to inculcate. His treatment of the Mosaic law demonstrates that the Hebrew Bible contains a rich vein of animal welfare teaching that had been largely neglected by Christian moralists. His argument that the grant to Noah itself proves that mankind would not otherwise have had the right to kill animals for food is a striking piece of biblical reasoning that continues to inform theological discussions of animal ethics.
Young’s emphasis on the connection between cruelty to animals and cruelty to human beings gives his work a social significance that extends beyond animal welfare. His observation that many criminals could trace their wickedness from childhood barbarity to animals, his citation of Hogarth’s moral fable, and his argument that humanity to animals connects importantly with humanity to mankind all contribute to a broader eighteenth-century project of moral reform. The work participates in the same current of humanitarian sentiment that produced movements for prison reform, the abolition of the slave trade, and the improvement of conditions for the poor.
The book also preserves valuable evidence about eighteenth-century practices and attitudes. Young’s detailed descriptions of cock-fighting, bull-baiting, throwing at cocks, the stripping of geese, the killing of bees for honey, and the cruelties of the dinner table document a world in which animal suffering was woven into the fabric of daily life in ways that later generations would find difficult to imagine. His accounts of the decline of savage customs, attributed principally to the efforts of magistrates, provide insight into the mechanisms of moral and social reform.
Young’s literary method, combining scriptural exegesis with natural history, philosophical argument with affecting narratives of animal fidelity, and moral exhortation with practical advice, creates a work that speaks to both the reason and the heart. His narratives of canine fidelity, drawn from newspapers and the testimony of friends, give concrete embodiment to his abstract arguments about the moral claims of animals. His quotation of Pope on the lamb that “licks the hand just rais’d to shed his blood” and of Thomson on the caging of birds enlists poetry in the service of moral reform, demonstrating that the humane sensibility he advocates is compatible with, and indeed expressed by, the highest achievements of human culture. The work thus stands as a significant contribution to the moral literature of its age and an important precursor to later developments in animal ethics.
