Comparatively few of the flesh-eaters are of direct use to man, at any rate while alive, yet one member of the group—the Dog—is the most useful of all domestic quadrupeds, though derived from one of the most savage of all—the Wolf. The Ferret, the Cheetah and the Cat are also more or less domesticated; but they come far below the Dog in amiable qualities, and in value to man. Below their value in service comes the use of their most beautiful skins; and still lower down the scent, derivable from a few species. Yet from these two last sources our fair ones seek to derive new charms, not heeding the poet Cowley’s quaint objurgation:—
“The adorning thee with so much art
Is but a dangerous skill;
Like to the poisoning of a dart,
Too apt, before, to kill.”
Most of the Carnivora may be looked upon as man’s natural enemies, for he has no chance of making headway unless he can keep “the beast of the field” from “increasing upon him.” Amongst primæval men, the tribes who made the best weapons to keep off these, the destroyers of their families, were certain to succeed best in the struggle for existence, so that the act of sharpening a flint-stone to repel the attack of some wild beast may be said to have prepared the way for civilisation, for flint knives led to bronze hatchets, bronze hatchets to axes and hammers of iron, and when once iron-working was understood and appreciated, civilisation went on with gigantic strides.
Besides acting as one of the severest of schoolmasters in the hard school of adversity in which man has been trained, the flesh-eaters serve to keep in check, and indirectly to bring to perfection, the grass-eating tribes. Upon these—the Oxen, Antelopes, Wild Asses, &c.—the large Carnivora delight to prey; in so doing they have to put forth all their powers, their agility, strength, and cunning, while the Herbivores, at the same time, have acquired caution and swiftness of foot in the highest degree, in order to escape from their ruthless and implacable destroyers.
While the larger beasts of prey keep in check the troops of great hoofed animals, the smaller kinds, such as Cats and Ferrets, have a most important office in thinning the constantly multiplying ranks of gnawing animals, such as Rats and Mice, which would otherwise prove a plague of the worst description. Indirectly, too, our Carnivora may even influence largely the spread of certain kinds of vegetation: for instance, as Mr. Darwin has shown, where there are no Cats there is no clover! This seems strange, not to say fabulous, but it is known that clover will only flourish when there are plenty of Humble-bees, the only insects able to carry the fertilising pollen from flower to flower, and so ensure a good supply of seed for the next crop. Now, Field Mice are particularly hostile to Humble-bees, knowing quite well where to find their nests and combs, and how to get at their honey, of which they are very fond. Thus, where Field Mice exist in great numbers, Humble-bees will be comparatively few. But Mice are chiefly kept down by Cats, and so the end of this biological “house that Jack built” is that to ensure a good crop of clover it is advisable to have plenty of Cats about!
The conception of the fearful struggle for existence going on between beast and beast has been caught by Shakspere in a wonderful passage in his “Timon of Athens.” Apemantus would “give the world to the beasts to be rid of the men,” whereupon Timon asks him whether he would have himself “fall in the confusion of men, and remain a beast with the beasts.” Apemantus answers in the affirmative, and Timon’s rejoinder is as follows: “A beastly ambition, which the gods grant thee to attain to! If thou wert the Lion, the Fox would beguile thee: if thou wert the Lamb, the Fox would eat thee: if thou wert the Fox, the Lion would suspect thee, when, peradventure, thou wert accused by the Ass: if thou wert the Ass, thy dulness would torment thee, and still thou livedst but as a breakfast to the Wolf: if thou wert the Wolf, thy greediness would afflict thee, and oft thou shouldst hazard thy life for thy dinner: wert thou the Unicorn, pride and wrath would confound thee, and make thine own self the conquest of thy fury: wert thou a Bear, thou wouldst be killed by the Horse: wert thou a Horse, thou wouldst be seized by the Leopard: wert thou a Leopard, thou wert german to the Lion, and the spots of thy kindred were jurors on thy life: all thy safety were remotion, and thy defence, absence.” To learn the truth of these words, one has only to turn to any book of travel in Africa or India, where one is certain to read of a wholesale destruction which it is melancholy to think of.
In Great Britain this conflict is a thing of the past; but two terrible enemies of man even there have been extirpated within the historic period—namely, the Wolf and the Bear; of these and of their extirpation we shall speak when we come to describe those types. Now, happily, these greedy Carnivora are “scattered and peeled—meted out and trodden down.” Far in the north of the island there is the wild Cat, the two Martens are becoming scarcer and scarcer; the Badger is found here and there; the Polecat is rare; so that the Fox, the Stoat, and the Weasel—the last being the very least and meanest of the order alone are common.