And are not these simple-minded men much in the right? is not all the good sense on their side?—they, who living by the axe, the plough, and the produce of the earth, think only of their trees and their fields, and ask of God but health and strength to work, rain and sun to nourish the vines and gild their harvests. They leave to those who possess their confidence, because they have never deceived them, the care of their political interests; the care of setting and keeping them in the right path, and of directing them in that current of life, slow it is true, but which nevertheless is more effectual towards ameliorating the condition, and eventually increasing the happiness of the human race, than all the new-fangled doctrines promulgated by the statesmen and philosophers of France.
CHAPTER XVII.
The wolf—His aspect and extreme ferocity—His cunning in hunting his prey—His unsocial nature—Antiquity of the race—Where found, and their varieties—Annihilated in England by the perseverance of the kings and people—Decrees and rewards to encourage their destruction by Athelstane, John, and Edward I.—Death of the last wolf in England—Death of the last in Ireland.
The wild and furious wolf, both prudent and cowardly, is, from its strength and voracity, the terror and the most formidable pest of the inhabitants of those districts of France in which it is found. Provided by Nature with a craving appetite for blood, possessing great muscular powers, and an extraordinary scent, whether hunting or laying in ambush; always ready to pursue and tear its victim limb from limb, the wolf,—this tyrant,—this buccaneer of the forest lives only upon rapine, and loves nothing but carnage.
The aspect of the wolf has something sinister and terrible in its appearance, which his sanguinary and brutal disposition does not belie. His head is large, his eyes sparkle with a diabolical and cannibal look, and in the night seem to burn like two yellow flames. His muzzle is black, his cheeks are hollow, the upper lip and chin white, the jaws and teeth are of prodigious strength, the ears short and straight, the tail tufty, the opening of the mouth large, and the neck so short that he is obliged to move his whole body in order to look on one side. His length in our forests, from the extreme point of the muzzle to the root of the tail, is generally about three feet; his height two and a half feet. The colour of his hair is black and red, mingled with white and gray; a thick and rude fur, on which the showers and severe cold of winter have no effect. The limbs of this animal are well set, his step is firm and quick, the muscles of the neck and fore part of the body are of unusual strength,—he will easily carry off a fat sheep in his mouth, without resting it on the ground, and run with it faster than the shepherd who flies to its rescue. His senses are delicate and sensitive in the extreme; that of smelling, as I have before remarked, particularly: he can scent his prey at an immense distance,—blood which is fresh and flowing will attract him at least a league from the spot. When he leaves the forest, he never forgets to stop on its verge; there turning round, he snuffs the breeze, plunges his nostrils deep into the passing wind, and receives through his wonderful instinct a knowledge of what is going on amongst the animals, dead or alive, that are in the neighbourhood.
The declared and uncompromising enemy to almost everything that has life, the wolf attacks not only cows, oxen, horses, sheep, goats, and pigs, but also fowls and turkeys, and especially geese, for which he has a great fancy. In the woods also he destroys large quantities of game, such as fawns and roebucks; and even the wild boar himself, when young, is sometimes brought to his larder, for the wolf is one of that voracious tribe which professes a profound contempt for vegetable diet, and cannot do without flesh; hence the number of his devices for supplying his table and varying his bill of fare is astonishing. But mankind, it must be said in all justice, are not behindhand with him; they are always on the alert; they meet him with tricks as clever as his own, heap snare on snare to take him, and the result is that Mr. Lupus, in spite of his strength, his agility, his practical experience, and cunning instincts, often stretches out his limbs in death in the dark ravines of the forest—the victim of his enemy's superior intelligence.
Obliged during the day to hide himself in the most solitary parts of the woods, he finds there only those animals whose rapid flight enables them to escape his clutches. Sometimes, however, after the exercise of prodigious patience on his part, by lying in wait the whole day, at a spot where he knows they will be certain to pass when the sun goes down, a defenceless roebuck will occasionally fall into his jaws.
This chance on the sly producing nothing, when night has set in he seeks the open country, approaches the farms, attacks the sheepfolds, scratches his way under the doors, and entering wild with rage, puts everything to death—for, to his infernal spirit, destruction is as great a pleasure as the satisfaction of his hunger.