Chapter II: Of Domestic Animals (6)

To the singularities already related we shall add some others. The fat of the hog differs from that of almost every other quadruped, not only in its consistence and quality, but its position in the body of the animal. The fat of man, and those animals which have no suet, such as the dog, horse, &c. is pretty equally mixed with the flesh; the suet of the sheep, goat, deer, &c. is found only at the extremities of the flesh; but the fat of the hog is neither mixed with the flesh nor collected at its extremities, but covers the animal all over, and forms a thick, distinct, and continued layer between the flesh and the skin. This peculiarity also attends the whale, and other cetaceous animals. A still greater singularity is, that the hog never sheds any of his cutting teeth, like man, the horse, ox, sheep, &c. but they continue to grow during life. He has six cutting teeth in the under jaw, and a corresponding number in the upper, but, by an irregularity, of which there is not another example in Nature, the bottom ones are of a very different form from the upper, for instead of being incisive and sharp, the latter are long, cylindrical, blunt at the points, and form an angle almost even with the upper jaw, so that their extremities apply to each other very obliquely. It is only the hog, and two or three other species of animals, which have the canine teeth very long; they differ from other teeth by coming out of the mouth, and growing during their whole lives. In the elephant, and sea-cow, they are cylindrical, and some feet in length; in the wild boar, and male hog, they are partly bent in the form of a circle, and I have seen them from nine to ten inches long; they are deep in the socket, and, like those of the elephant, have a cavity at the superior extremity; but the elephant and sea-cow have these tusks only in the upper jaw, and are without canine teeth in the under; while the male hog, and wild boar, have them in both jaws, and those of the under are the most useful to the animal; they are also the most dangerous, as it is with the lower tusks the wild boar wounds those he attacks.

The sow, wild sow, and the hog which is cut, have these canine teeth in the under jaw, but they do not grow like those of the boar, and scarcely appear out of the mouth. Beside these sixteen teeth, that is twelve incisive and four canine, they have twenty-eight grinders, which make forty-four in the whole. The wild boar, (_fig. 29._) has the tusks larger, the snout stronger, and the head longer than the domestic hog, (_fig. 28._) his feet are always larger, his toes more separated, and his bristles always black.

Of all quadrupeds the hog appears the most rough and brutal, and the imperfections of his make seem to influence his nature; all his ways are uncouth, all his appetites unclean, all his sensations are confined to a furious lust and brutal gluttony; he devours, without distinction, every thing that comes in his way, even his own young soon after their birth. His voraciousness seems to proceed from the continual wants of his stomach, which is immoderately large; and the coarseness of his appetite is probably owing to the dullness of his senses, both as to taste and feeling. The roughness of the hair, hardness of the skin, and thickness of the fat, render these animals insensible to blows. Mice have been known to lodge on their backs, and to eat their skin and fat without their seeming sensible of it. Their other senses are good, and it is well known to huntsmen, that wild boars see, hear, and smell at a great distance, since in order to surprise them they are obliged to watch in silence during the night, and to place themselves opposite to the wind, to prevent them having notice of them by the smell, which invariably makes them change their road.

_Engraved for Barr's Buffon._

The imperfections in the senses of taste and feeling is still more augmented by a leprous disease which renders him almost absolutely insensible. This disorder proceeds perhaps less from the texture of the skin and flesh of this animal than from his natural filth, and the corruption which must result from the putrid food which he frequently devours; for the wild boar who usually lives upon corn, fruits, acorns, and roots, is not subject to this distemper, nor is the pig while it continues to suck. The disorder is only to be prevented in the domestic hog by keeping him in a clean stable and feeding him with wholesome food: his flesh will become excellent and his fat firm and brittle, if he is kept for a fortnight or three weeks before he is killed in a clean paved stable, without litter, giving him no other food than dry wheat, and letting him drink but little; for this purpose a hog of about a year old and nearly fat should be selected.

The usual method of fattening hogs, is to give them plenty of barley, acorns, cabbages, boiled peas, roots, and water mixed with bran. In two months they are fat; their lard is thick but neither firm nor white; and their flesh, though good, is rather insipid. They may be fattened at less expence in woody countries, by conducting them into forests during autumn, when acorns, chesnuts, beech-mast, must quit their husks and fall from the trees. They eat indiscriminately all wild fruits, and fatten in a short time, especially if a little warm water mixed with bran and pease-meal is given to them every night on their return home; this drink makes them sleep and augments their fat to such a degree that they are sometime unable to walk or scarcely move. They fatten much the quickest in autumn, both on account of the plenty of food and because they lose much less by perspiration than in the summer months.

It is not necessary in fattening the hog, to wait, as with other cattle, until he is full grown, for the older he is the more difficult it is to fatten him, and his flesh decreases in goodness with age. Castration, which should always precede fattening, is usually performed when they are six months old, and either in spring or autumn, as both heat and cold are injurious to the healing of the wound. When this operation is performed in the spring, they are generally fit for fattening the following autumn. They continue growing for four or five years, and even to that period it is not limited, as boars kept for propagation sometimes increase in size during the sixth, and the wild boar is always larger in proportion to the number of his years: the life of which sometimes extends to 25 or 30. According to Aristotle hogs live twenty years, and both males and females are fertile till the fifteenth. They can couple by the age of nine or twelve months, but it is better to keep them separate until they are eighteen months or two years. The sows have but few young at the first litter, and those are generally weak, even when a year old; she is at all times in season and solicits the male; she goes four months after copulation, and litters at the beginning of the fifth; she will receive the male almost immediately after and consequently bring forth twice in the year. The wild sow has but one litter in the year, and as she perfectly resembles the domestic one in every other respect, this difference may arise both from her not having the same kind of nourishment, and being obliged to suckle her young much longer. In fifteen days pigs are fit to kill; as many females are unnecessary, and as castrated hogs bring most profit, it is customary not to leave with the mother, after that period, more than one or two females, and seven or eight males.

The boars kept for propagation should have a thick body, rather short than long, a large head, short snout, long ears, small fiery eyes, a thick neck, flat belly, broad thighs, short thick legs, and strong black bristles. Black hogs are always stronger than white ones. The sow should have a large body, spacious belly, and large dugs, and some attention should be paid to her being of a mild disposition. After conception she should be taken from the male, as he will sometimes do her an injury: she should be plentifully fed when she litters, and watched lest she destroys her young; and the male must then be carefully kept away, or he will devour the whole of them. It is common to let the females go with the males in the spring, that they may litter in the summer, and that the pigs may acquire strength before winter; unless when two litters are required in the year, then she is put to the male in November, and again at the beginning of May: some of them will regularly produce every five months. The wild sow generally goes with the male in January, and brings forth in June; she suckles her young three or four months, and they never separate from her before they are two or three years old; and it is not uncommon to see her accompanied with two or three different litters at a time. The domestic sow is not permitted to suckle her young more than two months; as early as three weeks even, they go with the mother to the fields, by way of being habituated to her mode of living, and five weeks afterwards they are weaned, when, for some short time they have a little milk, mixed with bran, given them morning and evening. Hogs are particularly fond of earthworms and roots, for the purpose of procuring which it is that they tear up the ground with their snouts. The wild boar, who has a stronger snout than the domestic one, digs deeper, and nearly in a straight line, while the latter does it very irregularly.

The wild boars do not separate from their mothers until the third year, and to which age they are called by hunters flock-beasts, from that circumstance. They never go alone until they are strong enough to encounter the wolf. At that time they form themselves into flocks, and if attacked, the largest and strongest front the enemy, and by pressing against the weak ones keep them in the middle; the domestic hogs follow the same method, and therefore require not to be guarded with dogs. They are very untractable, and one man cannot manage more than fifty of them at a time. They procure a number of wild fruits in autumn and winter by being taken to the woods, as they do worms and roots in moist lands in summer, both of which are good for them; and they may be allowed to go into waste and fallow lands during the spring. From March to October they are taken out as soon as the dew is off the ground, and kept to feed till ten o'clock; about two they are suffered to go out again, and continue till the evening. In the winter they are only let out when the weather is fine, as dew, snow, and rain, are very injurious to them. When a heavy rain or storm comes on, it is not uncommon to see them desert the flock one after another, and run and cry until they arrive at the stable-door; and it is the youngest which cry the loudest; this cry is different from their usual grunting, and resembles that which they make when tied up for slaughter. The male cries less than the female; and the wild boar seldom cries but when he is wounded in fighting with another; the wild sow cries more often, and when suddenly surprised will breathe with such violence as to be heard at a great distance.

Although these animals are great gluttons, yet they do not attack or devour other animals; sometimes, however, they eat corrupted flesh. Wild boars have been seen to eat horse-flesh, and the skin of the deer, and the claws of birds have been found in their stomach; but this is, perhaps, more from necessity than instinct. It cannot, nevertheless, be denied that they are very fond of blood, and of fresh and bloody flesh, since they will eat their own young, and even children in the cradle. Whenever they find any thing succulent or humid, fat or unctuous, they first lick and then swallow it. It is common for a whole herd of these animals to stop round a heap of new-dug clay, and though it is but very little unctuous, they will all lick it, and some of them swallow great quantities. Their gluttony is as gross as their nature is brutal: they have scarcely any distinct sentiments; the young ones hardly know their mothers, for they are very apt to mistake her, and to suck the first sow that will permit them. Fear and necessity seem to give more instinct and sentiment to wild hogs, for the young are more attached to their mother, who also appears more attentive to them than does the domestic sow. In the rutting season the male follows the female, and generally stays about a month with her in the thickest and most solitary parts of the forest: he is then more fierce than ever, and becomes perfectly furious if another male endeavours to occupy his place, in that case they fight, wound, and sometimes kill each other. The wild sow is never furious but when her young is in danger; and it may be remarked in general, that in almost all wild animals the males are more ferocious in the rutting season, and the females when they have young.

The wild boar is hunted by dogs, or taken by surprise in the night, by the light of the moon. As he flies slowly, leaves a strong odour behind him, defends himself against the dogs, and wounds them dangerously, he should not be hunted by dogs designed for the stag, &c. as it will spoil their scent, and give them the habit of moving slowly. Mastiffs will serve the purpose, and are easily trained to it. The oldest only should be attacked, and they are easily known by the tracks of their feet; a young boar of three years old is difficult to take, because he runs a great way without stopping; but the old boar does not run far, suffers himself to be close hunted, and has no great fear of the dogs. In the day he usually hides himself in the most unfrequented parts of the wood, and comes out in the night in quest of food. In summer it is very easy so surprise him, especially in the cultivated fields, where the grain is ripe, which he will frequent every night. As soon as he is killed the hunters cut off his testicles, for their odour is so strong that in five or six hours the whole of his flesh would be infected. Of an old wild boar the head only is good to eat, while every part of the young one, of not more than one year old, is extremely delicate. The flesh of the domestic boar is still worse than that of the wild one, and it is only by castration and fattening that they are rendered fit to eat. The ancients castrated the young wild boars, which they could get from their mothers, and then returned them again into the woods, where they soon grew fat, and their flesh was much better than that of domestics hogs.[L]

[L] See Aristotle's Hist. Animal. lib. vi. cap. xxviii.

No one who lives in the country is ignorant of the profits arising from the hog; his flesh sells for more than that of the ox, and his lard for nearly double; the blood, intestines, feet, and tongue, are all prepared and used as food. The dung of the hog is colder than that of other animals, and should not be used for any but hot and dry lands. The fat of the intestines and web, which differs from the common lard, is employed for greasing wheels, and many other purposes. Sieves are made of the skin, and brushes and pencil-brushes are made of the hair and bristles. The flesh of this animal takes salt better, and will keep longer than that of any other.

This species, though very abundant, and greatly spread over Europe, Asia, and Africa, were not found on the New Continent till they were transported thither by the Spaniards, and who also took large black hogs to almost all the islands of America. They have become wild, and multiplied greatly in many places: they resemble our wild boars, and their bodies are shorter, their heads larger, and their skins thicker than the domestic hogs, which in warm climates are all black, like the wild boar.

By one of those prejudices which superstition alone could produce and support, the Mahometans are deprived of this animal; having been told hogs are unclean, they do not either touch or feed on them. The Chinese, on the contrary, are very fond of their flesh; they raise numerous herds of them, and pork is their principal food; and this circumstance is said to have prevented them from receiving the law of Mahomet. The hogs of China, Siam, and India, differ a little from those of Europe; they are smaller, have shorter legs, and their flesh is much more white and delicate. Some of them have been reared in France, and they will intermix and produce with the common hogs. The negroes raise great numbers of hogs, and though there are but few among the Moors, or in the countries inhabited by the Mahometans, yet wild boars are as plenty in Africa and in Asia as in Europe.

Thus these animals are not confined to any particular climates; it is only observable, that the boar, by becoming domestic, degenerates more in cold than in warm climates. A degree of temperature is sufficient to change their colour. Hogs are commonly white in the northern parts of France, as they are in Vivarais, while in Dauphiny, which is not far distant, they are all black; those of Languedoc, Provence, Spain, Italy, India, China, and America, are also of the same colour. The hog of Siam has a greater resemblance than the hog of France to the wild boar. One of the most evident marks of degeneration is furnished by the ears, which become more supple and pendant as the animal changes into a domestic state; in short the ears of the domestic hog are not so stiff, are much longer, and more pendant than those of the wild boar, which ought to be regarded as the model of the species.

THE DOG.

It is not the largeness of make, elegance of form, strength of body, freedom of motions, or all the exterior qualities, which constitute the noblest properties in an animated being; in mankind genius is preferred to figure, courage to strength, and sentiment to beauty; so we consider the interior qualities in an animal as the most estimable; for it is by those he differs from the automaton, rises above the vegetable species, and approaches nearer to man. It is sentiment which ennobles, regulates, and enlivens his being, which gives activity to all his organs, and birth to desire and motion. The perfection of an animal depends, then, upon sentiment alone, and the more this is extended the more are his faculties and resources augmented, and the greater are his relations with the rest of the universe. When this sentiment is delicate, exquisite, and capable of improvement, the animal then becomes worthy to associate with man; he knows how to concur with his designs, to watch for his safety, to defend and to flatter him with caresses; by a repetition of these services he conciliates the affection of his master, and from his tyrant makes him his protector.

The dog, independent of his beauty, strength, vivacity, and nimbleness, has all the interior qualities which can attract the regard of man. A passionate and ferocious temper, makes the wild dog dreaded by most animals, as much as the pacific disposition of the domestic dog renders him agreeable; to his master he flies with alacrity, and submissively lays at his feet all his courage, strength, and talents; he seems to consult, interrogate, and supplicate for orders, which he is solicitous to execute; a glance of the eye is sufficient, for he understands the smallest signs of his will. Without having like man, the faculty of thought, he has all the ardour of sentiment, with fidelity and constancy in his affections; neither ambition, interest, nor desire of revenge, can corrupt him, and he has no fear but that of displeasing; he is all zeal, warmth, and obedience; more inclined to remember benefits than injuries; he soon forgets ill-usage, or at least only recollects it to make his attachment the stronger. Instead of becoming furious or running away, he exposes himself to the severity of his master, and licks the hand which causes his pain: he only opposes by his cries, and in the end subdues by patience and submission.

More docile than man, more tractable than any other animal, the dog is not only instructed in a very short time, but he even conforms himself to the manners, motions, and habits, of those who command him. He assumes all the modes of the family in which he lives; like other servants he is haughty with the great and rustic with the peasant. Always attentive to his master, and desirous of pleasing his friends, he is totally indifferent to strangers, and opposes beggars, whom he knows by their dress, voice, and gestures, and prevents their approach. When the care of a house is committed to him during the night he becomes more bold, and sometimes perfectly ferocious; he watches, goes his rounds, scents strangers at a distance, and if they stop, or attempt to break in, he flies to oppose them, and by reiterated barkings, and other efforts of passion, he gives the alarm to the family. He is equally furious against thieves as rapacious animals; he attacks, wounds, and forces from them what they were endeavouring to take away; but contented with having conquered, he will lie down upon the spoil, nor even touch it to satisfy his appetite; giving at once an example of courage, temperance, and fidelity.

To determine the importance of this species in the order of nature, let us suppose it had never existed. Without the assistance of the dog how could man have been able to tame and reduce other animals to slavery? How could he discover, hunt, and destroy noxious and savage beasts? To preserve his own safety, and to render himself master of the animated world, it was necessary to make friends among those animals whom he found capable of attachment to oppose them to others; and therefore the training of dogs seems to have been the first art invented by man, and the fruit of that art was the conquest and peaceable possession of the earth.

Almost all animals have more agility, swiftness, strength, and even courage than man. Nature has furnished them better; their senses, but above all that of smelling, is more perfect. To have gained over a tractable and courageous species like the dog, was acquiring new senses and faculties. The machines and instruments which we have invented to improve or extend our other senses, do not equal, in utility, those nature has presented to us; which by supplying the defects of our smelling, have furnished us with the great and permanent means of conquest and dominion. The dog, faithful to man, will always preserve a portion of his empire, and a degree of superiority over other animals; he reigns at the head of a flock, and makes himself better understood than the voice of the shepherd; safety, order, and discipline are the fruits of his vigilance and activity; they are a people submitted to his management, whom he conducts and protects, and against whom he never employs force, but for the preservation of peace and good order. But in war against his enemies, or wild animals, his courage shines forth, his understanding is displayed, and his natural and acquired talents are united. As soon as he hears the noise of arms, as soon as the horn, or the huntsman's voice gives the alarm, filled with a new ardour, the dog expresses his joy by the most lively transports, and shews by his emotions and cries, his impatience for combat and his desire to conquer. Sometimes he moves along with cautious silence to discover and surprise his enemy; at others he traces the animal step by step, and by different tones indicates the distance, species, and even age of what he is in pursuit of. Pushed, intimidated, and despairing of safety in flight alone, animals make use of all their faculties and oppose craft to sagacity. In no instance are the resources of instinct more admirable: in order to make it difficult for the dog to trace him, the animal doubles, goes over its own steps again, by a single spring will clear a hedge or highway, and swims over brooks and rivers; but being still pursued and unable to annihilate himself, he endeavours to put another in his place; for this he seeks an unexperienced neighbour, with whom he keeps close until he supposes their steps are sufficiently intermixed to confound the scent of his, when he suddenly leaves him to become a victim to his deceived enemy. But the dog, by the superiority which exercise and education have given him, and by the excellence of his sensations, does not lose the object of his pursuit; by his scent he finds out all the windings of the labyrinth, all the false means adopted to make him go astray; and far from abandoning the one he was in pursuit of for another, he redoubles his ardour, at length overtakes, attacks, and puts him to death; thus drenching in his blood both his hatred and revenge.

The inclination for hunting or war is common to us with animals. Man, in a savage state, knows only how to fight and to hunt. All carnivorous animals which have strength and weapons hunt naturally. The lion and the tiger, whose strength is so great that they are sure to conquer, hunt alone, and without art. Wolves, foxes, and wild dogs, hunt in packs, assist each other and divide the prey, and when education in the domestic dog has improved this natural talent, when he is taught to repress his ardour and to regulate his motions, he hunts with art and knowledge, and always with success. In deserts and depopulated countries, there are wild dogs, which differ in their manners from wolves, in no case but in the facility with which they are tamed. They unite in large troops to hunt, and will attack wild boars, bulls, and even lions and tigers. In America the wild dogs spring from a domestic race and were transported thither from Europe; some of them having been forgotten or abandoned in those deserts, have multiplied in such a degree that they go in troops to inhabited places, where they attack the cattle, and will sometimes even approach the inhabitants, who are obliged to drive them away by force and kill them like other ferocious animals. Dogs however continue in this state only while they remain unacquainted with man, for if we approach wild ones with gentleness, they soon grow tame, become familiar, and remain faithfully attached to their masters; but the wolf though taken young and brought up in the house, is only gentle in his youth, never loses his taste for prey, and sooner or later gives himself up to his fondness for rapine and destruction.

The dog may be said to be the only animal whose fidelity will stand the proof; who always knows his master, and even his master's friends; who points out a stranger as soon as he arrives; who understands his own name, and knows the voices of the domestics; who has not confidence in himself alone; who, when he has lost his master, will call upon him by his cries and lamentations; who in long journeys, and which he may have travelled but once, will remember his way, and find out the roads; in fine, the dog is the only animal whose talents are evident, and whose education is always successful. Of all animals he is also the most susceptible of impressions, most easily modified by moral causes, and most subject to alterations caused by physical influences. The temperament, faculties, and habits of his body vary prodigiously, and even his form is not uniform. In the same country one dog is very different from another, and the species seems quite changed in different climates; from thence spring the mixture and variety of races which are so great that it is impossible to enumerate or describe them. From the same causes arise that great variety so visible in the height, figure, length of the snout, form of the head, length and direction of the ears and tail, colour, quality and quantity of hair, &c. so that there seems to remain nothing constant in these animals but the conformity of their internal organization, and the faculty of procreating together. And as those which differ most from each other can intermix and produce fertile individuals, it is evident that dogs, however greatly they may vary, nevertheless constitute but one species. But what is most difficult to ascertain in this numerous variety of races, is the character of the primitive stock. How are we to distinguish the effects produced by the influence of the climate, food, &c.? How discover the changes which have resulted from an intermixture among themselves, either in a wild or domestic state? All these causes will, in time, alter the most permanent forms, and the image of nature does not preserve its purity in those objects of which mankind have had the management. Those animals which are independent and can chuse for themselves both their food and climate, are those which best preserve their original impressions, and we may believe the most ancient of their species are the most faithfully represented by their descendants. But those which mankind have subdued, transported from climate to climate, whose food, customs, and manners of living he has changed, may also be those which have changed most in their forms; and it is a fact that there are more varieties among domestic than wild animals; and as among domestic animals the dog is most attached to man, lives also the most regularly, and who possesses sentiments to render him docile, obedient, susceptible of all impressions, and submissive to all restraints, it is not astonishing that he should be that in which we find the greatest variety not only in figure, height, and colour, but in every other quality.

There are also other circumstances which contribute to this change. The life of the dog is short, his produce is frequent, and in pretty large numbers; he is perpetually beneath the eye of man, and whenever by an accident, which is very common in nature, there may have appeared an individual possessing singular characters, or apparent varieties, they have been perpetuated by uniting together those individuals, and not permitting them to intermix with any others; as is done in the present time, when we want to procure a new breed of dogs, or other animals. Besides, though all the species were equally ancient, yet the number of generations being necessarily the greatest in those whose lives are short, their varieties, changes, and even degenerations, must have become more sensible, since they must be further removed from their original stock than those whose lives are longer. Man is at present eight times nearer to Adam than is the dog to the first of his race, because man lives to fourscore years, and the dog to not more than ten. If, therefore, from any cause these two species equally degenerate, the alteration would be eight times more conspicuous in the dog than in man. Those whose lives are so short that they are succeeded every year by a new generation, are infinitely more subject to variations of every kind than those which have longer lives. It is the same with annual plants (some of which may be said to be artificial or factitious), when compared with other vegetables. Wheat, for example, has been so greatly changed by man that it is not at present to be any where found in a state of nature, it certainly has some resemblance to darnel, dog-grass, and several other herbs of the field, but we are ignorant to which its origin ought to be referred; and as it is renewed every year, and serves for the common food of man, so it has experienced more cultivation than any other plant, and consequently undergone a greater variety of changes. Man can, therefore, not only make every individual in the universe useful to his wants, but, with the aid of time, he can change, modify, and improve their species; and this is the greatest power he has over Nature. To have transformed a barren herb into wheat is a kind of creation, on which, however, he has no reason to pride himself, since it is only by the sweat of his brow, and reiterated culture, that he is enabled to obtain from the bosom of the earth this, often bitter, subsistence. Thus those species, as well among vegetables as animals, which have been the most cultivated by man, are those which have undergone the greatest changes; and as we are sometimes, as in the example of wheat, unable to know their primitive form, it is not impossible that among the numerous varieties of dogs which exist at present there may not be one like the first animal of his species, although the whole of these breeds must have proceeded virtually from him. Nature, notwithstanding, never fails to resume her rights, when left at liberty to act. Wheat, if sown in uncultivated land, degenerates the first year; if that is likewise sown it will be more degenerated in the second generation, and if continued for a succession of ages the original plant of the wheat would appear; and, by an experiment of this kind, it might be discovered how much time Nature requires to reinstate herself and destroy the effect of art, which restrained her. This experiment might easily be made on corn and plants, but it would be in vain to attempt it on animals, because they would not only be difficult to couple and unite but even to manage, and to surmount that invincible repugnance they have to every thing which is contrary to their dispositions or habits. We need not, therefore, expect to find out, by this method, which is the primitive race of dogs, or any other animals, which are subject to permanent varieties. But in default of the knowledge of these facts, which cannot be acquired, we may assimilate particular indications, and from those draw probable conjectures.

Those domestic dogs which were abandoned in the deserts of America, and have lived wild for 150 or 200 years, though then changed from their original breed, must notwithstanding, in this long space of time, have approached, at least in part, to their primitive form. Travellers say that they resemble our greyhounds; and they say the same of the wild dogs at Congo, which like those in America, assemble in packs to make war with lions, tigers, &c. But others, without comparing the wild dogs of St. Domingo to greyhounds, only say that they have long flat heads, thin muzzles, a ferocious air, and thin meagre bodies; that they are exceedingly swift in the chace, hunt in perfection, and are easily taken and tamed when young; thus these wild dogs are extremely thin and light; and as the common greyhound differs but little from the mastiff, or what we call the shepherd's dog, it is not improbable that these wild dogs are rather of those species than real greyhounds; because on the other hand more ancient travellers have said that the dogs of Canada have ears erect like foxes, and resemble our middle-sized shepherd-dogs; that those of the Antille Isles had very long heads and ears, and had very much the appearance of foxes; that the Indians of Peru had only two kinds, a large and a small one, which they called Alco; that those of the isthmus of America, were very ugly, and that their hair was rough and coarse, which likewise implies they had ears erect. We cannot, therefore, have any doubt that the original dogs of America, before they had any communication with those of Europe, were all of the same race, and that they approached nearest to those dogs which have thin muzzles, erect ears, and coarse hair, like the shepherd's dogs; and what leads me further to believe that the wild dogs of St. Domingo are not real greyhounds is the latter being so scarce in France, that they are brought for the king from Constantinople, and other parts of the Levant, and because I never knew of any being brought from St. Domingo, or any of our American colonies. Besides, in searching what travellers have said of dogs of different colonies, we find that the dogs of cold climates have long muzzles and erect ears; that those of Lapland are small, have erect ears, and pointed muzzles; that the Siberian, or wolf dogs, are bigger than those of Lapland, but they also have erect ears, coarse hair, and sharp muzzles; and that those of Iceland have a strong resemblance to the Siberian dogs; and, in the same manner, the native dogs of the Cape of Good Hope and other warm countries, have sharp muzzles, erect ears, long trailing tails, longhair, but shining and rough: that these dogs are excellent for guarding of flocks, and consequently not only resemble in figure but even in instinct our shepherd's dogs. In climates still warmer, such as Madagascar, Madura, Calicut, and Malabar, the native dogs have all sharp muzzles, erect ears, and in almost every respect resemble our shepherd's dogs; nay, that even when mastiffs, spaniels, water-dogs, bull-dogs, beagles, blood-hounds, &c. have been transported thither they degenerated at the second or third generation. In countries extremely hot, like Guinea, the degeneration is still more quick, since by the end of three or four years they lose their voice, can no longer bark, but only make an howling noise, and their immediate offspring have erect ears like foxes. The native dogs of these regions are very ugly; they have sharp muzzles, long erect ears, and long pointed tails; they have no hair on their bodies, their skin is usually spotted, though sometimes it is of an uniform colour; in short they are disagreeable to the eye and still more to the touch.

We may presume, therefore, and with some degree of probability, that the shepherd's dog is that which approaches nearest to the primitive race, since in all countries inhabited by savages, or men half civilized, the dogs resemble this breed more than any other. On the whole continent of the New World, they had but these and no variety; nor is there any other to be found on the south and north extremities of our own continent; and even in France and other temperate climates, they are still very numerous, though greater attention has been paid to multiplying and rearing the more beautiful, than the preservation of those which are most useful, and which have been totally abandoned to the peasants who have the care of our flocks. If we also consider that this dog notwithstanding his ugliness, and his wild and melancholy look, is still superior in instinct to all others, that he has a decided character in which education has no share, that he is the only thing born perfectly trained, that guided by natural powers alone, he applies himself to the care of our flocks, which he executes with singular assiduity, vigilance, and fidelity, that he conducts them with an admirable intelligence which has not been communicated to him; that his talents astonish at the same time they give repose to his master, whilst it requires much time and trouble to instruct other dogs for the purposes to which they are destined; if we reflect on these facts, we shall be confirmed in the opinion that the shepherd's dog is the true dog of nature; the dog that has been bestowed upon us for the extent of his utility; that he has a superior relation to the general order of animated beings who have mutual occasion for the assistance of each other; and, in short, the one we ought to look upon as the stock and model of the whole species.

The human species appear clownish, deformed and diminutive in the frozen climates of the north. In Lapland, Greenland, and in all countries where the cold is excessive, we find none but small and ugly men; but in the neighbouring countries where the cold is less intense, we all at once meet with the Finlanders, Danes, &c. who for figure, complexion and stature, are perhaps the handsomest of all mankind. It is the same with the species of dogs: the Lapland dogs are very ugly, and so small that they scarcely ever exceed a foot in length. Those of Siberia, though less ugly have ears erect, with a wild and savage look, while in the neighbouring climates, where we find those handsome men just mentioned, are also the largest and most beautiful dogs. The dogs of Tartary, Albania, the northern parts of Greece, Denmark and Ireland, are the largest and most powerful, and are made use of for drawing carriages. The Irish greyhounds (_fig. 30._) are of very ancient race and still exist, though in small numbers in their original climate. They were called by the ancients, dogs of Epirus, and Albanian dogs; Pliny has recorded in terms as energetic as elegant, a combat of one of these dogs, first with a lion and afterwards with an elephant. These dogs are much larger than the mastiff; they are so rare in France that I never saw but one of them, and he appeared as he sat to be about five feet high, and in form resembled the large Danish dog; but exceeded him very much in his size. He was quite white, and his manner was perfectly gentle and peaceable. In all temperate climates, as in England, France, Spain, Germany and Italy, we find men and dogs of all kinds. This variety proceeds partly from the influence of the climate, and partly from the concourse and intermixture of foreigners. On the former we shall not enlarge here, but with respect to the dogs, we shall observe, with as much attention as possible, the resemblances and differences which care, food, and climate have produced among these animals.

_Engraved for Barr's Buffon._

The large Dane, (_fig. 31._) the mastiff, and the common greyhound (_fig. 32._) though they appear different at the first sight, are nevertheless the same dog; the large Dane is no more than a plump mastiff; and the common greyhound is only the mastiff, rendered more thin and delicate by care; for there is no more difference between these three dogs than between a Dutchman, a Frenchman, and an Italian. In supposing the Irish greyhound to have been a native of France, he would have produced the Danish dog in a colder climate, and the greyhound in a warmer; and this supposition seems to be proved by the fact of the Danish dog's coming to us from the north, and the greyhound from Constantinople and the Levant. The shepherd's dog (_fig. 33._), the wolf dog (_fig. 34._) and the Siberian dog (_fig. 35._) are but the same dog, and to which indeed might be added the Lapland, the Canadian, the Hottentot, and all those dogs which have erect ears; in short they only differ from the shepherd's dog in their height, in being more or less covered with hair, and in that being more or less long, coarse or bushy. The hound (_fig. 36._) the harrier (_fig. 37._) the turnspit (_fig. 38._) the water dog (_fig. 39._) and even the spaniel (_fig. 40._) may likewise be regarded as the same dog; the greatest difference between them being the length of their legs, and the size of their ears, which in them all are long, soft, and pendent. These dogs are natives of France; and I do not think we should separate them from what is called the harrier of Bengal (_fig. 41._) as it only differs from our harrier in its colour. I am fully satisfied that this dog is not originally from Bengal, or any other part of India, and that he is not, as some have pretended, the Indian dog spoken of by the ancients, which they say was the produce of a dog and a tiger, for he has been known in Italy above 150 years, and never considered as a dog come from India but as a common harrier.[M]

[M] Canis sagax (vulgò brachus) says Aldrovande, an unius vel varii coloris sit parum refert; in Italiâ eligitur varius et maculosæ lynci persimilis, cum tamen niger color vel albus, aut fulvus non sit spernendus. _Ulyssis Aldrovandi de quadruped. digitat. vivip. lib. iii. p. 552._

_Engraved for Barr's Buffon_

England, France, Germany, &c. appear to have produced the hound, the harrier, and the turnspit, for these dogs almost immediately begin to degenerate on being carried into Persia, Turkey, and such warm climates. But the spaniels and water dogs are natives of Spain and Barbary, where the temperature of the air occasions the hair to be longer and finer than in any other country. The bull-dog which is improperly called the little Dane, since he has no resemblance whatever to the large Dane except in having the hair short; the Turkish dog and the Iceland dog (_fig. 42._) are but the same race, which being transported into a very cold climate has taken a strong covering, and in the warmer climates of Africa and India has lost its hair. The dog without hair known by the name of the Turkish dog (_fig. 43._) is improperly so called, since it is not in the temperate climates of Turkey that dogs lose their hair, but in Guinea, and in the hottest climates of the Indies that this change happens; and the Turkish dog is no other than the small Dane, which had been transported into some very warm climate, and having lost its hair was afterwards brought into Turkey, where, from its singularity, care has been taken to multiply the breed. The first of them that was seen in Europe, according to Aldrovandus, were taken in his time into Italy, where they could not multiply upon account of the climate being too cold for them. But as he gives not any description of these naked dogs, we cannot determine whether they were like those which are now called Turkish dogs, or whether we should compare them to the small Dane, since dogs of every breed lose their hair in very warm climates; and as already observed, their voices also. In some countries they become quite mute: in others they only lose the power of barking, and howl like wolves, or yelp like foxes; and by this alteration they seem to approach their natural state, for they change also in their form and instincts; they become ugly and invariably have their ears assume an erect and pointed form.

It is only in temperate climates that dogs preserve their ardour, courage, sagacity, and other natural talents, the whole of which they lose when taken into very warm climates. But, as if Nature never made any thing perfectly useless, in those countries where they cannot serve the purposes for which we employ them, they are in great estimation for food, and the Negroes prefer their flesh to that of any other animal. Dogs are sold in their markets at as dear a rate as mutton, venison, or game of any sort; a roasted dog being the most delicious feast among the negroes. It is possible that their fondness for the flesh of this animal may be occasioned by an alteration in its quality by the heat of their country, and that although extremely bad in our temperate climates it may receive a superior flavour by the warmth of theirs. But I rather think this appetite dependent more on the nature of man than on the change in the flesh of the dog, for the savages of Canada have the same partiality for dog's flesh as the Negroes; and even our missionaries sometimes eat of them without disgust. "Dogs," says Father P. Sabard Theodat, "serve in the room of mutton at feasts. I have been several times at these dog-feasts, and I own that at first they excited in me a degree of horror, but after tasting them twice, I found the flavour to be good, and not unlike pork."

In our climates the fox and the wolf are the wild animals which approach nearest the dog, particularly the shepherd's dog, which I look upon as the stock and type of the species; and as their internal conformation is wholly the same, and their external differences very trifling, I had an inclination to try whether they would breed together: I hoped at least to make them couple, and that if they did not produce fertile individuals, they would bring forth a species of mules which might participate of the nature of both. For this purpose I procured a she-wolf, of about three months old, from the woods, and reared her with a shepherd's dog of nearly the same age. They were shut up together in a pretty large yard, where no other beast could get access, and where they were provided with a shed for their retirement; they neither of them knew any individual of their own species, nor even any man but him who constantly supplied them with their victuals. In this manner they were kept together for the space of three years, without the smallest restraint. During the first year they played perpetually together, and seemed to be very fond of each other; in the second year they began to quarrel about their food, though they were always supplied with more than they could eat. The wolf always began the dispute. They had meat and bones carried to them on a wooden trencher, when the wolf, instead of seizing the meat, would drive off the dog, then take the trencher so dexterously between her teeth as to let nothing fall off, and carry away the whole; and I have frequently seen her run five or six times round the wall of the yard with it in her mouth, and only stop to take breath, devour the meat, or attack the dog if he came near. The dog was stronger than the wolf, but as he was less ferocious, we began to have some fear for his life, and therefore put him on a collar. After the second year their quarrels were sharper, and their combats more frequent, when a collar was also put upon the wolf, whom the dog began to treat more roughly. During these two years there was not the least appearance of desire in either of them; towards the end of the third they began to discover some marks of it, but it was without any signs of love, and instead of rendering them more gentle when they approached each other, they became ferocious and ungovernable. Nothing was now heard but dismal howlings mixed with cries of anger; in about three weeks they both grew very thin, and never came near each other without indications of mutual destruction. At length they grew so enraged and fought so dreadfully that the dog killed the wolf; and I was obliged to have the dog killed a few days after, because as soon as he was set at liberty, he sprung with fury on the poultry, dogs, and even men.