Theobald: In my country it is the ordinary custom. Do you not, in your country, use such food?
Damajanti: Can you ask? Have not other animals feeling? Do they not enjoy their existence?
Theobald: Certainly; but they are so much below us, that there can be no reciprocity of duties between us.
Damajanti: The higher we stand in relation to other animals, the more are we bound to disregard none of the eternal laws of Morality, and, in particular, that of Love. Hateful is it, at all events, to inflict pain upon an innocent being capable of feeling pain. Or do you consider it permissible to strike a dog, to witness the trembling of his limbs, and to hear his cries?
Theobald: By no means. I hold, also, that it is wrong to torture them, because we ought to feel no pleasure in the sufferings of other animals.
Damajanti: We ought to feel no pleasure! That is very cold reasoning. Detestation—disgust, rather, is the sensation we ought to have. Where this sentiment is real, there can be no desire to profit by the sufferings of others. Yet, where the feelings of disgust for what is bad are weaker than inclination to the self-indulgence which it promises, there is no possibility of their triumphing. For gain the butcher slaughters the victim; for horrible luxury other men participate in this murder, while they devour the pieces of flesh, in which, a few moments before, the blood was still flowing, the nerves yet quivering, the life still breathing!
Theobald: I admit it: but all this is new to me. From childhood upwards I have been accustomed to see animals driven to the slaughter-house. It gave me no pleasure rather it was a positively displeasing spectacle; but I did not think about it—whether we have the right to slaughter for food, because I had never heard doubt expressed on the matter.
Sunanda: Ah! Now I can well believe that the men in your country must be hard and cold. Every softer feeling must be hardened, every tenderer one be dulled in the daily scenes of murder which they have before their eyes, by the blood which they shed daily, which they taste daily. Happy am I that I live far from your world. A thousand times would I rather endure death than live in so horrible a land.
Damajanti: To me, too, residence in such a land would be torture. Yet, were I a man, had I the power of eloquence, I would go from village to village, from town to town, and vehemently denounce such horrors. I should think that I had achieved more than the founders of all religions, if I should succeed in inspiring men with sympathy for their fellow-beings. What is religious belief, if it tolerates this murder, or rather sanctions it? What is all Belief without Love? And what is a Love that excludes from its embrace the infinitely larger part of living beings? Sweet and fair indeed is it to live in a valley which harbours only mild and loving people; but it is greater, and worthier of the high destiny of human life, to battle amongst the Bad for Goodness, to contend for the Light amongst the prisoners of Darkness. What is Life without Doing? We women, indeed, cannot, and dare not ourselves venture forth into the wild surge of rough and coarse men; but it is our business at least to incite to all that is True, Beautiful, and Good; to have regard for no man who is not ardent for what is noble, to accept none of them who does not come before us adorned with the ornament of worthy actions (der nicht mit dem Schmucke würdigen Thaten vor uns tritt).