Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Creative Compassion,
Literature and
Animal Welfare
Michael J. Gilmour
The Palgrave Macmillan Animal Ethics Series
Series Editors
Andrew Linzey
Oxford Centre for Animal Ethics
Oxford, UK
Clair Linzey
Oxford Centre for Animal Ethics
Oxford, UK
In recent years, there has been a growing interest in the ethics of our
treatment of animals. Philosophers have led the way, and now a range of
other scholars have followed from historians to social scientists. From
being a marginal issue, animals have become an emerging issue in ethics
and in multidisciplinary inquiry. This series will explore the challenges
that Animal Ethics poses, both conceptually and practically, to traditional
understandings of human-animal relations. Specifically, the Series will:
• provide a range of key introductory and advanced texts that map out
ethical positions on animals
• publish pioneering work written by new, as well as accom-
plished, scholars;
• produce texts from a variety of disciplines that are multidisciplinary in
character or have multidisciplinary relevance.
Creative Compassion,
Literature and
Animal Welfare
Michael J. Gilmour
Providence University College
Otterburne, MB, Canada
© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature
Switzerland AG 2020
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Series Editors’ Preface
This is a new book series for a new field of inquiry: Animal Ethics.
In recent years, there has been a growing interest in the ethics of our
treatment of animals. Philosophers have led the way, and now a range of
other scholars have followed from historians to social scientists. From
being a marginal issue, animals have become an emerging issue in ethics
and in multidisciplinary inquiry.
In addition, a rethink of the status of animals has been fuelled by a
range of scientific investigations which have revealed the complexity of
animal sentiency, cognition and awareness. The ethical implications of
this new knowledge have yet to be properly evaluated, but it is becoming
clear that the old view that animals are mere things, tools, machines or
commodities cannot be sustained ethically.
But it is not only philosophy and science that are putting animals on
the agenda. Increasingly, in Europe and the United States, animals are
becoming a political issue as political parties vie for the “green” and “ani-
mal” vote. In turn, political scientists are beginning to look again at the
history of political thought in relation to animals, and historians are
beginning to revisit the political history of animal protection.
As animals grow as an issue of importance, so there have been more
collaborative academic ventures leading to conference volumes, special
journal issues, indeed new academic animal journals as well. Moreover,
v
vi Series Editors’ Preface
• provide a range of key introductory and advanced texts that map out
ethical positions on animals;
• publish pioneering work written by new, as well as accomplished,
scholars and
• produce texts from a variety of disciplines that are multidisciplinary in
character or have multidisciplinary relevance.
grab their legs before they fully woke up, then lift them so they were
upside down. They start flapping their wings immediately so it’s physi-
cally taxing––my arms, shoulders and back ached for days afterwards.
The more experienced and stronger ‘catchers’ managed two birds in each
hand. Once we had our chickens, we took them outside to waiting trucks
and lifted them to others who stuffed the startled birds into small cages.
After each delivery we returned to the barn for more, repeating the pro-
cess until the floor was empty of living birds. The process was not smooth.
A bird might slip away at some point and have to be wrestled down. The
lids on the cages were shut quickly and often caught a wing or a foot or a
head. And worst of all was the feeling of occasional breaking bones when
grabbing or carrying the startled birds. Their bodies seemed brittle.
I now regret my participation in that ‘chicken catch,’ and having since
learned more about the factory farming of chickens for meat and eggs,
I’m left with three lasting impressions. The first is the brutal force of
human domination of some animals. Those birds––manipulated into
docility by the lighting––were completely powerless against the muscle
and machinery driving that business. The second is the unnaturalness of
that low, dark, stinking place. Chemicals, overcrowding, body manipula-
tion (through selective breeding, beak cutting), shortened lives. Third, it
made me realize the enormous distance between the barn and the dinner
plate. At that time, I had no idea what meat and dairy production
involved. Not really.
Literary horses like Black Beauty and his friends, and real, frightened,
fragile chickens. The ones products of the imagination, the others actual,
vulnerable, sentient beings. And all of them, in their own way, whisper-
ing a compelling challenge to my then habitual indifference to animals as
neighbours deserving moral consideration. Stories do not always remain
between the covers of books. They linger, sometimes attach, unbidden, to
the stuff of our lives. To meet and enjoy fictional animals is to risk meet-
ing them again in unexpected ways. I cannot hear a toad without smiling,
as the sound brings Kenneth Grahame’s The Wind in the Willows (1908)
to mind. Am I less likely to throw a stone at one for having read that book?
Another encounter. The punchline of the Good Samaritan parable
comes at the beginning of that famous story rather than the end, and it is
not Jesus who delivers it but instead a nameless onlooker. When Jesus
Preface xi
asks what is required of people to inherit eternal life, that onlooker cites
Torah: love God and love your neighbour as yourself (Luke 10:27; cf.
Leviticus 19:18; Deuteronomy 6:5). Jesus agrees with him, but the man
presses further, asking, Who is my neighbour? Jesus’s story about an
assault and robbery, and the unlikely hero who comes to the victim’s aid
is both commentary on the portion of Torah recited, and an answer to
the man’s question. As the parable illustrates, love is owed to a stranger
left for dead on the side of the road. Your neighbour is the one in need.
Your neighbour is the one in need, even when they are not part of your
community. We are to love across boundaries. Love not only family and
tribe, or those of our race and nation, or gender and religion, or sexual
orientation and socio-economic status. Love not only the citizen but also
the refugee. Simply love your neighbour as yourself, says Jesus. Love the
one in need as you love yourself. That’s all it says. My neighbour does not
always look like me or believe like me but that’s no matter. Jesus collapses
the two great commandments of Torah. If we love God, we love our
neighbours, whoever they are. We love our neighbours because we
love God.
Animals are neighbours too. There’s nothing in the story limiting this
boundary-defying love to bipedal types. If this sounds odd, note the
vague kinship between the parable of the Good Samaritan and Jesus’s
remarks about an animal fallen into a pit (Matthew 12:11): “Suppose one
of you has only one sheep and it falls into a pit on the sabbath; will you
not lay hold of it and lift it out?” Of course you will. Yes, this is self-
serving to a degree (sheep have economic value) but it remains aiding a
distressed animal for its own sake is a religiously sanctioned response. You
are not to pass by one in its moment of need any more than you pass by
the human victim of a robbery laying in a ditch at the side of a road. You
help, and you do so even if it is the Sabbath. Humans extending kindness
to nonhumans––Jesus expects it of the God-fearing. And perhaps it
deserves notice it works both ways in the parable. The Samaritan is not
the only one who helps the injured man because he places the stranger
“on his own animal” to get him to an inn for care (10:34). A brief hint of
cross-species compassion?
The parable of the Good Samaritan is a work of fiction. Jesus often told
stories as a way to teach. For me, just as Grahame’s The Wind in the
xii Preface
Index251
xv
About the Author
xvii
1
Introduction: The Parallel Voices
of Modern Animal Welfare Movements
and a Literature of Compassion
My father recited poems out loud at home. I have vivid memories of him
reading “The Bells Of Heaven” (Ralph Hodgson), “Snake” (D. H. Lawrence),
and a poem I have never been able to relocate about a fox caught in a trap
with young in the den. The innocence of anymals and the cruel power of
humanity was manifest in sorrow, anger, even bitterness in my father’s soft
voice. Already then, his sentiments echoed my own experiences with humanity
and anymals in rural America. I also recall my mother singing the folksong,
“The Fox Went out on a Chilly Night,” and how my father would say, “The
fox has to eat, too.” I realize now that the poems themselves might never have
reached me if my parents had not read and sung to us when we were young.
Through their voices—through this shared experience of literature—I gained
more than what was written on those dog-eared pages.
—Lisa Kemmerer, Montana State University Billings, philosopher-activist
Personal correspondence. On her use of the term anymal, see Prof. Kemmerer’s “Verbal Activism:
‘Anymals’,” Society and Animals 14.1 (May 2006): 9–14. It is a contraction of any and animal,
which indicates all individuals of any species other than the speaker/author. She prefers it to the
regular spelling because it avoids the suggestion humans are not themselves animals, as well as the
dualism and alienation implied by the prefixed term nonhumans or the qualifier other animals.
Animal stories are metonymic. Esther is perhaps the most famous pig in
the world as I type this, and the accounts of her adventures, beautifully
and humorously reported by her caregivers Steve Jenkins and Derek
Walter, belie the idea of pigs as mindless automata. They give her a voice,
they tell her story.1 She is a personality, complete with an emotional range
and a capacity for pleasure and pain. She is mischievous, and able to bond
with humans and other nonhumans. Though anthropomorphism and
sentimentalism invite the ridicule and censure of some, such stories, fic-
tional and nonfictional, are persistently popular and effective tools for
promoting kindness to animals. Jenkins and Walter persuade their read-
ers to see more than meat the next time a livestock truck passes on the
highway. The nameless pigs on that truck are just like Esther. They too
have personalities. They too have a capacity for pleasure and pain.
Though it took me many years to realize the potential of literature to
further the efforts of animal compassion agendas––the long-neglected
copy of Black Beauty mentioned in the Preface left closed and unheeded––
other readers and writers long before and since Anna Sewell credit stories
for awakening an affection for nature and the desire to care for it. Jane
Goodall, for one, identifies fiction as a formative influence:
As a child I was not at all keen on going to school. I dreamed about nature,
animals, and the magic of far-off wild and remote places. Our house was
filled with bookshelves and the books spilled out onto the floor. When it
was wet and cold, I would curl up in a chair by the fire and lose myself in
other worlds. My very favourite books at the time were The Story of Dr.
Dolittle, The Jungle Book, and the marvelous Edgar Rice Burroughs
Tarzan books.2
1
Steve Jenkins and Derek Walter, with Caprice Crane, Esther the Wonder Pig: Changing the World
One Heart at a Time (New York: Grand Central, 2017); and Steve Jenkins and Derek Walter, with
Caprice Crane, Happily Ever Esther: Two Men, A Wonder Pig, and Their Life-Changing Mission to
Give Animals a Home (New York: Grand Central, 2018).
2
Jane Goodall, with Phillip Berman, Reason for Hope: A Spiritual Journey (New York: Warner,
1999), 11.
1 Introduction: The Parallel Voices of Modern Animal Welfare… 3
3
Jane Goodall and Marc Bekoff, The Ten Trusts: What We Must Do to Care for the Animals We Love
(New York: HarperCollins, 2002), 69. In Reason for Hope, she also writes appreciatively of The
Wind in the Willows and George MacDonald’s At the Back of the North Wind (1871), both of which
involve, in very different ways, highly imaginative depictions of animals (11–12).
4
Allyson N. May, The Fox-Hunting Controversy, 1781–2004: Class and Cruelty (New York:
Routledge, 2016), 74. See too chap. 6 of May’s book, “The Flight from Modernity: Nostalgia and
the Hunt.” She closes that chapter observing that fox-hunting’s survival “past the Great War and the
Second World War into the twenty-first century in many ways can be explained by the very fact
that it is not modern” (184). Italics original.
4 M. J. Gilmour
First World War, where horses, unprotected against the green billows of
gas that belched across the fields and cascaded into the trenches, died
screaming out of burning lungs.”5 This is where Lofting’s longing for a
kinder relationship with nature begins:
While he could somehow avoid despair and place the war in the context of
a reasonable explanation––these were apparently rational creatures who
had consciously decided to commit atrocity––he could not accept the
destruction of horses. While the troops could protect themselves against
the green gas that poured into the trenches and coated the landscape, the
horses could not. It sprang into their lungs, blistered their tissues, and
led to agonizing death.6
The Dolittle stories, Lofting explains, began life as letters home to his
children during the War, and the idea of a medical person caring for ani-
mals has direct connection to what he saw:
One thing … that kept forcing itself more and more on my attention was
the very considerable part the animals were playing in the World War and
that as time went on they, too, seemed to become Fatalists. They took their
chances with the rest of us. But their fate was far different from the men’s.
However seriously a soldier was wounded, his life was not despaired of; all
the resources of a surgery highly developed by the war were brought to his
aid. A seriously wounded horse was put out by a timely bullet.7
5
Gary D. Schmidt, Hugh Lofting, Twayne’s English Authors Series 496 (New York: Twayne,
1992), 51.
6
Schmidt, Hugh Lofting, 13.
7
As cited in Schmidt, Hugh Lofting, 6.
8
Schmidt, Hugh Lofting, 2. Schmidt here relates the anecdote as told by Lofting’s son, in Colin
Lofting, “Mortifying Visit from a Dude Dad,” Life 30 (September 1966), 128–30.
1 Introduction: The Parallel Voices of Modern Animal Welfare… 5
Nightshade, the vixen, paused in her story a moment, her ears laid back,
her dainty mouth slightly open, her eyes staring fixedly. She looked as
though she saw that dreadful day all over again, that long terrible chase, at
the end of which, with a safe refuge in sight, she felt her strength giving out
as the dogs of Death drew close upon her heels.13
9
Hugh Lofting, Doctor Dolittle’s Circus, in Doctor Dolittle: The Complete Collection, vol. 2 (1924;
New York: Aladdin, 2019), 173. He describes fox hunting as “childish” again on p. 170.
10
Lofting, Doctor Dolittle’s Circus, 166–68.
11
Lofting, Doctor Dolittle’s Circus, 168. Dolittle’s opposition to sport hunting is longstanding. The
sound of the horses, dogs, and hunters’ shouts reminds him of an earlier experience that “made him
an enemy of fox hunting for life––when he had met an old fox one evening lying half dead with
exhaustion under a tangle of blackberries” (168).
12
Lofting, Doctor Dolittle’s Circus, 168–71. Dolittle, of course, speaks animal languages.
13
Lofting, Doctor Dolittle’s Circus, 176. Full account, 174–77.
6 M. J. Gilmour
14
Lofting, Doctor Dolittle’s Circus, 177–84.
15
Lofting, Doctor Dolittle’s Circus, 184.
16
Hugh Lofting, The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle, in Doctor Dolittle: The Complete Collection, vol. 1
(1922; New York: Aladdin, 2019), 60.
17
Terry Eagleton, Literary Theory: An Introduction (1983; Minneapolis: University of Minnesota
Press, 2008), 162.
1 Introduction: The Parallel Voices of Modern Animal Welfare… 7
18
Eagleton, Literary Theory, 162.
19
Richard Adams, The Day Gone By: An Autobiography (1990; London: Penguin, 1991), 22.
20
Adams, Day Gone By, 106. If Lofting was progressive in his thinking about animal welfare, he was
also mired in some of the worst prejudices of his historical moment. As often noted in the critical
literature, early editions of the stories include some egregious racist remarks. Later editions of the
books remove offensive passages.
8 M. J. Gilmour
them. What the book contributes, I hope, is a way of reading that brings
the welfare interests of creative writers to the forefront.
Welfarist Reading
From Edgar Rice Burroughs’s Tarzan to the work of primatologist Jane
Goodall; from gassed horses on the battlefields of World War I to Hugh
Lofting’s Doctor Dolittle; from The Wind in the Willows to the sound of
croaking toads I hear. The boundaries between real and imagined animals
are often porous, and the potential for the experience of one to shape our
experience of the other, in both directions, is ever present. Writers help us
see animals we might otherwise overlook. To meet Esther the pig in print
is to view those inside the livestock trucks we pass with new eyes, and our
interactions with real animals intrude on our experience of fiction, the
way Daisy the tripod is for me a marginal gloss to the parable told in
Luke 10:25–37. Readers’ propensity for mingling the imagined with the
real and vice versa makes animal literature a rich resource for the promo-
tion of humane themes. As C. S. Lewis puts it, in verse, our “love” for
Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle or Nutkin in the Beatrix Potter tales “no doubt––
splashes over on the / Actual archtypes,” by which he means the real
hedgehogs and squirrels that lie behind those artistic representations.21
Literature helps us “love” the animals we meet after closing our books.
Those who advocate for animals bring a different set of concerns and
questions to literature than those typical of other critical approaches. A
welfarist perspective, for lack of a better term, is attentive to ways animals
appear in fiction and verse. It considers what this novel or that poem
teaches us about animals and our interactions with them. It looks at ways
art surfaces ethical questions by critiquing cruelty or exhibiting models of
compassion, both of which invite a reassessment of our own actions. Use
of the term welfarist criticism is idiosyncratic so perhaps an analogy helps
to clarify my objectives. This reading strategy employs a hermeneutic of
suspicion like that found in Marxist literary criticism, which maintains
21
C. S. Lewis, “Impenitence,” in Poems (1964; New York: HarperOne, 2017), 5–6. Lewis first
published this poem in 1953.
1 Introduction: The Parallel Voices of Modern Animal Welfare… 9
or green gases those horses sustain. Think of meals around the campfire
or dinner table that say nothing of the sacrificed animals supplying the
meat. Think of the leather and fur characters wear. Think of the animal
labour supplying the muscle for travel and construction in historical fic-
tion. All are untold stories. The unacknowledged animal is everywhere in
fiction. But when writers shift focus, when they privilege animal wellbe-
ing and tell their stories, ‘the way it is’ is suddenly open to scrutiny.
26
Jane Smiley, “Foreword,” to Anna Sewell, Black Beauty (1877; New York: Penguin, 2011), ix.
Many note the contributions of Sewell’s Black Beauty toward greater awareness of animal suffering.
“The novel had a very powerful impact on the public,” writes Paul Waldau, “and it, along with
much other literature modeled on it, increased concern greatly for not only the welfare of work
animals but for dogs as well” (Animal Rights: What Everyone Needs to Know [Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2011], 42).
12 M. J. Gilmour
Questioning Authority
“Do not accept injustice even if you hear it in my name.”27 This, Rabbi
Jonathan Sacks argues, is the import of the strange story related in Genesis
18 about God’s plan to destroy the cities of the plain. When God
announces it, Abraham questions the justice of the intended action: “Will
you indeed sweep away the righteous with the wicked? … Shall not the
Judge of all the earth do what is just?” (18:23, 25).28 It is an extraordinary
scene and an unexpected question to ask. Does Abraham really think he
is more righteous than God? If we go back a few verses, Sacks suggests,
there is an important clue putting the exchange in context:
The LORD said, “Shall I hide from Abraham what I am about to do, see-
ing that Abraham shall become a great and mighty nation, and all the
nations of the earth shall be blessed in him? No, for I have chosen him, that
he may charge his children and his household after him to keep the way of
the LORD by doing righteousness and justice; so that the LORD may
bring about for Abraham what he has promised him.” (Genesis 18:17–19)
27
Jonathan Sacks, The Great Partnership: Science, Religion, and the Search for Meaning (New York:
Schocken, 2011), 243. Italics original.
28
Here and throughout I use the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible, unless otherwise
indicated.
1 Introduction: The Parallel Voices of Modern Animal Welfare… 13
Abraham is to be the voice of the right (tzedakah) and the just (mishpat).
These then become precisely the words he uses in his challenge: ‘righteous’
(tzadikim) and ‘Judge/justice’ (ha-shofet/mishpat). Abraham challenges
God because God invites him to challenge God.
The story contrasts with that of Noah who, while making the ark, does
not protest God’s announced plan to destroy the world. “That is what
made Abraham, not Noah, the hero of faith,” Sacks continues. “Noah
accepted. Abraham protested. The religion of Abraham is a religion of
protest against evil, in the name of God.”29
My interest in this biblical commentary is more rhetorical than theo-
logical. Though hardly an exact analogy with the Abraham story, the lit-
erature discussed in this book is in most cases a literature of protest. What
interests me about this reading of Genesis 18 is the questioning of moral
authority, the challenge of what is otherwise sacrosanct, which in
Abraham’s case would be any and all acts of God. To question this author-
ity, according to Sacks’s reading, is appropriate. Genesis affirms Abraham’s
willingness to protest and question.30
Conventional thinking places humanity at the centre of all things and
there is a tendency to recoil from the idea of any debt of moral consider-
ation owed to nonhuman life. Humans hunt, eat, sacrifice, and vivisect
animals. We use them for entertainment and labour. It is in our interest
to do so. If indeed humans are the measure of all things, an instrumental
use of animals––they are here for our use, to do with as we please––is the
de facto good. To challenge such presumption is akin to Abraham chal-
lenging God but that is, at least in the opinion of many authors, what
righteousness and justice demand. Many creative writers of the last two
hundred years––again, roughly the time of modern welfare reform
efforts––challenge the ‘god’ of anthropocentrism, the elevation of human-
ity above all else. Animal literature is often a literature of protest, putting
before readers human acts toward animals deemed absurd or abhorrent.
Ideal readers of this literature choose not to accept (as Noah does) but
rather to question, protest, and resist (as Abraham does). They creatively
29
Sacks, Great Partnership, 243, 244.
30
Sacks, Great Partnership, 244.
14 M. J. Gilmour
34
Lofting, The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle, 166. Italics added. Polynesia the parrot likens Dolittle
breaking the rules of bullfighting to his sailing methods (166–67; cf. 147). Though he breaks the
rules of navigation, he always gets where he wants to go.
35
Lofting, The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle, 159.
36
Josephine Donovan, The Aesthetics of Care: On the Literary Treatment of Animals (New York:
Bloomsbury, 2016), 95–96.
37
Donovan, Aesthetics of Care, 99.
16 M. J. Gilmour
38
Carol J. Adams, Neither Man nor Beast: Feminism and the Defense of Animals (1994; London:
Bloomsbury, 2018), 34. In a similar spirit, cf. S. Louise Patteson’s Pussy Meow: The Autobiography
of a Cat (Philadelphia: George W. Jacobs & Co., 1901), 88–89: “pardon me if I mention something
that may seem very trivial to you, but which I consider of great importance. A cat should have a
name, because it adds to her dignity, and commands respect for her. Moreover, it enhances her
commercial value to be thus individualized, and lifted above the general mass of her kind.”
39
Donovan, Aesthetics of Care, 99.
40
Lisa Sainsbury, Ethics in British Children’s Literature: Unexamined Life, Perspectives on Children’s
Literature (London: Bloomsbury, 2013), 167.
41
See e.g., Ernest Hemingway, Death in the Afternoon (New York: Scribner, 1932).
1 Introduction: The Parallel Voices of Modern Animal Welfare… 17
42
Hadas Marcus, “An Ecocritical Approach to Cruelty in the Laboratory,” Journal of Animal Ethics
6.2 (2016): 228.
43
Hugh Lofting, Doctor Dolittle’s Zoo, in Doctor Dolittle: The Complete Collection, vol. 3 (1925;
New York: Aladdin, 2019), 228–29, 247–48.
18 M. J. Gilmour
44
E. B. White, The Trumpet of the Swan, illustrated by Edward Frascino (New York: Scholastic,
1970), 196–97.
45
White, Trumpet of the Swan, 197. Italics original. There is also a storyline about hunting to
extinction in Kathi Appelt and Alison McGhee’s Maybe A Fox (New York: Atheneum, 2016). See
e.g., 169–70.
46
Donovan, Aesthetics of Care, 117.
1 Introduction: The Parallel Voices of Modern Animal Welfare… 19
that as the horse and the dog had now secured a public hearing [in those
books], some one [sic] would be willing to undertake the same for the cat.47
Its only object is to breathe out the joys, the sorrows and the longings of a
misunderstood and much maligned fellow-creature, and to secure for her
the consideration which humanity owes to the dumb.48
There are homes for cats in Dublin, in London, and other English cities, as
well as some in Egpyt [sic] and India. The Gifford Sheltering Home for
Animals, in Boston, is doing great work; also the Frances Power Cobbe
Refuge in Indianapolis, Indiana. We are teaching our children to be kind
to every living creature. May this story of “Pussy Meow” help forward the
good work.52
51
Patteson, Pussy Meow, 87.
52
Sarah K. Bolton, “Introduction” to Saunders, Pussy Meow, 15. Italics added.
53
Peg Kehret, Ghost Dog Secrets (New York: Puffin, 2010), 12. Italics original. There are numerous
references to the Humane Society, Animal Control, and animal control officers throughout (e.g.,
73, 76, 130–135, 139, 142, 149, 165, 181, 186).
1 Introduction: The Parallel Voices of Modern Animal Welfare… 21
inviting readers to let the former intrude on the latter. Do not stay in
imagined spaces, they insist, but turn to the actual animals you see around
you. Black Beauty does this when he highlights one of the takeaways
from the story: “if any one [sic] wants to break in a young horse well, that
is the way.”54 The dog Beautiful Joe closes his autobiography with a direct
address, asking boys and girls to “‘be kind to dumb animals, not only
because you will lose nothing by it, but because you ought to; for they
were placed on the earth by the same Kind Hand that made all living
creatures.’”55
In Ghost Dog Secrets, Kehret’s clearest invitation for audience participa-
tion connects to Wendy, a girl who is enthusiastic about helping home-
less cats. She knits cat blankets for the Humane Society, even starting a
club to get others involved, and then delivers them to the shelter at the
close of the story. Just five pages later, in the back matter of the book,
Kehret supplies instructions for readers to make cat blankets themselves
for the same purpose: “Using two strands of 4-ply yarn, cast on 33
stitches. Knit every row for 66 rows,” and so on. The knitting instructions
are an invitation to continue the kindnesses modelled by Wendy, Rusty,
and their friends. This novel breaks out of the confines of an imaginary
world in other ways too. The backmatter includes website addresses for
the Humane Society of the United States and the American Society for
the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals so readers know where to find fur-
ther information about animal cruelty laws (under the heading, “Learn
how to help”). In addition, the author’s biography on the inside back
cover notes Kehret is a past winner of “the Henry Bergh Award from the
American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals” and that she
“help[s] animal rescue groups.”56
Susan Hughes’s Wild Paws series also combines storytelling with a
humane education and mentions welfare organizations both real and
imagined. She bridges fiction with nonfiction most explicitly in her dedi-
cations. The books Lonely Wolf Pup (2003) and Bunnies in Trouble (2004),
54
Anna Sewell, Black Beauty (1877. New York: Penguin, 2011), 13.
55
Margaret Marshall Saunders, Beautiful Joe, ed. Keridiana Chez (1893; Peterborough: Broadview,
2015), 270.
56
Kehret, Ghost Dog Secrets, backmatter, pages unnumbered.
22 M. J. Gilmour
57
Hughes further grounds the last-mentioned book in a real-world situation, noting, “This story is
based on [De Guise’s] real-life rescue of an upriver beluga whale in Canada” (Susan Hughes,
Orphaned Beluga, Wild Paws [Toronto: Scholastic, 2004], frontmatter, unnumbered page).
58
Holly Webb, Harry the Homeless Puppy (London: Little Tiger, 2015), 9; The Shelter Puppy
(London: Little Tiger, 2018).
59
Melissa Hart, Avenging the Owl (New York: Sky Pony, 2016), 214.
60
Donovan, Aesthetics of Care, 10, referring to Iris Murdoch’s Metaphysics as a Guide to Morals (1992).
1 Introduction: The Parallel Voices of Modern Animal Welfare… 23
61
David Duchovny, Holy Cow (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2015), 56.
62
Duchovny, Holy Cow, 55, 57.
24 M. J. Gilmour
For the most part … courses in literature have left animals to one side. This
is a rather puzzling omission. Puzzling because writers of all genres have
written extensively, perceptively, and almost always provocatively about
our relations with animals—and often to significant moral effect. None
have done so more forcefully than poets who have frequently anticipated
and championed a more peaceful and less exploitative relationship with
other creatures.64
63
Susan McHugh, “Literary Animal Agents,” PMLA 124.2 (2009): 487.
64
Andrew Linzey, “Preface: Animals, Literature, and the Virtues,” in Other Nations: Animals in
Modern Literature, ed. Tom Regan and Andrew Linzey (Waco: Baylor University Press, 2010), xvi.
This book is an anthology “designed to employ the power of fiction to illuminate our moral rela-
tionship with animals” (back cover). I discuss a number of stories found in this anthology.
65
Tzachi Zamir, “Literary Works and Animal Ethics,” in The Oxford Handbook of Animal Ethics, ed.
Tom L. Beauchamp and R. G. Frey (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 932, 953. For his
more extensive discussion of morality and the nonhuman, see Zamir’s Ethics and the Beast: A
Speciesist Argument for Animal Liberation (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2007).
1 Introduction: The Parallel Voices of Modern Animal Welfare… 25
Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis, in The Metamorphosis and Other Stories, ed. Jason Barker, trans.
66
Donna Freed (1915; New York: Barnes and Noble Classics, 2003), 7.
26 M. J. Gilmour
What is disturbing about this scene is the suggestion that the everyday,
monotonous responsibilities of modern life distort and destroy the indi-
vidual. Samsa dutifully provides for his family’s needs, doing what his
parents and sister, and his society expect of him. It is the drudgery of this,
the banality facing modern, urban people that transforms Samsa. The
possibility we might also wake up into such a nightmare is what makes
Kafka’s parable so distressing. But again, it is not really about the nonhu-
man in any real sense.
Instead, the animal books concerning us here are actually about ani-
mals, not humans disguised with feathers and fur and exoskeletons. In
addition, such writers who tend to be sensitive to welfare issues usually
resist diminishing the nonhuman through simile and metaphor. “Yeah,
we care about how we look,” says Elsie, “And we don’t appreciate it that
when you people think someone is fat you call them a cow. And pigs
aren’t very happy about the whole ‘pig’ or ‘swine’ thing, and chickens are
pissed too about the ‘chicken’ thing.”68 In the 1967 film Doctor Dolittle,
the titular character also bemoans the frequent use of animals in insults
directed at other people. Remarks like stubborn as a mule, stupid as an
ox, slimy as a snake and crafty as a fox, “really get my goat,” sings Rex
Harrison.69 Josephine Donovan argues such language is a form of fic-
tional violence against nonhumans:
67
Kafka, The Metamorphosis, 7–8.
68
Duchovny, Holy Cow, 5. On degrading animal imagery, see too Adams, Neither Man nor
Beast, xxxi.
69
The song is “Like Animals,” in Doctor Dolittle, directed by Richard Fleischer, music and lyrics by
Leslie Bricusse, Lionel Newman, and Alexander Courage (Twentieth Century Fox, 1967). My
1 Introduction: The Parallel Voices of Modern Animal Welfare… 27
…one of the most common devices that exploit animal pain for aesthetic
effect is the animal metaphor, or, more specifically, the animal ‘stand-in’ or
surrogate, where the animal acts as a substitute for a human and/or is
employed as an objectified vehicle through which to reveal or express
human feelings. Using animal death and agony to dramatize, symbolize, or
comment upon the emotional state of the human protagonists continues
to be a standard fictional device.70
She supports the claim with a long list of short stories by reputable writ-
ers in which “the moral reality of the animals’ own suffering is elided.”71
Third, and sometimes overlapping with the first criterium, the books
considered here depict in story form experiences facing actual animals as a
way to inform readers about real-world ethical concerns. Sometimes a
specific situation lies behind the story. One of the better-known examples
from children’s literature of recent years is Katherine Applegate’s Newbery
prize winning novel The One and Only Ivan, mentioned above. As she
explains in an author’s note, the inspiration for her fictional tale was a
true one. The real Ivan spent nearly thirty years in a Washington state,
circus-themed shopping mall.72 Thanks to the persistence of activists on
his behalf, Ivan’s circumstances improved dramatically when rehomed in
Zoo Atlanta. Applegate incorporates this example of public intervention
on behalf of a vulnerable animal as well. In the novel, concerned people
mobilize when they see pictures of the sharp-bladed “claw-stick” used to
train the baby elephant Ruby, and they call for the mall to be shut down.73
Inspectors begin to assess all the animals’ health and the conditions in
which they live,74 and eventually Ruby, Ivan, and the others move to the
more spacious environs of a proper zoo where they are able to live with
transcription. Though quite humorous, the lyrics are remarkably progressive, offering a sharp cri-
tique of human indifference to animals. For a rejoinder to the term “stupid chickens,” see Deb Olin
Unferth, Barn 8 (Minneapolis: Graywolf, 2020), 203–204. The novel presents a picture of chickens
as complex beings, most directly in descriptions of the white leghorn hen Bwwaauk, who escapes
from an industrial egg operation (35, 170–72, 200–202, 248).
70
Donovan, Aesthetics of Care, 46. On this, see too 47, 48, 100–101.
71
Donovan, Aesthetics of Care, 47; cf. 46, 168.
72
Applegate, The One and Only Ivan, backmatter, unnumbered page.
73
Applegate, The One and Only Ivan, 229–32, 235; cf. 151–52.
74
Applegate, The One and Only Ivan, 234, 235.
28 M. J. Gilmour
others of their own kind. Julia and her father George, the protestors,
inspectors, and zoo personnel, all acting on the animals’ behalf and agi-
tating for better care, are central to the story. The elephant Stella fore-
shadows their efforts: “‘Humans can surprise you sometimes. An
unpredictable species, Homo sapiens.’”75 Though a highly imaginative
work, it yet remains grounded in identifiable situations (capture of exotic
wild animals, abandonment of dogs, harsh training methods used on per-
forming animals, zoos, etc.).
Fourth, many of the welfare-leaning books discussed employ religious or
otherworldly language and imagery. Authors introduce other-worldly
themes for a variety of reasons. For some, religion provides a source of
moral authority from which to condemn cruelty and promote kindness.
For other writers, the inclusion of ‘animal theologies’ or forms of ‘animal
spirituality’ illustrates the meaning-full existence of other sentient beings.
The species-specific origin narratives in Richard Adams’s Watership Down
and The Plague Dogs, for instance, afford a dignity to rabbits and dogs
respectively; they see themselves in these mythic tales. This is, of course,
analogous to the Hebrew Bible, which in the first creation story presents
humanity as made in the image of God (Genesis 1:27), and in the second
introduces Adam and Eve as its central characters. Adams’s stories do
something similar. Religious language thus provides a kind of ‘vocabu-
lary’ to elevate the perceived worth of animals. To be sure, religion is not
always friendly to animals and a number of authors identify it as part of
the problem, and ultimately at the root of a thoughtless, cruel, human
dominion of nonhuman life. In Robert Burns’s poem “To a Mouse, On
Turning Her up in Her Nest with the Plough, November, 1785” (pub-
lished 1786), which concerns a distressed animal suffering as the result of
an unwitting act, the poet invokes religion by his apologetic reference to
“Man’s dominion” over nature (cf. Genesis 1:28), which he admits has
“broken Nature’s social union, / An’ justifies that ill opinion, / Which
makes thee startle, / At me, thy poor, earth-born companion, / An’ fellow
mortal!” (ll.7–12).76
75
Applegate, The One and Only Ivan, 104; cf. 173.
76
Robert Burns, “To a Mouse,” in The Norton Anthology of English Literature: The Major Authors,
9th ed. vol. 2, ed. Stephen Greenblatt et al. (New York: Norton, 2013), 85–86. Unwitting harm
owing to human action is a topic addressed by other writers too. For instance, we read of “careless”
1 Introduction: The Parallel Voices of Modern Animal Welfare… 29
acts causing the death of animals in Sara Pennypacker’s Pax, among them, the plowing of fields
killing mice, in an echo of Burns, as well as the damming of rivers, which kills fish ([New York:
Balzer and Bray, 2016], 64–65).
77
Donovan, Aesthetics of Care, 1–2.
78
Donovan, Aesthetics of Care, viii.
79
Josephine Donovan, “Attention to Suffering: Sympathy as a Basis for Ethical Treatment of
Animals,” in The Feminist Care Tradition in Animal Ethics, ed. Josephine Donovan and Carol
J. Adams (New York: Columbia University Press, 2007), 189.
30 M. J. Gilmour
Any one but Lady Atkyns would have lost heart, but that heroic
woman did not allow herself to be cast down for an instant. Amid the
general mourning, she still cherished her hopes; moreover, those
who had been helping her had not abandoned her. The “Little Baron”
was still in Paris, awaiting orders, but the gravity of the situation had
obliged him to leave the Hotel Coq-Héron, where his life was no
longer in safety. Well, they had failed with the King; now they must
tempt fortune, and save the Queen and her children. The lady at
Ketteringham was quite sure of that.
“Nothing is yet decided about the Queen’s fate” (Peltier had
written to her at the end of January), “but it has been
proposed at the Commune of Paris to transfer her either to
the prison of La Force or of La Conciergerie.”
Then Lady Atkyns had an idea. Why should she not go in person
to Paris and try her chance? Probably the surveillance which had
been so rigorously kept over the King would be far less severe for
the Queen. And one might profit by the relative tranquillity, and
manage to get into the Temple, and then—who could tell what one
might not devise in the way of carrying the Queen off, or of
substituting some one else for her? She never thought of all the
dangers around her, and of the enormously increased difficulties in
the path for a foreign lady who knew only a little French. Peltier, to
whom she confided her plan, tried to dissuade her.
“You will hardly have arrived before innumerable
embarrassments will crop up; if you leave your hotel three
times in the day, or if you see the same person thrice, you will
become a suspect.”
But his friend’s persistence ended by half convincing him, and he
admitted that the moment was relatively favourable, and that it was
well to take advantage of it, if she wished to attempt anything.
Unluckily, things were moving terribly fast in Paris. There came the
days of May 31 and June 2, the efforts of the sections against the
Commune, civil war let loose. In the midst of this storm, Lady Atkyns
feared that the whole affair might come to nought; her arrangements,
moreover, were not completed. Money, which can do so much,
decide so much, and which had already proved so powerful—money,
perhaps, was not sufficiently forthcoming. Suddenly there is a
rumour that a conspiracy to favour the Queen’s escape has been
discovered. Two members of the Commune, Lepitre and Toulan, who
had been won over to the cause by a Royalist, the Chevalier de
Jarjays, had almost succeeded in carrying out their scheme, when
the irresolution of one of them had ruined everything; nevertheless,
they were denounced.[44] Public attention, which had been averted
for a moment, now was fixed again upon the Temple Prison.
And the days go by, and Lady Atkyns sees no chance of starting
on her enterprise.
We come here to an episode in her life which seems to be
enveloped in mystery. One fact is proved, namely, that Lady Atkyns
succeeded in reaching Marie Antoinette, disguised, and at the price
of a large sum of money. But when did this take place? Was the
Queen still at the Temple, or was it after she had been taken to the
Conciergerie? The most reliable witnesses we have—and they are
two of Lady Atkyns’ confidants—seem to contradict one another.[45]
A careful weighing of testimony and an attentive study of the letters
which Lady Atkyns received at this time lead us to conclude, with
much probability, that the attempt was made after the Queen had
been transferred to the Conciergerie; that is to say, after August 2,
1793.[46]
Some days before this Peltier had again brought her to give up her
resolve, assuring her that she was vainly exposing herself to risk—
“If you wish to be useful to that family, you can only be so
by directing operations from here (instead of going there to
get guillotined), and by making those sacrifices which you
have already resolved to make.”
It was of no use. The brave lady listened only to her heart’s
promptings, and set out for Paris. If we are to believe her friend, the
Countess MacNamara[47]—and her testimony is valuable—she
succeeded in winning over a municipal official, who consented to
open the doors of the Conciergerie for her, on the condition that no
word should be exchanged between her and the Royal prisoner.
Moreover, the foreign lady must wear the uniform of a National
Guard. It was Drury Lane over again! She promised everything, and
was to content herself with offering a bouquet to the Queen; but
under the stress of the intense emotion she experienced on meeting
once more the eyes of the lady whom she had not seen since the
days at Versailles, she let fall a note which she held, and which was
to have been put into the Queen’s hand with the bouquet. The
Municipal officer was about to take possession of it, but, more
prompt than he, Lady Atkyns rushed forward, picked it up, and
swallowed it. She was turned out brutally. Such was the result of the
interview. But the English lady did not stop there. By more and more
promises and proceedings, by literally strewing her path with gold,
she bought over fresh allies, and this time she obtained the privilege
of spending an hour alone with the Queen—at what a price may be
imagined! It is said that she had to pay a thousand louis for that
single hour. Her plan was this: to change clothes with the Queen,
who would then leave the Conciergerie instead of her. But she met
with an obstinate refusal. Marie-Antoinette would not, under any
pretext, sacrifice the life of another, and to abandon her imprisoned
children was equally impossible to her. But what emotion she must
have felt at the sight of such a love, so simple, so whole-hearted,
and so pure! She could but thank her friend with tearful eyes and
commend her son, the Dauphin, to that friends tender solicitude. She
also gave her some letters for her friends in England.[48]
On leaving the Conciergerie, one thought filled the mind of Lady
Atkyns: she would do for the son what she had not been able to do
for the mother—she would drag the little Dauphin out of the Temple
Prison.
FOOTNOTES:
[29] Albert Sorel, L’Europe et la Revolution Française, vol. ii. p.
382.
[30] Forneron, Histoire Générale des Émigrés, Paris, 1884, vol.
ii. p. 50.
[31] Abbé de Lubersac, Journal historique et réligieux, de
l’émigration et déportation du clergé de France en Angleterre,
dedicated to His Majesty the King of England, London, 1802, 8vo,
p. 12. (The author styles himself: Vicar-General of Narbonne,
Abbé of Noirlac and Royal Prior of St.-Martin de Brivé, French
émigré.)
[32] Count d’Haussonville, Souvenirs et Mélanges, Paris, 1878,
8vo.
[33] Gauthier de Brecy, Mémoires véridiques et ingenus de la
vie privée, morale et politique d’un homme de bien, written by
himself in the eighty-first year of his age, Paris, 1834, 8vo, p. 286.
[34] Sorel, L’Europe et la Révolution Française, vol. iii. pp. 288,
289.
[35] On October 21, 1765, at Gonnord, Maine-et-Loire, Canton
of Touarcé, arrondissement of Angers.
[36] Letter from Peltier to Lady Atkyns, dated from London,
November 15, 1792.—Unpublished Papers of Lady Atkyns.
[37] “In case of our not being able to find M. Goguelat, I have
my eye upon a very useful man whom I have known for many
years, and who was, indeed, a collaborator in some of my political
works—he is the Baron d’Auerweck, a Transylvanian nobleman, a
Royalist like ourselves, of firm character, and very clever.”—Letter
from Peltier, Dec. 3, 1792.
[38] In two autobiographical memoirs, one written at Hamburg,
June, 1796, and annexed to a despatch from the French Minister
there, Reinhard (Archives of the Foreign Office, Hamburg, v. 109,
folio 367). The other was written at Paris, July 25, 1807 (National
Archives, F. 6445). Both naturally aim at presenting the author in
the most favourable light.
[39] Letter from Baron d’Auerweck, December 17, 1792. It is
addressed to Peltier under the name of Jonathan Williams.—
Unpublished Papers of Lady Atkyns.
[40] Letter from d’Auerweck to Peltier, Paris, Hotel Coq-Héron,
No. 16 December 25, 1792.—Unpublished Papers of Lady
Atkyns.
[41] Letter from Peltier to Lady Atkyns, London, December 7,
1792.—Ibid.
[42] Narrative of the Municipal, Charles Goret, in G. Lenôtre’s
book, La Captivité et la Mort de Marie-Antoinette, Paris, 1902,
8vo, p. 147.
[43] February 1, 1793.
[44] On this plot, see Paul Gaulot, Un Complot sous la Terreur,
Paris, 1902, duodecimo.
[45] These are the Chevalier de Frotté and the Countess
MacNamara.
[46] In the narrative of the Chevalier de Frotté, who mentions
the Temple Prison (published by L. de la Sicotière, Louis de Frotté
et les Insurrections Normandes, vol. i. p. 429), we consider that a
somewhat natural confusion has arisen. It is, in fact, very difficult
to assign any date earlier than August 6 for an attempt at the
Temple; for on that date there is a letter from Peltier addressed to
Lady Atkyns at Ketteringham, and there can be no doubt that if
the lady had already left England, Peltier would have been aware
of it. On the other hand, the letter published by V. Delaporte (p.
256), and given as written at the end of July, 1793, must be
subsequent to August 2. These phrases: “They will not promise
for more than the King and the two female prisoners of the
Temple; they will do what is possible for the Queen; but
everything is changed, and they cannot answer for anything, and,
as to the Queen, they can say nothing as yet, for they have tried
the Temple Prison only”—these phrases plainly show that the
Queen was no longer at the Temple then. Finally, since in his
letter at the beginning of August Peltier once more tried to
dissuade Lady Atkyns from coming to Paris, it seems rational to
conclude that the lady had not yet carried out her plan.
[47] The testimony of the Countess MacNamara was obtained
by Le Normant des Varannes, Histoire de Louis XVII., Orleans,
1890, 8vo, pp. 10-14, and he had it from the Viscount d’Orcet,
who had known the Countess. Although we cannot associate
ourselves with the writer’s conclusions, we must acknowledge
that whenever we have been able to examine comparatively the
statements of Viscount d’Orcet relating to Lady Atkyns we have
always found them verified by our documents.
[48] It has been sought to establish a connection between this
story and the conspiracy of the Municipal, Michouis (the “Affair of
the Carnation”), aided by the Chevalier de Pougevide, which
failed by the fault of one of the two gendarmes who guarded the
Queen. There may be some connection between the principal
actors in these simultaneous attempts, but we admit that we have
been unable to get any proof of it. It was necessary to take so
many precautions, to avoid as far as possible any written
allusions, and to veil so impenetrably the machinery of the plots,
that it is not surprising that the documents, curt and dry as they
are, reveal to us so few details.
[49] Note in Peltier’s handwriting.—Unpublished Papers of Lady
Atkyns.
[50] Undated letter from Peltier to Lady Atkyns.—Unpublished
Papers of Lady Atkyns.
[51] Unpublished Papers of Lady Atkyns.
CHAPTER III
THE ODYSSEY OF A BRETON MAGISTRATE