Of Cruelty

I think virtue is something other and nobler than the inclinations towards goodness that are born in us. The mind that is well disposed by nature, that has an easy and natural facility toward virtue, performs nothing worthy of praise thereby. But the man who, against the grain of his passions, by long practice and resolve, brings himself to the right — such a man does something worth remarking. And yet it seems to me that error should be forgiven more readily than vice, and simpleness more than malice.

I am so tenderly averse to pain that I cannot pass the squealing of a hare in my dogs’ teeth without unease. I freely pardon in my quarry a quick and easy death. I must take serious account with myself before I can bring myself to kill a beast that is defenseless and that has done me no wrong. And even where killing is necessary, I cannot abide unnecessary suffering. The sight of blood distresses me — the habit of war might perhaps harden me, but I am not there yet, and hope not to arrive.

I have never been able to see, without displeasure, an innocent beast pursued and killed, which has neither defense nor resource, and of which we have no complaint.

This softness is the foundation of my hatred for cruelty — the most extreme of all vices. Not only cruelty toward other men, but toward every creature that feels. There is a certain natural fellowship and mutual obligation between men and all other creatures that have life and sense. I am not afraid to confess this tenderness, which perhaps places me below many a great philosopher, yet I would not change it for their granite.

Cruelty, in its fullest sense, is the desire to cause suffering for its own sake — not out of passion, not for gain, but as an end in itself. That is the abyss. I have met men who took pleasure in the shrieks of an animal, who laughed at the sight of agony. I have known rulers who prolonged an execution as a spectacle. In these moments I feel something close to despair for the human race. If we are to err, let us err on the side of too much pity.