To lap with slender tongues the brimming wave;
No fears have they, but at their ease eject
From full maws flatulent the clotted gore.”
The ancient Greeks and Romans had a very curious superstition about the Wolf. They believed that if a man and a Wolf met, and the beast saw his human enemy before the latter caught sight of him, the man became dumb. Hence the Greek proverb, λύκον ἰδεῖν, “to see a Wolf,” that is, to be struck dumb. Virgil expresses the same notion in his “Bucolics”—
“Nunc oblita mihi tot carmina: vox quoque Mœrim
Jam fugit ipsa: lupi Mœrim videre priores.”[123]
There are many ancient proverbs of which the Wolf is the theme; one is often used now, “lupus in fabula,” used in much the same sense as “Talk of the Devil.” Then there is “ovem lupo committere,” equivalent to our “set the Fox to watch the Geese”; “hac urget lupus, hac canis angit,” of much the same significance as “a Donkey between two bundles of hay”; and many others.
We have said that the Wolf is everywhere detested; there is an historical exception to this. He was held in great veneration and even worshipped by the ancient Egyptians, who often embalmed his body, and one of whose cities, Lycopolis (the modern Siout), was named after him.
The Common Wolf is still very abundant in many parts of Europe, being found in Spain, Greece, Italy, France, Eastern Germany, Poland, Russia, Sweden, Norway, and Lapland. In Switzerland they are now rare, and in the remainder of the Continent extinct.
It is very curious to think that such a beast as the Wolf should now flourish in a neighbouring country like France, as we have quite forgotten the time since any plague of the sort existed in England. And yet it is barely two centuries since they were finally got rid of, and in early times they were quite common over a great part of the island, and, of course, did an immense amount of damage. One Saxon king, Edgar, “applied himself to their extirpation in earnest, enlisting English criminals in the service, by commuting the punishment awarded for their crimes to the delivery of a certain number of Wolves’ tongues, and liberating the Welsh from the payment of the tax of gold and silver, on condition of an annual tribute of three hundred Wolves. But the vast wild tracks and deep forests of ancient Britain were holds too strong even for his vigorous measures. What the number and consequent danger had been may be imagined from the necessity that existed, in the previous reign of Athelstan (A.D. 925), for a refuge against their attacks. Accordingly, a retreat was built at Flixton in Lancashire, to save travellers from being devoured by these gaunt hunters. The Saxon name for the month of January, ‘Wulf-moneth,’ in which dreary season hunger probably made the Wolves more desperate, and the term for an outlaw, ‘Wolfshead,’ implying that he might be killed with as much impunity as a Wolf, also indicate the numbers of these destructive beasts, and the hatred and terror which they inspired.