The werewolf, or “wild beast,” symbolizes Van Cheele’s—and society’s—limited ability to control or understand nature, and the consequent fear of the unknown this provokes. When Cunningham first tells Van Cheele that there is a wild beast in his woods, it is so far from the norm he is used to that he almost fails to register it. Van Cheele, in his arrogant and mistaken belief that his superficial knowledge of the woods is comprehensive, rejects the idea that they could contain something more dangerous than a fox or weasel. While the still-undefined wild beast of Cunningham’s story and its potential traces—the missing game, livestock, and miller’s child—represent the threat that nature can pose, this symbolism is further developed in the form of the werewolf.
Gabriel-Ernest, as a werewolf—both a human boy and a wild beast—demonstrates that nature is not only mysterious and even dangerous, but that one cannot draw a clear boundary between human life and the natural world. Even Gabriel-Ernest’s human form is characterized as wild; his eyes have “an almost tigerish gleam in them,” his “weird low laugh” is “pleasantly like a chuckle and disagreeably like snarl,” and even “Clothed, cleaned, and groomed,” he loses “none of his uncanniness in Van Cheele’s eyes.” While at the story’s conclusion it is left unclear whether or not Gabriel-Ernest really was a werewolf, and whether he really ate the Toop child and the miller’s child, Van Cheele’s faith in his knowledge of both nature and people—and what separates the two—has been deeply shaken.
The Werewolf Quotes in Gabriel-Ernest
‘There is a wild beast in your woods,’ said the artist Cunningham, as he was being driven to the station. It was the only remark he had made during the drive, but as Van Cheele had talked incessantly his companion’s silence had not been noticeable.
‘A stray fox or two and some resident weasels. Nothing more formidable,’ said Van Cheele. The artist said nothing.
‘What did you mean about a wild beast?’ said Van Cheele later, when they were on the platform.
‘Nothing. My imagination. Here is the train,’ said Cunningham.
‘Where’s your voice gone to?’ said his aunt. ‘One would think you had seen a wolf.’
Van Cheele, who was not familiar with the old saying, thought the remark rather foolish; if he had seen a wolf on his property his tongue would have been extraordinarily busy with the subject.
Cunningham was not at first disposed to be communicative.
‘My mother died of some brain trouble,’ he explained, ‘so you will understand why I am averse to dwelling on anything of an impossibly fantastic nature that I may see or think I have seen.’
‘Suddenly I became aware of a naked boy, a bather from some neighbouring pool, I took him to be, who was standing out on the bare hillside also watching the sunset. His pose was so suggestive of some wild faun of Pagan myth that I instantly wanted to engage him as a model, and in another moment I think I should have hailed him. But just then the sun dipped out of view, and all the orange and pink slid out of the landscape, leaving it cold and grey. And at the same moment an astounding thing happened – the boy vanished too!’
‘What! vanished away into nothing?’ asked Van Cheele excitedly.
‘No; that is the dreadful part of it,’ answered the artist; ‘on the open hillside where the boy had been standing a second ago, stood a large wolf, blackish in colour, with gleaming fangs and cruel, yellow eyes.’
Mrs Toop, who had eleven other children, was decently resigned to her bereavement, but Miss Van Cheele sincerely mourned her lost foundling. It was on her initiative that a memorial brass was put up in the parish church to ‘Gabriel-Ernest, an unknown boy, who bravely sacrificed his life for another.’
Van Cheele gave way to his aunt in most things, but he flatly refused to subscribe to the Gabriel-Ernest memorial.