“Ye rats, in triumph elevate your ears!Exult, ye mice! for Fate’s abhorred shearsOf Dick’s nine lives have slit the Cat-guts nine;Henceforth he mews ’midst choirs of Cats divine!”
“Ye rats, in triumph elevate your ears!Exult, ye mice! for Fate’s abhorred shearsOf Dick’s nine lives have slit the Cat-guts nine;Henceforth he mews ’midst choirs of Cats divine!”
So sings Mr. Huddesford, in a “Monody on the death of Dick, an Academical Cat,” with this motto:—
“Mi-Cat inter omnes.”Hor. Carm., Lib. i., Ode 12.
“Mi-Cat inter omnes.”Hor. Carm., Lib. i., Ode 12.
He brings his Cat, Dick, from the Flood, and consequently through Rutterkin, a Cat who was “cater-cousin to the great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother of Grimalkin, and first Cat in the Caterie of an old woman, who was tried for bewitching a daughter of the Countess of Rutland, in the beginning of the sixteenth century.” The monodist connects him with Cats of great renown in the annals of witchcraft; a science whereto they have been allied as closely as poor old women, one of whom, it appears, on the authority of an old pamphlet, entitled “Mewes from Scotland,” etc., printed in the year 1591, “confessedthat she took a Cat and christened it, etc., and that in the night following, the said Cat was conveyed into the middest of the sea by all these witches sayling in their riddles, or cives, so left the said Cat right before the towne of Leith, in Scotland. This done, there did arise such a tempest at sea, as a greater hath not been seen since. Againe it is confessed that the said christened Cat was the cause of the Kinge’s majestie’s shippe, at his coming forthe of Denmark, had a contrarie winde to the rest of the shippes then being in his companie, which thing was most straunge and true, as the Kinge’s Majestie acknowledgeth, for when the rest of the shippes had a fair and good winde, then was the winde contrarie, and altogether against his Majestie,” etc.
All sorts of Cats, according to Huddesford, lamented the death of his favourite, whom he calls “premier Cat upon the catalogue,” and who, preferring sprats to all other fish:—
“Had swallow’d down a score, without remorse,And three fat mice slew for a second course;But, while the third his grinders dyed with gore,Sudden those grinders clos’d—to grind no more!And, dire to tell! commission’d by old Nick,A catalepsy made an end of Dick.Calumnious Cats, who circulatefaux pas,And reputations maul with murderous claws;Shrill Cats, whom fierce domestic brawls delight,Cross Cats, who nothing want but teeth to bite;Starch Cats of puritanic aspect sad,And learned Cats, who talk their husbands mad;Confounded Cats, who cough, and croak, and cry,And maudlin Cats who drink eternally;Fastidious Cats, who pine for costly cates,And jealous Cats who catechise their mates;Cat prudes who, when they’re ask’d the question, squall,And ne’er give answer categorical;Uncleanly Cats, who never pare their nails,Cat-gossips, full of Canterbury tales;Cat-grandams, vex’d with asthmas and catarrhs,And superstitious Cats, who curse their stars;Cats of each class, craft, calling, and degree,Mourn Dick’s calamitous catastrophe!Yet while I chant the cause of Richard’s end,Ye sympathising Cats, your tears suspend!Then shed enough to float a dozen whales,And use for pocket handkerchiefs your tails!Ah! though thy bust adorn no sculptur’d shrine,No vase thy relics rare to fame consign;No rev’rend characters thy rank express,Nor hail thee, Dick, ‘D.D. nor F.R.S.’Though no funereal cypress shade thy tomb,For thee the wreaths of Paradise shall bloom;There, while Grimalkin’s mew her Richard greets,A thousand Cats shall purr on purple seats.E’en now I see, descending from his throne,Thy venerable Cat, O Whittington!The kindred excellence of Richard hail,And wave with joy his gratulating tail!There shall the worthies of the whiskered raceElysian mice o’er floors of sapphire chase,Midst beds of aromatic marum stray,Or raptur’d rove beside the milky way.Kittens, than eastern houris fairer seen,Whose bright eyes glisten with immortal green,Shall smooth for tabby swains their yielding fur,And, to their amorous mews, assenting purr;—There, like Alcmena’s, shall Grimalkin’s sonIn bliss repose,—his mousing labours done,Fate, envy, curs, time, tide, and traps defy,And caterwaul to all eternity.”
“Had swallow’d down a score, without remorse,And three fat mice slew for a second course;But, while the third his grinders dyed with gore,Sudden those grinders clos’d—to grind no more!And, dire to tell! commission’d by old Nick,A catalepsy made an end of Dick.Calumnious Cats, who circulatefaux pas,And reputations maul with murderous claws;Shrill Cats, whom fierce domestic brawls delight,Cross Cats, who nothing want but teeth to bite;Starch Cats of puritanic aspect sad,And learned Cats, who talk their husbands mad;Confounded Cats, who cough, and croak, and cry,And maudlin Cats who drink eternally;Fastidious Cats, who pine for costly cates,And jealous Cats who catechise their mates;Cat prudes who, when they’re ask’d the question, squall,And ne’er give answer categorical;Uncleanly Cats, who never pare their nails,Cat-gossips, full of Canterbury tales;Cat-grandams, vex’d with asthmas and catarrhs,And superstitious Cats, who curse their stars;Cats of each class, craft, calling, and degree,Mourn Dick’s calamitous catastrophe!Yet while I chant the cause of Richard’s end,Ye sympathising Cats, your tears suspend!Then shed enough to float a dozen whales,And use for pocket handkerchiefs your tails!Ah! though thy bust adorn no sculptur’d shrine,No vase thy relics rare to fame consign;No rev’rend characters thy rank express,Nor hail thee, Dick, ‘D.D. nor F.R.S.’Though no funereal cypress shade thy tomb,For thee the wreaths of Paradise shall bloom;There, while Grimalkin’s mew her Richard greets,A thousand Cats shall purr on purple seats.E’en now I see, descending from his throne,Thy venerable Cat, O Whittington!The kindred excellence of Richard hail,And wave with joy his gratulating tail!There shall the worthies of the whiskered raceElysian mice o’er floors of sapphire chase,Midst beds of aromatic marum stray,Or raptur’d rove beside the milky way.Kittens, than eastern houris fairer seen,Whose bright eyes glisten with immortal green,Shall smooth for tabby swains their yielding fur,And, to their amorous mews, assenting purr;—There, like Alcmena’s, shall Grimalkin’s sonIn bliss repose,—his mousing labours done,Fate, envy, curs, time, tide, and traps defy,And caterwaul to all eternity.”
To conclude this Chapter, an incident which took place only a few days ago, in Essex, at a village within forty miles of London, and which came under the personal knowledge of the writer, may be adduced, to show that, however witchcraft may have been laughed away—and laughter has been more effectual to rid the world of it than rope or stake—there are still to be found individuals who believe in the evil powers of hook-nosed crones, black Cats, and broom-sticks.
In a squalid hut lived a miserable dame, whose only claims to a demoniacal connection were her excessive age and her sombre Cat. Whether the neighbours thought the Cat was more of a witch than the woman, or whether they had a wholesome dread of the punishment inflicted upon murderers,it was upon theanimalthe bewitched ones determined to wreak their vengeance, and then it was that the true satanic nature of poor Puss appeared. Traps were set to catch her, but she would not be caught; ropes were purchased to hang her, but she would not bow her head to the noose; and, finally, a blunderbuss was loaded to shoot her—loaded to the very muzzle. By conjurations and enchantments, when that gun was fired, it knocked the holder backwards, and never injured the black Cat. Another man tried, with the same result, and yet another. It was evident the gun was bewitched, so Pussy’s murder was given up for the time, and, with the exception of the tip of her tail, lost in one of the traps, passed the remainder of her life happy and unmutilated.
CHAPTER X.
Of a certain Voracious Cat, some Goblin Cats, Magical Cats, and Cats of Kilkenny.
Of a certain Voracious Cat, some Goblin Cats, Magical Cats, and Cats of Kilkenny.
Of all the great big stories that have been told of Cats, that which describes the origin of Cat’s-head apples is surely the greatest biggest one. The legend runs thus:—
“The Widow Tomkins had a back room, on the second floor;Her name was on a neat brass plate on one side of the door:Companion she had only one—a beautiful Tom Cat,Who was a famous mouser, the dickens for a rat:His colour was a tabby, and his skin as soft as silk,And she would lap him every day while he lapped the milk.One day she was disturbed from sleep with double rat-tat-tat,And she went in such a hurry that she quite forgot her Cat.********Poor Thomas, soon as day-light came, walked up and down the floor,And heard the dogs’-meat woman cry “Cats’-meat” at the door;With hunger he got fairly wild, though formerly so tame—Another day passed slowly, another just the same.With hunger he so hungry was—it did so strong assail,That, although very loath, he was obliged to eat his tail.This whetted quite his appetite, and though his stump was sore,The next day he was tempted (sad) to eat a little more.To make his life the longer then, he made his body shorter,And one after the other attacked each hinder quarter.He walked about on two fore legs, alas! without beholders,’Till more and more by hunger pressed, he dined on both his shoulders.Next day he found (the cannibal!) to eating more a check,Although he tried, and did reach all he could reach of his neck.But as he could not bite his ear, all mournfully he cried,—Towards the door he turned his eyes, cocked up his nose, and died.The widow did at last return, and oh! how she did stare,She guessed the tale as soon as she saw Tom’s head lying there.Quite grief sincerely heart-felt as she owned his fate a hard’un,She buried it beneath an apple-tree just down her garden.So mark what strange effects from little causes will appear,The fruit of this said tree was changed, and strangely, too, next year.The neighbours say (’tis truth, for they’re folks who go to chapels),This Cat’s head was the sole first cause of all the Cat’s-head apples!”
“The Widow Tomkins had a back room, on the second floor;Her name was on a neat brass plate on one side of the door:Companion she had only one—a beautiful Tom Cat,Who was a famous mouser, the dickens for a rat:His colour was a tabby, and his skin as soft as silk,And she would lap him every day while he lapped the milk.One day she was disturbed from sleep with double rat-tat-tat,And she went in such a hurry that she quite forgot her Cat.********Poor Thomas, soon as day-light came, walked up and down the floor,And heard the dogs’-meat woman cry “Cats’-meat” at the door;With hunger he got fairly wild, though formerly so tame—Another day passed slowly, another just the same.With hunger he so hungry was—it did so strong assail,That, although very loath, he was obliged to eat his tail.This whetted quite his appetite, and though his stump was sore,The next day he was tempted (sad) to eat a little more.To make his life the longer then, he made his body shorter,And one after the other attacked each hinder quarter.He walked about on two fore legs, alas! without beholders,’Till more and more by hunger pressed, he dined on both his shoulders.Next day he found (the cannibal!) to eating more a check,Although he tried, and did reach all he could reach of his neck.But as he could not bite his ear, all mournfully he cried,—Towards the door he turned his eyes, cocked up his nose, and died.The widow did at last return, and oh! how she did stare,She guessed the tale as soon as she saw Tom’s head lying there.Quite grief sincerely heart-felt as she owned his fate a hard’un,She buried it beneath an apple-tree just down her garden.So mark what strange effects from little causes will appear,The fruit of this said tree was changed, and strangely, too, next year.The neighbours say (’tis truth, for they’re folks who go to chapels),This Cat’s head was the sole first cause of all the Cat’s-head apples!”
THE CAT AND THE CONJUROR.Page 187.
Gottfried Heller, inDie Leute von Seldwyla, tells a droll story. This is an abridgement of a popular author’s version of it, published some years ago:—
“One day, once upon a time, or thereabouts, the witch-finder of a certain Swiss town—himself secretly a wizard—was taking his afternoon’s walk, when he came across a Tom Cat, looking very thin and miserable. This Cat had once been the chief favourite of a rich old lady, who had trained him up in luxurious living. Now she was dead, and Tom’s happy days were over: he was as shaggy and meagre, as he had formerly been sleek and plump. Now, you must know that Cats’ grease was, in those days, an invaluable ingredient for certain magical preparations, provided the Cat to whom it belonged willingly made a donation of it. This proviso rendered good efficient Cats’ grease an exceedingly rare commodity; for though there might be no great difficulty in finding a fat Cat, to find one willing to part with its fat was, of course, difficult enough.
“Here, however, was an animal in desperate circumstances, who might be accessible to reason; therefore, says the magician—
“‘How much will you take for your fat?’
“‘Why, I haven’t got any,’ replied Tom, who, to tell the truth, was as thin as a hurdle.
“‘You may have, though, if you say the word,’ said the magician; ‘and I’ll tell you how.’
“You see, he knew from experience that Tom was a Cat who was capable of making flesh, for he had known him as round as a dumpling; so he made this bargain:—He offered Tom a whole month’s luxurious living on condition that at the expiration of that time he should voluntarily lay down his life and yield up all the fat he had acquired during the four weeks. Of course Tom agreed, and the contract was signed on the spot. The apartment provided for Tom’s lodging was ’fitted up as an artificial landscape. A little wood was perched on the top of a little mountain, which rose from the banks of a little lake. On the branches of the trees were perched dainty birds, all roasted, and emitting a most savoury odour. From the cavities of the mountain peered forth sundry baked mice, all seasoned with delicious stuffing and exquisitely larded with bacon. The lake consisted of the newest milk, with a small fish or two at the bottom. Thus, to the enjoyment of the epicure, was added the excitement of imaginary sportsmanship. Tom ate his fill, and more, and soon became as fat as themagician could wish, but before long he became thoughtful. The month had nearly expired; at the end he was to die if fat enough. Ah! a bright thought, he would get thin again. With a wondrous strength of mind he refrained from eating the luxuries provided, took plenty of exercise on the house-tops, and kept himself in excellent health, but much thinner than suited the wizard’s fancy.
“Before long, this gentleman remonstrated with Tom, pointing out to him very plainly, that he was bound by all the laws of honour to get fat by the month’s end. To this, Tom had little to urge of any moment, and the magician informed him that he would kill him at the appointed period, let him be in what condition he might. Tom, therefore, would gain nothing by being thin, and it was hoped that his good taste, unchecked by other considerations, would induce him to make up for lost time. Time rolled on, Tom behaved worse than ever, and when the fatal day arrived ‘he looked in worse condition than ever—a dissipated, abandoned, shaggy scamp, without an ounce on his bones.’ The wizard could not stand this, so he thrust Tom into an empty coop and fed him by violence. In course of time, the wizard was satisfied, and began to sharpen hisknife; but no sooner did Tom perceive this act, than he began to utter such singular expressions of contrition, that his proprietor paused to ask him to explain them. The Cat in wild terms alluded to a certain sum of ten thousand florins lying at the bottom of a well, and the wizard wanted to know more about them. It appeared then, that Tom’s late mistress had thrown the sum he named to the bottom of a well, and informed her Cat that ‘should he find a perfectly beautiful and a penniless maiden, whom a perfectly honest man was inclined to wed in spite of her poverty, then he should empty the contents of the well as a marriage portion.’
“Of course this tale was false. The money existed where Tom had described, but it had been ill-gotten gold, with a curse upon it. But the wizard nibbled at the bait, put a chain round Tom’s neck, and went to have a look at the treasure. There it was, sure enough, shining under the water.
“‘Are you quite sure that there are exactly ten thousand florins?’ asked the magician.
“‘I’ve never been down to see,’ replied Tom; ‘I was obliged to take the old lady’s word for it.’
“‘But where shall I find a wife?’ asked the wizard.
“‘I’ll find you one,’ said Tom.
“‘Will you?’
“‘To be sure. Tear up that contract, though, to begin with.’
“The wizard, not without grumbling, drew from his pocket the fatal paper, which Tom no sooner perceived than he pounced on it and swallowed it whole, making at the same time the reflection that he had never before tasted so delicious a morsel in his life.
“In the neighbourhood dwelt an old woman, who was a witch—one of the ugliest old women you ever saw, who every night flew up the chimney on a broom-stick, and played Meg’s diversions by the light of the moon. This lady had an owl, who was a bird of loose principles, and had been an associate of Tom’s in his gay days. This bright couple consulted together how they should persuade the ancient maiden to marry the old man.
“‘She never will,’ said the owl.
“‘Then we must make her; but how?’
“‘We must catch her first, and take her prisoner, and that is to be done easily enough, with a net, spun by a man of sixty years old, who has never set eyes on the face of woman.’
“‘Where are we to find him?’
“‘Just round the corner: he has been blind from his birth.’
“When the net had been procured, they set it in the chimney, and presently caught the old lady, and after much trouble they starved her into compliance. Then, by magical art, she put on an appearance of youth and beauty, and the wizard married her in an ecstacy of delight; but was he not in a fury when, evening approaching, she resumed her pristine ugliness. And was he not disgusted at his bride, in spite of the treasure she had brought him. As for Tom, like many bad people, he lived happy ever afterwards.”
Here is an abridgement of the famous tale ofPuss in Boots:—
“A miller died, leaving his youngest son nothing but a Cat: the poor young fellow complained bitterly of his fate; the Cat bade him be of good cheer, and procure a pair of boots and a bag: the youth contrived to do so. The first attempt Puss made was to go into a warren, in which there was a great number of rabbits. He put some bran and parsley into his bag; and then, stretching himself out at full length, as if he were dead, he waited for some young rabbits, who as yet knew nothing of the cunning tricks of the world, to come and get into the bag. Scarcely had he laid down, before he succeeded as well as could be wished. A giddyyoung rabbit crept into the bag, and the Cat immediately drew the strings, and killed it without mercy. Puss, proud of his prey, hastened directly to the palace, where he asked to speak to the King. On being shown into the apartment of his Majesty, he made a low bow, and said:—“I have brought you, Sire, this rabbit from the warren of my Lord the Marquis of Carabas, who commanded me to present it to your Majesty, with the assurance of his respects.” One day, the Cat having heard that the King intended to take a ride that morning by the river’s side with his daughter, who was the most beautiful Princess in the world, he said to his master:—“Take off your clothes, and bathe yourself in the river, just in the place I shall show you, and leave the rest to me.” The Marquis did exactly as he was desired, without being able to guess at what the Cat intended. While he was bathing, the King passed by, and Puss directly called out, as loudly as he could bawl:—“Help! help! My Lord Marquis of Carabas is in danger of being drowned!” The King hearing the cries, and recognising the Cat, ordered his attendants to go directly to the assistance of my Lord Marquis of Carabas; and the cunning Cat having hid his master’s clothes under a large stone, the King commanded theofficers of his wardrobe to fetch him the handsomest suit it contained. The King’s daughter was mightily taken with his appearance, and the Marquis of Carabas had no sooner cast upon her two or three respectful glances, than she became violently in love with him. The Cat, enchanted to see how well his scheme was likely to succeed, ran before to a meadow that was reaping, and said to the reapers:—“Good people, if you do not tell the King, who will soon pass this way, that the meadow you are reaping belongs to my Lord Marquis of Carabas, you shall be chopped as small as mince-meat.” The King did not fail to ask the reapers to whom the meadow belonged? “To my Lord Marquis of Carabas,” said they all at once; for the threats of the Cat had terribly frightened them. Puss at length arrived at a stately castle that belonged to an Ogre, whom he first persuaded to assume the form of a mouse, and then cleverly gobbled him up before he could get back to his proper shape again. The King’s party soon after arrived. The Cat said the castle was his master’s; and the King was so much charmed with the amiable qualities and noble fortune of the Marquis of Carabas, and the young Princess too had fallen so violently in love with him, that when the King had partaken of acollation, he said to the Marquis:—“It will be your own fault, my Lord Marquis of Carabas, if you do not soon become my son-in-law.” The Marquis received the intelligence with a thousand respectful acknowledgments, accepted the honour conferred upon him, and married the Princess that very day. The Cat became a great lord, and never after pursued rats, except for his own amusement.
I think, too, that the famous story of theWhite Catshould also find a place in this little volume:—
There once was a King, the legend says, who was growing old, and it was told to him that his three sons wished to govern the kingdom. The old King, who did not wish to give up his power just yet, thought the best way to prevent his sons from taking his throne was to send them out to seek for adventures; so he called them all around him, and said:—
“My sons, go away and travel for a year; and he of you who brings me the most beautiful little dog, shall have the kingdom, and be King after me.”
Then the three Princes started on the journey; but it is of the youngest of the three that I have now to tell. He travelled for many days, and at last found himself, one evening, at the door of asplendid castle, but not a man or woman was to be seen. A number of hands, with no bodies to them, appeared: two hands took off the Prince’s cloak, two others seated him in a chair, another pair brought a brush to brush his hair, and several pairs waited on him at supper. Then some more hands came and put him to bed in a fine chamber, where he slept all night, but still no one appeared. The next morning, the hands brought him into a splendid hall, where there sat on a throne a large White Cat, who made him sit beside her, and expressed herself glad to see him. Next day, the Prince and the White Cat went out hunting together: the Cat was mounted on a fine spirited monkey, and seemed very fond of the Prince, who, on his part, was delighted with her wit and cleverness.
Instead of dogs, Cats hunted for them. These creatures ran with great agility after rats, and mice, and birds, catching and killing a great number of them; and sometimes the White Cat’s monkey would climb a tree, with the White Cat on his back, after a bird, a mouse, or a squirrel. This pleasant life went on for a long time: every day the White Cat became more fond of the Prince, while, on his part, the Prince could not help lovingthe poor Cat, who was so kind and attentive to him. At last, the time drew near when the Prince was to return home, and he had not thought of looking for a little dog; but the Cat gave him a casket, and told him to open this before the King, and all would be well; so the Prince journeyed home, taking with him an ugly mongrel cur. When the brothers saw this, they laughed secretly to each other, and thought themselves quite secure, so far as their younger brother was concerned. They had, with infinite pains, procured each of them a very rare and beautiful little dog, and each thought himself quite sure to get the prize. When the day came on which the dogs were to be shown, each of the two elder Princes produced a beautiful little dog, on a silk velvet cushion: no one could judge which was the prettier. The youngest now opened his casket, and found a walnut: he cracked this walnut, and out of the walnut sprang a little tiny dog, of exquisite beauty. Still the old King would not give up his kingdom. He told the young Princes they must bring him home a piece of cambric so fine that it could be threaded through the eye of a needle; and so they went away in search of such a piece of cambric. Again the youngest Prince passed a year with the White Cat,and again the Cat gave him a walnut when the time came for him to return home. The three Princes were summoned before their father, who produced a needle. The first and second Princes brought a piece of cambric which would almost, but not quite, go through the needle’s eye. The youngest Prince broke open his walnut-shell: he found inside it a small nut-shell, and then a cherry-stone, and then a grain of wheat, and then a grain of millet, and in this grain of millet a piece of cambric four hundred yards long, which passed easily through the eye of the needle. But the old King said:—
“He who brings the most beautiful lady shall have the kingdom.”
The Prince went back to the White Cat, and told her what his father had said. She replied:—
“Cut off my head and my tail.”
At last he consented: instantly the Cat was transformed into a beautiful Princess; for she had been condemned by a wicked fairy to appear as a Cat, till a young Prince should cut off her head and tail. The Prince and Princess went to the old King’s court, and she was far more beautiful than the ladies brought by the other two Princes. But she did not want the kingdom, for she had four ofher own already. One of these she gave to each of the elder brothers of the young Prince, and over the other two she ruled with her husband, for the young Prince married her, and they lived happily together all their lives.
In Mr. Morley’sFairy Tales, there is a funny passage:—“‘I wonder,’ said a sparrow, ‘what the eagles are about, that they don’t fly away with the Cats? And now I think of it, a civil question cannot give offence.’ So the sparrow finished her breakfast, went to the eagle, and said:—
“‘May it please your royalty, I see you and your race fly away with the birds and the lambs that do no harm. But there is not a creature so malignant as a Cat; she prowls about our nests, eats up our young, and bites off our own heads. She feeds so daintily that she must be herself good eating. She is lighter to carry than a bird, and you would get a famous grip in her loose fur. Why do you not feed upon Cat?’
“‘Ah!’ said the eagle, ‘there is sense in your question. I had the worms to hear this morning, asking me why I did not breakfast upon sparrows. Do I see a morsel of worm’s skin on your beak, my child?’
“The sparrow cleaned his bill upon his bosom,and said:—‘I should like to see the worm who came with that enquiry.’
“‘Come forward, worm,’ the eagle said. But when the worm appeared, the sparrow snapped him up, and ate him. Then he went on with his argument against the Cats.”
Everybody has heard of the Kilkenny Cats, and how they fought in a saw-pit with such ferocious determination, that when the battle was over, nothing was remaining of either combatant except his tail. Of course, we none of us suppose that the tale is true, but some writers think that the account of the mutual destruction of the contending Cats was an allegory designed to typify the utter ruin to which centuries of litigation and embroilment on the subject of conflicting rights and privileges tended to reduce the respective exchequers of the rival municipal bodies of Kilkenny and Irishtown—separate corporations existing within the liberties of one city, and the boundaries of the respective jurisdiction of which had never been marked out or defined by an authority to which either was willing to bow. The desperate struggles for supremacy of these parish worthies beganA.D.1377, and they fought, as only vestrymen can fight, a little over three hundred years, by the end of which time there was, as youmay suppose, very little left of them but their tails, for, of course, there was a disinterested third person to whom the affairs were referred for arbitration, in the old way that the Cats appealed to the monkey upon the great cheese question—who swallowed his huge mouthful. In the end it would appear that all the property of either side was mortgaged, and bye-laws were passed by each party that their respective officers should be content with the dignity of their station, and forego all hope of salary till the suit at law with the other “pretended corporation” should be terminated.
Let this be as it may, one thing is certain: Kilkenny Cats are quite as amiable now-a-days as the Cats of any other city in Great Britain.
But there is another story of a great Cat fight in the same neighbourhood. One night in the summer time, all the Cats in the city and county of Kilkenny were absent from their homes, and next morning a plain near the city was strewn with thousands of slain Cats; and it was reported that almost all the Cats in Ireland had joined in the fight, as was shown by the collars of some of the dead bearing the names of places in all quarters of the island. The cause of the quarrel is not stated, but there are yet men alive who knew persons since dead,who actually inspected the field—at least so they say.
Time out of mind the Cat has figured largely in our nursery annals—from the days ofHeigh Diddle-Diddleand theHouse that Jack Builtto the present moment. There is some waggishness, by the way, in Mr. Blanchard’s version of the second mentioned rhyme, printed, as a sort of argument, in the book of the Drury Lane Pantomime:—
“Anon, with velvet foot and Tarquin strides,Subtle Grimalkin to his quarry glides;Grimalkin grim, that slew the fierce Rodent,Whose tooth insidious Johann’s sackcloth rent.Lo! how the deep-mouthed canine foe’s assault,That vest th’ avenger of the stolen maltStored in the hallowed precincts of that hallThat rose complete at Jack’s creative call.Here stalks th’ impetuous cow with crumpled horn,Thereon th’ exacerbating hound was torn,Who bayed the feline slaughter-beast that slewThe rat predacious, whose keen fangs ran throughThe textile fibres that involved the grainThat lay in Han’s inviolate domain.”
“Anon, with velvet foot and Tarquin strides,Subtle Grimalkin to his quarry glides;Grimalkin grim, that slew the fierce Rodent,Whose tooth insidious Johann’s sackcloth rent.Lo! how the deep-mouthed canine foe’s assault,That vest th’ avenger of the stolen maltStored in the hallowed precincts of that hallThat rose complete at Jack’s creative call.Here stalks th’ impetuous cow with crumpled horn,Thereon th’ exacerbating hound was torn,Who bayed the feline slaughter-beast that slewThe rat predacious, whose keen fangs ran throughThe textile fibres that involved the grainThat lay in Han’s inviolate domain.”
The Cat is one of the principal of thedramatis personæin Mr. D’Arcy Thompson’s drollNursery Nonsense; and some of the most ingenious pictures Charles Bennett ever drew are to be found in hisNine Lives of a Cat. There is some good fun forlittle folks in a small book calledTales from Catland, with some masterly pictures from the graceful pencil of Mr. Harrison Weir; and there is another work calledCat and Dog, which I would recommend to all young readers. Of some other children’s books, in which Pussy takes a prominent part, it behoves not the writer of this volume to say very much, for obvious reasons. I may, however, remark, that though a great admirer of the feline race, the artist who illustrated the works in question and this, has very limited notions concerning the way in which a Cat should be drawn, and has found, after all his trouble, that under his hand Pussy transferred to wood is very wooden indeed. It is some consolation to that artist, however, to reflect that Hogarth’s Cats are anything but good ones. By the way, I always wonder when I look at that picture of the “Actress’s Dressing Room” in the barn, whether poor strollers were ever driven to such an expedient as that of cutting a Cat’s tail for the blood, and if so, how was it used? In George Cruikshank’s “Bottle,” do you remember in the first scene how happily the Cat and Kittens are playing on the hearth, and how in the next the kitten has disappeared, and the Cat, a poor half-starved wretch, is sniffing wistfully at an emptyplate upon the table? The change in Pussy’s fortune is a clever touch; but of all Cat pictures, one of the same artist’s illustrations to the Brothers Mayhew’sGreatest Plague of Lifeis that to be remembered; I mean the one called “The Cat did it,” in the chapter about Mrs. Burgess’s Tom. There are a score and more of wonderful Cat stories in theMünchener Bilderbögen, and in other German books; and who of those who have seen them can forget Grandville’s extraordinary animals, so like Cats, and yet so human. There were some pictures that Charles Bennett drew, showing the gradual change of a human face into that of a beast, in which it was astonishing to note how easy and with what a few lines the transformation could be effected.
I might make this book a great deal longer (and more wearisome, perhaps) if I gave even the briefest outline of all the stories I have come upon during my long search; but I believe that those to be found in these pages are among the best extant.
CHAPTER XI.
Of Pussy Poorly, and of some Curiosities of the Cats’-meat Trade.“So sickly Cats neglect their fur attire,And sit and mope beside the kitchen fire.”Bombastes Furioso.
Of Pussy Poorly, and of some Curiosities of the Cats’-meat Trade.
“So sickly Cats neglect their fur attire,And sit and mope beside the kitchen fire.”Bombastes Furioso.
“So sickly Cats neglect their fur attire,And sit and mope beside the kitchen fire.”Bombastes Furioso.
Awriter on Cats, when speaking of the necessity of administering physic in certain cases, says that the bare thought of so doing is sufficient to daunt at least nine-tenths of the lady Cat-owners of the kingdom; and gives these directions to assist the timid fair one in her arduous task:—
“Have ready a large cloth and wrap the patient therein, wisping the cloth round and round her body, so that every part of her, except the head, is well enveloped. Any one may then hold it between their knees, while you complete the operation. Put on a pair of stout gloves, and then with a firm hand open the animal’s mouth wide!”
Poor Pussy! From the formidable nature of these preparations, one would almost fancy that it was a full-grown tigress about to be doctored, and its iron mouth required a firm hand to wrench apart the jaws. To such inexperienced ladies as could require these directions, the writer’s further advice not to pour down the Cat’s throat too much at a time, comes very seasonably, but I am not too sure that Pussy will not be choked for all that. When properly managed, says he, “a sick Cat may be made to take pills or any other drug without risk of a severe scratching on your part, and danger of a dislocated neck on the part of suffering Grimalkin.”
I can readily understand that there is small fear of the Cat’s claws penetrating through five or six folds of stout calico, but about the safety of its neck I have my doubts. One, indeed, feels almost inclined to add, as a further safeguard for the trembling doctor, a suit of chain-mail or a diver’sdress, such as the man wears who braves the dangers of the tank at the Polytechnic.
Seriously speaking, a lady who is kind to her domestic pets will have no trouble in giving them medicine. When they are Kittens, they should be taught to lie upon their backs, and in this attitude, with the head raised, the physic is easily enough administered. A sick Cat, too, does not fly from those for whom it has an affection; on the contrary, I have always known Cats to come for sympathy to those who nurse and feed them. Administer the physic with a teaspoon, if liquid, and be most careful when the dose has been given, to gently wash from the Cat’s face or breast any drop of the stuff that may have fallen there, so that she may not find the nasty taste lingering about her when she goes to clean herself, as otherwise she has the unpleasantness of the physic long after the doses have been discontinued.
These are some of the complaints from which Cats suffer, and the best methods to be adopted for their cure:—
A cat is sometimes affected by a sort of distemper which attacks it between the first and third month of its life. The Cat or Kitten, when thus suffering, refuses its food, seems to be sensitiveof cold, and creeps close to the fire or hides itself in any warm corner. A mild aperient—small doses of brimstone, for instance—should be administered. Whilst ill, feed the Cat upon light biscuit spread with butter. A little manna is a good thing if the Cat will eat it, and the animal should be kept warm and quiet. If, however, you see the sick Cat frequently vomiting, the vomit being a bright yellow frothy liquid, be very careful of the animal should she be a pet, for then the distemper is taking an ugly turn, and requires special attention. Probably before long the sickness will change to diarrhœa, which in the end will turn to dysentery if prompt measures be not taken. When the vomiting first comes on, give the Cat half a teaspoonful of common salt in about two teaspoonsful of water, as an emetic, for the purpose of clearing the stomach. Then to stop the sickness, give half a spoonful of melted beef marrow free from skin. If this is not found sufficient, the dose may be repeated.
Cats just reaching their full growth are liable to have fits. Male cats almost always have, at this time, a slight attack of delirium. When coming on, it may easily be known by an uneasy restlessness and a wildness of the eyes. In bad cases, the Cat, when seized with delirium, will rush about with staringeyes, sometimes fly at the window, but more often fly from your presence and hide itself in the darkest place it can find. If it have a regular fit, with frothing at the mouth, quivering limbs, etc., as in a human being so attacked, Lady Cust recommends that one of the ears be slightly slit with a sharp pair of scissors in the thin part of the ear. You must then have some warm water ready and hold the ear in it, gently rubbing and encouraging the blood to flow, a few drops even will afford relief. During the attack, the Cat does not feel, nor does it resist in the least, therefore the most timid lady might perform this little operation without fear. But where the symptoms are not so violent, a gentle aperient may do all that is required. A good alterative for them is half a teaspoonful of common salt in two teaspoonfuls of water, as mentioned above, though in this case it will not cause vomiting. Female Cats, Lady Cust says, are less subject to fits of delirium, and never have them after they have once nursed young ones, unless frightened into them, which all Cats easily are. In this, however, I think she is mistaken, for I have had a Cat so affected when nursing her second litter of Kittens. Another Cat of mine was seized with delirium, rushed suddenly out of the kitchen, and disappeared mysteriously for three days.At the end of that time, the servant going to light the fire under the copper, the animal crawled forth from the copper hole very thin and weak, but otherwise seemingly cured of its strange complaint. All cats are subject to diarrhœa, and the signs of their so suffering are to be found in dull eyes, staring coat and neglected toilet, and the animal is very likely to die of the complaint unless the proper remedies be applied. As soon as it is discovered, give the Cat some luke warm new milk, with a piece of fresh mutton suet (the suet the size of a walnut to a teacupful of milk) melted, and mixed in it. If the patient be too ill to lap, administer the mixture a teaspoonful every two hours. Take care not to give it too much so as to make it sick. If there is no bile, you should give the Cat (full grown) a grain and a half of the grey powder used in such cases. If the diarrhœa still continue, Lady Cust suggests that a teaspoonful of the chalk mixture used by human beings, be tried, with seven or eight drops of tincture of rhubarb, and four or five of laudanum, every few hours until the complaint ceases. Cats will continue ill, her Ladyship says, for a few days, their eyes even fixed, but still with watching and care they may be cured. A teaspoonful at a time of pure meat gravy should be given now andthen, but not until nearly two hours after medicine, to keep up the strength, until appetite returns.
There is a disease resembling the chicken-pox, which appears in the shape of eruptions upon a Cat’s head and throat. It is, in these cases, advisable to rub the bad places with flour of brimstone mixed with fresh hog’s lard, without salt. The Cat will lick some of this ointment off, and swallow it, which operation will assist the cure. Much of the necessity for physic is, however, avoided when the Cat is able to get some grass to eat, without which, I believe, it can never be in good health. I have a Tom Cat, which seems to be particularly partial to ribbon grass, but this, I should say, is quite an epicurean taste of his. According to Lady Cust, who is the greatest, indeed, the only authority on such matters, the hair swallowed by the Cat in licking itself, and conveyed into the stomach and intestines, where it remains in balls or long rolls, causing dulness and loss of appetite, is digested easily by adhering to the long grass; or if the mass is too large, as is often the case in the moulting season, especially with Angora Cats, it will be seen thrown up: long rolls of hair with grass; perfectly exclusive of any other substance. But, again, the Cat itself seems to know that grass is very needfulfor the preservation of its health. The food and prey it eats often disorder the stomach. On such occasions, it eats a little grass, which, however, goes no further than the commencement of the œsophagus; this is irritated by the jagged and saw-like margins of the blades of grass, and this irritation is, by a reflex action, communicated to the stomach, which, by a spasmodic action, rejects its vitiated secretion.
It is very cruel and injurious to the mother to destroy the whole litter of kittens at once, unless it has some feline friend or relation to relieve it of its milk: one of its grown-up children, or its husband, will generally do so, without much persuasion. If deprived of this resource, however, the frequent destruction of the kittens will, in all probability, cause cancers, and in the end kill the Cat. If the mother die, and the kittens be left orphans, they may be easily reared by hand. Feed them with new milk, sweetened with brown sugar—plain milk is too astringent. To imitate the Cat’s lick, wipe the kittens with a nearly dry sponge, and soap and water. A good way to feed them is to use a well-saturated fine sponge, which the kittens will suck. The most common way, however, is to pour the milk gently down the throat from a pointed spoon.I knew a lady who fed a pet kitten from her mouth, and it grew up extraordinarily affectionate and sagacious. But I have seen many cases where a Cat has conceived a strong affection towards a person who has never fed it, and scarcely ever noticed it.
I lately heard, on good authority, of a case of a lady, one of whose Cats came every morning to her bed-room door, at six o’clock precisely, making so much noise mewing, that it would awaken every one in the house, if she did not hasten to get up, open the door, and shake hands with it, after which ceremony it went quietly away. But, as a rule, these animals do not tax their masters’ good nature to such an extent: a pat on the head now and then, a kind word now and again, nothing more is required.
Mr. Kingston says:—“I was calling on a delightful and most clever kind old lady, who showed me a very beautiful Tabby Cat, coiled up on a chair before the fire.
“‘Seventeen years ago,’ said she, ‘that Cat’s mother had a litter: they were all ordered to be drowned, with the exception of one; the servant brought me that one; it was a tortoiseshell. ‘No,’ I said, ‘that will always be looking dirty; I willchoose another;’ so I put my hand into the basket, and drew forth this tabby. The tabby has stuck by me ever since. When she came to have a family, she disappeared, but the rain did not, for it came pouring down through the ceiling, and it was discovered that Dame Tabby had made a lying-in hospital for herself in the thatched roof of our house. The damage she did cost us several pounds; so we asked a bachelor friend, who had a good cook, fond of Cats, to take care of tabby the next time she gave signs of having a family, as we knew that she would be well fed. We sent her in a basket, well covered up, and she was carefully shut into a room, where she soon was able to exhibit a progeny of young mewlings. More than the usual number were allowed to survive; and it was thought that she would remain quietly where she was; but, at the first opportunity, she made her escape, and down she came all the length of the village; and I heard her mewing at my bed-room door, early in the morning, to be let in. When I had stroked her back, and spoken kindly to her, off she went to look after her nurselings. From that day, every morning down she came regularly to see me, and would not go away till she had been spoken to and caressed. Having satisfied herselfthat I was alive and well, back she would go again. She never failed to pay me that one visit in the morning, and never came twice in the day, till she had weaned her kittens, and then every day she came back, and nothing would induce her to go away again: I had not the heart to force her back. From that day to this she has always slept at the door of my room.’ Never was there more evident affection exhibited in the feline race.”
With respect to a Cat’s food, I think it should not have too much meat; and I should prefer feeding it on scraps that have come from the table, to buying Cats’ meat. If their taste be consulted upon the subject, almost all Cats are passionately fond of lights, particularly as they grow old; and one elderly red-haired gentleman in particular, with whom I had once the honour of being acquainted, was in the habit of watching the pot whilst the lights boiled, with lively interest, sniffing the steam when the saucepan-lid was raised, and licking his lips in anticipation of joys to come, when he could gorge himself to his heart’s content. As he was a very old gentleman, and enjoyed the privileges of age, he had unlimited lights supplied to him; and it was his habit to eat as much as he could possibly swallow, and then lie down within sight of theplate, and catch uneasy snatches of sleep, waiting until he could go on again with his orgie, but racked meanwhile by horrid fears lest anyone else should get at his food, and only dozing off, as the saying is, one eye at a time. This same red Cat one day, when the servants were out, and I was alone in the garden, came to me mewing in a strange sort of way, looking, as I thought, very anxious, and running backwards and forwards between me and the house. At last, following him as he seemed to wish me to do, I accompanied him to the street-door, where I found the butcher’s boy waiting with the lights.
In giving a Cat the scrapings of dirty plates, it is as well, if you value the animal’s life, to remove the fish bones, should there be any among the leavings. Very frequently, as most Cats bolt their food, they get a bone sticking in their mouth or throat, of which they are unable to relieve themselves, and suffer much pain without their owner’s guessing at the cause of their discomforture. A lady in a house I was staying at, had a Cat that got what was afterwards supposed to be a fish bone sticking in its mouth, far at the back, in such a way that it was unable to close its jaws. For two or three days it remained in this state, refusing all food, and lookingin a woeful plight; indeed, we afterwards supposed that it could not even lap; but at the time, although we made several examinations of the sufferer, we could not discover what ailed it. At last, some one suggested seeking the aid of a veterinary surgeon, whose dignity seemed just a little bit ruffled by being called in for a Cat, and who, when he did come, did not bring his instruments with him. Nevertheless, he found out what was wrong, and forcing open the Cat’s jaws, put in his finger to loosen what he called a fish-bone. Being rather fearful of getting a bite, he was somewhat hasty, and the bone jerked out, flew into the air, as he released his hold of the Cat’s head, whereupon the Cat caught the bone as it fell, and instantly swallowed it, leaving us until this day in the dark as to the size and nature of the bone, and indeed, rather doubtful whether it was a bone at all.
In cases where the Cat is accidentally crippled, or should be so ill that it were better to put it out of its misery at once, the best plan is to send for a chemist, who for a small sum would administer the poison upon your own premises. I have known cases where men servants entrusted to take the animal to the chemist’s shop, have thrown it down in the street, or killed it with unnecessary torturethemselves, and pocketed the money they should have paid for the poisoning.
To administer the poison yourself is by no means a wise course, as probably you may give too much or too little, and in either case defeat your object. I know for a fact, that two medical students once barbarously practising experiments with poison on an unhappy Cat, twice poisoned the animal, as they supposed, and once actually buried it, of course not very deeply, after which it recovered again, and crawled into the house, rather to their alarm, as you may suppose, as on the second occasion it happened in the dead of night.
Those unable to procure the assistance of a doctor or chemist, can easily drown a Cat by putting it into a pail of water, and pressing another pail down upon it, care being taken of course to handle the Cat gently, so as not to alarm it before the last moment.
Concerning the Cats’-meat trade, Mr. Henry Mayhew gives many curious particulars, of which the following are some of the most amusing:—
“The Cats’-meat carriers frequently sell as much as ten pennyworth to one person, and there has been a customer to the extent of sixteen pennyworth. This person, a black woman, used to getout on the roof of the house, and throw it to the Cats on the tiles, by which conduct she brought so many stray Cats round about the neighbourhood, that the parties in the vicinity complained of the nuisance. The noise of about a hundred strange Cats, a little before feeding-time, about ten in the morning, was tremendous; and when the meat was thrown to them, the fighting and confusion was beyond description.
“There was also a woman in Islington who used to have fourteen pounds of meat a-day. The person who supplied her was often paid two and three pounds at a time. She had often as many as thirty Cats at a time. Every stray Cat that came she would take in and support.
“The carriers give a great deal of credit; indeed, they take but little ready money. On some days they do not come home with more than 2s.One with a middling walk, pays for his meat 7s.6d.per day; for this he has half-a-hundred weight: this produces him as much as 11s.6d., so that his profit is 4s., which, I am assured, is about a fair average of the earnings of the trade. One carrier is said to have amassed £1,000 at the business: he usually sold from 1½ to 2 cwt. every morning, so that his profits were generally from 16s.to £1 per day. Butthe trade is much worse now: there are so many at it, they say, that there is barely a living for any.”
A carrier assured Mr. Mayhew he seldom went less than thirty, and frequently forty miles, through the streets every day. The best districts are among the houses of tradesmen, mechanics, and labourers. The coachmen in the mews at the back of the squares are very good customers.
“‘The work lays thicker there,’ said one carrier. ‘Old maids are bad, though very plentiful customers: they cheapen the carriers down so that they can scarcely live at the business: they will pay one half-penny, and owe another, and forget that after a day or two.’ The Cats’-meat dealers generally complain of their losses from bad debts: their customers require credit frequently to the extent of £1.
“‘One party owes me 15s.now,’ said a carrier, ‘and many 10s.; in fact, very few people pay ready money for the meat.’
“The best days for the Cats’-meat business are Mondays, Tuesdays, and Saturdays. A double quantity of meat is sold on the Saturday; and on that day and Monday and Tuesday, the weekly customers generally pay.”
“The supply of food for Cats and Dogs is far greater than may be generally thought.
“‘Why, sir,’ said one of the dealers, ‘can you tell me how many people’s in London?’ On Mr Mayhew’s replying, upwards of two millions; ‘I don’t know nothing whatever,’ said the man, ‘about millions, but I think there’s a Cat to every ten people, aye, and more than that; and so, sir, you can reckon.’”
Mr. Mayhew told him this gave a total of 200,000 Cats in London, but the number of inhabited houses in the Metropolis was 100,000 more than this, and though there was not a Cat to every house, still, as many lodgers as well as householders kept Cats, he added, “that he thought the total number of Cats in London might be taken at the same number as the inhabited houses, or 300,000 in all.”
“‘There is not near half so many Dogs as Cats; I must know, for they all knows me, and I serves about 200 Cats and 70 dogs. Mine’s a middling trade, but some does far better. Some Cats has a hap’orth a day, some every other day; werry few can afford a penn’orth, but times is inferior. Dogs is better pay when you’ve a connection among ’em.’
“A Cats’-meat carrier who supplied me with information,” says the same writer, “was more comfortably situated than any of the poorer classes that I have yet seen. He lived in the front roomof a second floor, in an open and respectable quarter of the town, and his lodgings were the perfection of comfort and cleanliness in an humble sphere. It was late in the evening when I reached the house; I found the ‘carrier’ and his family preparing the supper. In a large morocco leather easy chair sat the Cats’-meat carrier himself; his blue apron and black shiny hat had disappeared, and he wore a ‘dress’ coat and a black satin waistcoat instead. His wife, who was a remarkably pretty woman, and of very attractive manners, wore a ‘Dolly Varden’ cap, placed jauntily on the back of her head, and a drab merino dress. The room was cosily carpeted; and in one corner stood a mahogany ‘crib,’ with cane-work sides, in which one of the children was asleep. On the table was a clean white table-cloth, and the room was savoury with the steaks and mashed potatoes that were cooking on the fire. Indeed, I have never yet seen greater comfort in the abodes of the poor. The cleanliness and wholesomeness of the apartment were the more striking from the unpleasant associations connected with the calling.
“It is believed by one who has been engaged at the business for 25 years, that there are from 900 to 1,000 horses, averaging 2 cwt. of meat each, littleand big, boiled down every week; so that the quantity of cats’ and dogs’ meat used throughout London is about 200,000 lbs. per week, and this, sold at the rate of 2½d.per lb., gives £2,000 a-week for the money spent in cats’ and dogs’ meat, or upwards of £100,000 a-year, which is at the rate of £100 worth sold annually by each carrier. The profits of the carriers may be estimated at about £50 each per annum. The capital required to start in this business varies from £1 to £2. The stock-money needed is between 5s.and 10s.The barrow and basket, weights and scales, knife and steel, or blackstone, cost about £2 when new, and from 15s.to 4s.second hand.
Mr. Mayhew also states the London dogs’ and cats’ meat carriers to number at least one thousand. “The slaughtermen,” he says, “are said to reap large fortunes very rapidly. Many of them retire after a few years and take large farms. One after twelve years’ business retired with several thousand pounds, and has now three large farms. The carriers are men, women, and boys. Very few women do as well at it as the men. The carriers are generally sad drunkards. Out of five hundred it is said three hundred at least spend £1 a head a-week in drink. One party in the trade told methat he knew a carrier who would spend 10s.in liquor at one sitting. The profit the carriers make upon the meat is at present only a penny per pound. In the summer time the profit per pound is reduced to a halfpenny, owing to the meat being dearer, on account of its scarcity.”
The following are, as well as I can remember, the words of an old song, to the tune of “Cherry Ripe,” that were sung in some play:—