In the teachings of Jesus we find another spirit altogether, but we have not therefore abrogated the old commandments, and the problem of this clear prohibition remains unsolved.

Those of us to-day who feel most keenly the evil of "taking life" are almost Buddhistic in att.i.tude. They object to killing for food or killing in self-defence.

Fortunately for them, we have not many destructive wild beasts among us, thanks to the vigorous killing of our less scrupulous forefathers.

Some millennial dreamers suggest that the wolves and catamounts might have been tamed, if taken young; the natural resistance of the parents to the "taking" overcome by moral suasion, doubtless! Yes, it is conceivable that all the little snarling cubs and kittens might have been tamed, and taught to feed out of the hand--_but on what?_

In India some there may be who would emulate their saintly master, who offered his own body as food to a starving mother tiger; a sacrifice of less moment than appears, since he believed he would soon have another--that he had to have a great many--and that the sooner he got through with the lot the better.

From this unkind point of view his offering was much like that of a lady giving away a dress she is tired of, to promote the replenishment of her wardrobe.

The popular objection to killing, in India, results in the continuance of man-eating tigers and deadly serpents; which again results in their killing, in their untaught vigor, great numbers of human beings and other useful animals. The sum of the killings would be less if the killers were killed.

In our cooler land we have fewer poisonous reptiles and creeping things, yet insects there are which most of us slay with enthusiasm; the most sentimental devotee would hardly share couch or clothing with them!

Surely no rational person objects to "justifiable insecticide"?

The most merciful will usually admit our own right to live, and therefore to kill in self-defence all creatures that would kill us.

Where the line is drawn, however, by many earnest thinkers and feelers, is at killing harmless, inoffensive creatures for food.

The sheep we may shear, but not make into chops; the cow we may milk, but not turn into steaks and stews; the hen we may rob of her potential young, but neither roast nor frica.s.see.

It is no wonder, in view of the steaming horrors of the slaughter-house, that we recoil from killing; but is it the killing which is wrong in itself, or merely the horrors?

Let us first consider how this might be done; and then, if, at its best, the essential act of "taking life" is deemed wrong, we will consider that.

Suppose green pastures and still waters, the shade of trees, the warmth of the sun, the shelter of roof and walls; suppose protection and kind care, provision for the winter, and that we only shared the milk with the calves instead of barbarously separating the mother from her young.

Calves might be bottle-fed, to satisfy their hunger, and afterward turned loose with the mother; they could not take all the milk then, and we might have the rest.

Suppose creatures thus living in an animal paradise, then gathered in small numbers, in local centers, and neatly, instantaneously and painlessly killed, any surgeon can tell us how. They could then be dressed, chilled and sent to larger centers for more general distribution.

What hardship, to them, is involved in this?

Die they must, some time, and by worse methods. In a wild state or a tame they must either be killed by something or die slowly of old age and incapacity.

Even if we nursed the toothless ox, and fed him with a spoon, he would not enjoy it.

We have to admit that in this whole round world all creatures die, and that in most cases, their lives are taken by others.

Looked at from a strictly scientific point of view, this is evidently the order of nature, her universal law. Looked at from a religious point of view, it is as evidently the will of G.o.d, His universal law.

Some postulate a sinless Eden past, before this killing habit began; and foresee a sinless Millennium to come, when we shall have outgrown it.

These do not use their imaginations enough. Even if Edenic or Millennial tigers could digest gra.s.s and apples, are they therefore immortal? Is a species to live on forever in one representative, or one Platonic pair?

Because if we have life, as we know it, we have also reproduction, the direction for which precedes the picture of Eden; each pair being told "to increase and multiply and replenish the earth." Now for the imagination, to forecast results.

If the creatures fulfill this command, (and they do, diligently) the earth presently becomes replenished to a degree apparently unforeseen; unless, indeed, this law of mutual destruction be specially provided to meet that difficulty.

Life is multiple and interchangeable. Life continues on earth not in permanent radiating lines, but in flowing union; the forms combining, separating, growing, in and through one another.

Perhaps our error lies in fixing our minds in the eaten instead of the eater; dwelling on the loss of the killed, instead of the gain of the killer.

We say "all creatures eat one another," and it grieves us. Why not say "all creatures feed one another?" There is something beautiful in that.

Life, to each creature, is all time--all that he has any knowledge of--and living is a pleasure lasting all that time. Death, on the other hand, is but a moment, and even so is a pleasure to the wolf who eats, if not to the sheep who is eaten.

We, with our larger range of thought, and with our strange religions theories, have complicated and warped the thought of death by a.s.sociate ideas. We place conscious fear before it, and load that fear with threats of eternal punishment.

We try to measure the wholesome facts of life by arbitrary schemes of later devising, and life seems dreary by contrast.

When we look at the facts themselves, however; see the gra.s.s green and thick for all its cropping; fish swimming in great schools, "as good as ever were caught"; the oysters peacefully casting forth their millions of eggs to make up for all that are eaten; this whole blooming, fruiting world of life and love; we find these to be the main things, the real prominent features of the performance; and death but a "lightning change artist," a quick transformation, in which one living form turns into another, while life goes on.

Meanwhile, in our human affairs it would be a good thing if we would develop as keen a sense of the responsibility of giving life as we have in taking it. We hold three powers in the life-process--a degree of choice and judgment as to who comes on the stage, some power to decide who shall go off, and when, and, most important of all, the ability to modify life while we have it.

Is it not singular that there should be so much sentiment about taking life and so little about giving it? We give life almost as thoughtlessly as the beasts below us. We are variously minded about taking it, killing many good men in war, and not killing many bad ones in peace, except an ill-selected few; but as yet we have no deep feeling about the struggles and sufferings of people while they live.

If we become religiously careful about the kind of people that are born, and about the treatment they get after they are born, it will make more difference to human happiness, and human progress, than would the establishment of a purely vegetable diet, the abolition of capital punishment, or even the end of war.

THE WORLD AND THE THREE ARTISTS

Three Artists found a World on their hands. It was their World and they were its Artists.

It was a Dull World, and needed Amus.e.m.e.nt.

It was a Hungry World, and needed Food.

It was a Tired World, and needed Inspiration.

It was an Ugly World, and needed Beauty.

Now the Artists were very powerful, having all these things in their gift.

The first was an Artist Pure and Simple, so he arose and gave the Dull World what he himself found amusing,--but the World was not amused.

"Stupid Beast!" said the Artist. "When I am dead it will find my work amusing!"

Then he gave the Hungry World what he thought good to eat,--but the World would not eat it.

"Ungrateful Wretch!" said the Artist. "When I am dead it will find this good food."

Then he gave the Tired World what he thought was Inspiration,--but the World was not Inspired.

"Dense Dolt!" said the Artist. "When I am dead it will recognize my Inspiration."

Then he gave the Ugly World what he thought was Beauty,--but the World did not find it Beautiful.