[CHAP. III.]
OF WILD ANIMALS.
In the History of Man, and of Domestic Animals, we have seen Nature solely as she is constrained; we have rarely seen her perfect, often altered and deformed, and always either surrounded with shackles or loaded with extraneous ornaments. We shall now behold her decked out by simplicity alone, but more attractive by her artless beauty, by her free air, by the sprightliness of her movements, and by all the other attributes of true dignity and independence. We shall behold her traversing the surface of the earth with sovereign sway, portioning her domain among the other animals, and dividing to each species its element, climate, and subsistence; we shall survey her in the forests, in the waters, and in the plains, dictating her simple but immutable laws; imprinting upon every species her indelible characters; dispensing her gifts with equity, and counter-balancing evil with good; we shall observe her giving to some strength and courage accompanied with hunger and voracity; to others mildness, temperance, and agility, attended with fear, inquietude, and timidity; and to all liberty, with uniformity of manners, and ardour in love, which they can easily satisfy, and is always followed by a happy fecundity.
Love and liberty, what blessings! Have those animals which we call savage, because they are not subjected to our will, need of aught more to make them happy? If so, they enjoy another blessing, that of living in a state of equality; they are neither the slaves nor tyrants of each other; the individual has not, like man, to dread the rest of his species; they enjoy peace among themselves, and are strangers to war, but when brought on them by other animals or men. No wonder then that they should shun the human race, steal from our view, live in solitudes remote from our habitations, employ all the resources of their instinct to provide for their safety; and in order to exempt themselves from the power of man, that they should exert every expedient of that liberty which Nature has bestowed on them, together with the desire of independence.
Some animals, and they are the most mild, innocent, and tranquil, are contented with remaining at a certain distance from us, and living in our fields; others more fierce and distrustful, conceal themselves in the recesses of woods; others, as if they knew there was no safety on the surface of the earth, dig themselves subterraneous abodes, take shelter in caverns, or gain the summits of most inaccessible mountains; and others, the most ferocious and most powerful, inhabit deserts only, and reign like sovereigns in those burning climates, where man, as savage as themselves, is unable to dispute the empire with them.
As all beings, even the most independent, are subjected and governed by physical laws, and as brute animals, as well as man, experience the influences of the air and soil, so it appears, that the same causes which have softened and civilized the human species in our climates, have produced similar effects upon all other species. The wolf, which is perhaps the most ferocious animal in the temperate zone, is by no means so terrible or cruel as the tiger, the panther, and the lion of the torrid zone; or as the white bear, the lynx, and the hyæna of the frozen zone. And this difference is not only general, as if Nature, to give a degree of harmony to her productions, had calculated the climate for the species, or the species for the climate, but in each particular species the climate is calculated for the manner, and the manners for the climate. In America, where the heat is less violent, and the air and soil more benign than in Africa, though under the same line, the lion, tiger, and panther, have nothing terrible in them but the name. They are no longer tyrants of the forests, intrepid enemies of mankind, monsters which delight in blood and carnage: but they usually run from before man, and instead of waging open war even against other animals, employ stratagem and artifice to take them by surprise; in a word, they may be rendered subservient and almost domestic; therefore were ferocity and cruelty the characteristic of their natures, they must have degenerated, or rather felt the influence of the climate; under a milder sky their dispositions have become milder; every excess in them has been tempered, and by these changes they have become more conformable to the nature of the country which they inhabit.
The vegetables which cover this earth and are more connected with it than the animal that feeds upon them, partake in a superior degree of the nature of the climate. Every country, every degree of temperature, has its particular plants. At the foot of the Alps we find those of France and Italy, and on their summit those of the northern regions, which very plants we also meet with on the frozen pinnacles of the African mountains. On the south side of the mountains which separate the Mogul empire from the kingdom of Cashmire, we see all the plants of the Indies, and on the other side we are surprised to find none but those of Europe. It is from intemperate climates that we also derive drugs, perfumes, poisons and all the plants whose qualities are excessive. The productions of temperate climates, on the contrary are always mild. Of such happy spots, herbs and roots the most wholesome, the sweetest fruits, the gentlest animals and the most polished men, are the delightful appurtenances. Thus the earth produces plants, the earth and plants make animals, and of the earth, plants, and animals, are formed men; for the qualities of vegetables, proceed immediately from the soil and air; the temperament and other relative qualities of animals which feed on herbs, have a close affinity to the particular kinds they use, and the physical qualities of men, and other animals which subsist on flesh, as well as on vegetables, depend, though more remotely, on the same causes, whose influence extends even to disposition and manners. Size and form, which appear to be absolute and determined qualities, depend, nevertheless, like the relative qualities upon the influence of the climate. The size of our largest animals are greatly inferior to that of the elephant, rhinoceros, or hippopotamus; our largest birds are but small if we compare them with the ostrich, condor, or the cassowary; and what comparison can be made between the fishes, lizards, and serpents of our regions, and the whale, the walrus, and manati, which inhabit the northern seas; or the crocodiles, large lizards, and enormous adders which infest the southern climes, both by land and water? And if we consider each species in different climates, we shall find sensible varieties both in size and figure, as we have already evinced in the history of the horse, goat, hog, and dog. These changes are, however, produced but slowly and imperceptibly; the grand workman of nature is Time, and his operations are equal, uniform, and regular; he performs nothing by starts; nothing but by degrees, by shades, and by succession; and what he does, however imperceptible at first, becomes gradually sensible, and is, at length, marked by effects which it is impossible to mistake.
Wild and independent animals are, of all living beings, man not excepted, the least subject to changes and variations of any kind. Possessed of absolute liberty in the choice of their food and climate, their nature varies less than that of domestic animals, which we enslave, transport, mal-treat, and feed without consulting their taste. Wild animals live uniformly in the same manner; they wander not from climate to climate; their native wood is a country to which they are faithfully attached, and from which they never remove but when they feel they can no longer live in it with security. When they fly it is less to avoid their natural enemies than the presence of man. Nature has supplied them with resources against other animals; with them they are on a level; they know their strength, their cunning, their designs, their haunts, and if they cannot avoid, they oppose them with force to force. But how can they guard against beings who can seize without seeing, and can destroy without approaching them? It is man, therefore, who disturbs, and who disperses these wild animals, and renders them a thousand times more savage than they would otherwise be, for the greater part require nothing but tranquillity, nothing but a moderate and innocent use of the air and earth.
By Nature they are prompted to reside together, to unite in families, and to form a kind of social intercourse. Of this intercourse we still find vestiges in countries not totally engrossed by man; we there find works achieved in common, designs which, without being founded on reason, seem, nevertheless to be projected for rational convenience, and the execution of which supposes at least an union and concurrence of individuals occupied in it. Nor is it by physical force or necessity, like the ants, the bees, &c. that the beavers labour and build; unconstrained either by space, time, or number, they assemble from choice. Those that agree dwell together; and those that disagree live apart; and some, from being perpetually repulsed by the body, are obliged to lead a solitary life. It is only in remote and desert countries, where there is little dread of the approach of man, that they endeavour to establish themselves, and render their habitations more fixed and commodious, by constructing dwellings, or, as it were, small hamlets, which not unaptly represent the first efforts and feeble labours of an infant commonwealth. In countries, on the contrary, over which man is diffused, terror seems to dwell, all society is lost among animals, all industry ceases, and every art is suppressed; they relinquish the occupation of building, and neglect every accommodation; always pressed by fear and necessity, their only study is to live, and their only employment flight and concealment; and if, as may reasonably be supposed, the whole surface of the earth should, in process of time, be equally inhabited by the human species, in a few centuries the history of a beaver would be considered as a fable. The faculties and talents of animals, therefore, instead of increasing are constantly diminishing, for time may be said to oppose them. The more the human species are multiplied and improved the more they become subjected to the dominion of an absolute tyrant, who will hardly permit their individual existence, deprives them of liberty, of every avenue to society, and destroys the very root of their intelligence. What they are become, or what they may become, is an inadequate indication of what they have been or might be. Who can say, if the human species were annihilated, to which of the animals would the sceptre of the earth belong?
THE STAG, OR RED DEER.[C]