The chief object of this work, as stated at the outset, has been to prove the logical soundness of vegetarian principles, and the hollowness of the hackneyed taunt, so often a makeshift for reasoning, that vegetarians are a crew of mild brainless enthusiasts whose "hearts are better than their heads." How far I have been successful in this purpose it is for the reader to judge; I trust it has, at least, been made plain that, if it is logic that our friends are in need of, we are quite ready to accommodate them, and that nothing will please us better than a thorough intellectual sifting of the whole problem of diet. Only it must be a thorough sifting. The great foe of vegetarianism, as of every other reform, is habit—that inert, blind, dogged force which time called into being, and time only can outwear—and it is this which lurks behind the flimsy sophisms and excuses that the flesh-eater loves to set up, in which, as a rule, though there is much show of controversy, there is little real discussion. To those of our opponents who honestly wish to grapple with the question of diet, and to understand what vegetarianism means (whether they agree with it or not), I submit that the following points have, at any rate, been clearly set before them:

1. That the objections raised to the name "vegetarian" are founded on sheer ignorance of the word's origin, and calculated, if not designed, to distract attention from the substance by fixing it on the shadow. It is not nowadays seriously denied, by any responsible authority, that a vegetable diet, with the addition of eggs and milk, is quite adequate for nutriment; but the method is this—to allow what is said (rightly or wrongly) of the sufficiency of a strictly vegetable diet to be misunderstood by the public as referring to "vegetarianism." Thus, Dr. J. Burney Yeo, in his "Food in Health and Disease," first argues that "vegetarians" have no right to their title, because they consume animal products, and then proceeds to allege various reasons against "a purely vegetable diet," which by his own showing is not what vegetarianism represents. This is a fair sample of flesh-eaters' logic.

2. That the immediate aim of vegetarians is not that which, under various forms, is so industriously foisted on them—viz., a desire to attain at one step to the millennium, by altogether ceasing to take the life of animals, or by entire abstinence from animal products—but rather it is a practical, intelligible, though necessarily imperfect, attempt to humanise, as far as may be, the present sanguinary diet system, by the omission at least of its more loathsome and barbarous features.

3. That vegetarianism, if once admitted to be practicable, offers certain positive benefits of the utmost value, humane, Æsthetic, hygienic, social, economic; while, on the other hand, the denials that have hitherto been made of its practicability, on the plea of structure, laws of nature, climate, digestion, and so forth, are far too weak and illogical to bear the test of criticism. There may, of course, be some conclusive reason against vegetarianism, but if so, why is its production delayed?

4. That in the greater number of the arguments brought against vegetarianism, the importance of the moral aspect of the question is studiously kept out of sight. Thus, Sir Henry Thompson, in his Nineteenth Century article of 1885, while admitting the possibility of abstaining from flesh foods, gave judgment on the whole in favour of a moderate use of them—but without allowing the smallest weight to humane or moral considerations. Writing on the same subject in 1898, he so far repaired this oversight as to argue that it is really kinder to eat animals than not to do so, because otherwise they would not be bred at all! That is the amount of attention the moral side of vegetarianism receives from its opponents, a great humane issue being set aside by a sophism more suited for a Savoy comedy than for serious discussion.

But there is the further question—and as far as these chapters are concerned, the final question—why, if vegetarianism is part and parcel of a genuine "progressive" movement, does it not more rapidly progress? "Why so little result from your propaganda?" is the frequent sneer of the flesh-eater, and the vegetarian himself is sometimes fain to be down-hearted at the seeming slowness of his advance. Does vegetarianism progress? Yes and no, according to the expectations, reasonable or unreasonable, that its supporters have been cherishing. If we have fondly hoped to witness, in the future, the triumph of the humaner living, it must be allowed that the actual rate of progress is extremely disheartening; but if, on the contrary, we work under a rational understanding that a widespread change of diet, like any other radical change, is a matter not of years but of centuries, then we shall not find in the slow growth of our movement any reason for dissatisfaction. Revolution in personal habits, be it remembered, is even more difficult than revolution in political forms, and needs a greater time for its fulfilment, and, looked at in this light, vegetarianism has made as much progress during the past half-century as any other cause which aims at so far-reaching a change.

But what of the many individual failures, it is asked, among those who make trial of vegetarianism? Taking the circumstances into account, the failures cannot be regarded as numerous; for in every such movement there are half-hearted people who are impelled by motives of restlessness and curiosity, rather than of real conviction, and in view of the personal obstacles that beset the path of the vegetarian it is not surprising that in food reform, as in drink reform, there are a certain number of backsliders. In an ordinary household every possible influence, social and domestic, is brought to bear on the heretic who abstains from flesh foods. Anxious relatives and indignant friends adjure him to remember the duty he owes to himself and to his family, and urge him for the sake of those dear to him, if not for his own, to return to that great sacramental bond of union between man and man—the eating of our non-human fellow-beings. Is he smitten by one of the numberless ailments that are the stock-in-trade of the physician, and of which flesh-eaters are daily the victims in every part of the world? The doctor looks wise, shakes his head, and informs a sorrowing circle that it is the direct result of "his vegetarianism." Above all, the fear of ridicule, acting on the natural unwillingness of mankind to venture along unknown paths, is a strong deterrent; for there are still many persons to whom the idea of abstinence from butchers' meat is positively a matter for merriment, and it seems fated that vegetarianism, like every new principle, must be a target for such shafts. Well, so be it! We know that the struggle will be a long one, and if vegetarianism has got to run the blockade of Noodledom, and a huge amount of foolish talk must perforce be fired off, the sooner the battle commences, and the sooner it is concluded, the better for all concerned. And ridicule, as the flesh-eater will learn, is a weapon which can be wielded by more parties than one.

For, to be frank, the dietists of the old-fashioned kreophagist school have talked, and are talking, a great deal of downright nonsense in their tirades against vegetarianism, and the only reason why they have not been more widely brought to book is that they speak in orthodox quarters where no reply is permitted. The oracle, of course, must not be answered or criticised. So far as they have condescended to state a case against food reform, it is a case which would be laughed out of court, as a string of quibbles and absurdities, in any open discussion; for the specialist, that most humourless of persons, is apt to forget that the moment he quits the ground on which he has made himself a master (and such ground has very narrow limitations) he is no longer infallible, and that if he thinks to exorcise modern feeling by the repetition of ancient formulas, he will only make himself ridiculous. And as a matter of pure humour, apart from humanity, which is the more comical—the man who can live in simple affluence on a supply of food which is as little costly to himself as it is burdensome to others, or he who cannot be content unless he gluts an ogreish appetite on animals slaughtered for his larder, and then pharisaically pretends that he has done them a kindness by eating them? It is custom, and custom alone—the thraldom of that "ceaseless round of mutton and beef to which the dead level of civilisation reduces us"^[59]—that prevents civilised men from seeing the essential silliness of maintaining the diet of savages.

That a percentage of those who make trial of vegetarianism should return to their former habit is in accordance with what always happens in the fight between the new and the old, and at the utmost—that is, in the rare cases where such trial has been a genuine one—proves only that a change of diet is much more difficult for some persons than it is for others, a fact which all rational food reformers have recognised. But from the force of affirmative testimony there is no escape, when, as in the case of vegetarianism successfully practised, and yielding the best results, the instances are drawn from every rank and temperament, and are amply sufficient in number to prove the experience trustworthy. It is idle to go on asserting that a thing cannot be done, when you are face to face with some thousands of people who not only have done it, but are happier and healthier in consequence.

With the question of the right choice of food, and how to adopt vegetarianism, I am not here concerned; such information is readily accessible in current vegetarian literature. But it must be said in conclusion—and this is the thought which, above all others, I would leave in the mind of the reader—that the surest warrant of success in the reform of diet is a sincere belief in the moral rightness of the cause. The spirit in which one takes up vegetarianism is the main factor in the result. It is useless to look for any absolute proof in such matters—the proof is in one's self—for those, at least, who have heart to feel, and brain to ponder, the cruelty and folly of flesh-eating. It is an issue where logic is as wholly on the one side as habit is wholly on the other, and where habit is as certainly the shield of barbarism as logic is the sword of humaneness.