UC-NRLF B 3 5Sfl I W C \ .:::l!;: /: : ■HilHI illH THE LIBRARY £ OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA BEQUEST OF ANITA D. S. BLAKE OUR FRIENDS, THE BEASTS A SERIES OF ANTHOLOGIES EDITED BY AGNES REPPLIER THE CAT BEING A RECORD OF THE ENDEARMENTS AND INVECTIVES LAVISHED BY MANY WRITERS UPON AN ANIMAL MUCH LOVED AND MUCH ABHORRED COLLECTED, TRANSLATED AND ARRANGED BY AGNES REPPLIER AUTHOR OF "THE FIRESIDE SPHINX " WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY ELISABETH F. BONSALL You hold your race traditions fast, While others toil, you simply live; And, based upon a stable past, Remain a sound conservative. STURGIS & WALTON COMPANY 1912 Copyright, 1912 By STURGIS & WALTON COMPANY Set up and electrotyped. Published, October, 1912 GIFT -o A/GilD 5 TABLE OF CONTENTS THE CAT AMONG FRIENDS The Cat Benson . . 3 The Cat of Egypt . Herodotus . . 5 Montaigne and His Cat . Montaigne . . 6 The Cat as a Royal Envoy Reynard the Fox . . 7 The Lover whose Mistresse Feared a Mouse . . . Tuberville . . 8 An Appreciation Chateaubriand . . . 9 The Contemplative Life . Lang .... . . 10 The Cat Gardiner . . . 11 Lines Goldsmith . . 13 Firelight Heine .... . . 14 A Poet's Kitten Cowper . . 15 The Kitten Baillie . . 16 The Kitten Champfleury . . 20 Good and Bad Kittens . Herford . . . 23 Lines Herrick . . . 24 Dido Southey . . . 25 In Memoriam .... Southey . . . 26 Strength Which Lies in Delicacy Hamerton . . 27 The Companionable Cat . Hamerton . . 28 The Kitten and the Fall- ing Leaves Wordsuyorth . . . 29 Pussy-Wlllows .... Herford . . . 31 The London Cat .... Spectator . . 32 Practice Taine .... . . 33 Auld Bawthren's Song Anonymous . . . 34 My Lord Buckhurst Play- ing with a Cat . . . Prior .... . . 36 A Cat Jules Lemaitre . . . 37 487 CONTENTS THE CAT AMONG FOES To a Cat Which Had Killed a Bird .... Agathias The Cat Which Robbed a Dove-Cote Alnaharwany The Witch Cat .... Repplier Anathema Mabanatha . . Skelton False Gods Baruch Ailubophobia Mitchell Antipathy Wanley A Martyr Anonymous The Old Cat and the Young Mouse La Fontaine A Cat's Conscience . . . Anonymous Punchinello and the Cat . Champfleury 41 42 44 47 49 50 52 53 54 55 56 THE CAT LOVER SPEAKS Le Chat Nora The Cat's Progress Arsinoe's Cats . Cats .... To a Cat . . . To a Favourite Cat Epitaph on a Cat . The Cat's Coronach Graham Tomson . . 61 Eavard 62 Graham Tomson . . 65 Baudelaire .... 67 Swinburne .... 68 La Duchesse du Maine 70 La Mothe le Vayer . 71 Anonymous .... 72 CAT PORTRAITS The Cat of Great Britain Catus, the Cat . Lines HlNSE OF HlNSEFELD Hodge Hodge, the Cat . Atossa .... Berihlet 75 Salmon 76 Chaucer 77 Scott 78 Boswell 79 Coolidge 80 Arnold 83 VI CONTENTS Atossa Moumoutte Blanche moumoutte chinoise . The Two Cats . . . Eponine Don Pierrot de Navarre Arnold 84 Loti 85 Loti 88 Loti 92 Gautier 95 Gautier 98 Nero Repplier 102 Calvin Warner 105 Corporation Cats . . . The Spectator . . .109 Tom of Corpus .... Pollock 110 Oliver Huxley 112 Oliver Huxley 113 Mentu Benson 114 The Shah of Persia . . Janvier 116 Peter; an Elegy . . . Scollard 119 Peace and War .... Southey 121 The Freebooter .... Darwin 123 CAT TALES Sad Memories .... Calverley The Young Man and His Cat The Ratcatcher and Cats . A Captain's Kitten . . . A Sailor The Point of View . . . An Encounter .... The Retired Cat . . . A Wanderer An Outcast A Poet to the Rescue . . The Colubriad .... Discipline A Letter of Condolence . On the Death of a Favorite Cat Gray vii . 127 JEsop 131 Gay 132 Fielding 135 Repplier 137 Froude 140 Gautier 142 Cowper 144 Lang 149 Michelet 150 Cowper 152 Cowper 154 Repplier 156 Gray 157 158 CONTENTS THE CAT IN THE NURSERY Education Herford 163 Marigold Gamett 164 Nuesery Rhymes 165 A Sea Fight Berneville . . . .166 Nursery Rhymes 168 Mere Michel 169 The Cattie Sits in the Kiln-Ring Anonymous . . . .170 Grisette Dines .... DeshoulUdres . . .172 vin ACKNOWLEDGMENTS My sincere thanks are due to all the authors who have courteously permitted me to include their work in this volume, which otherwise would have been hopelessly inadequate. Also to Mr. Marriott Watson, who has allowed me to reprint Mrs. Mar- riott Watson's two admirable poems, and to Mrs. Charles Dudley Warner, who has given me the ex- tract from Mr. Warner's "Calvin." Also to Harper and Brothers, publishers of Mr. Swin- burne's poems and of Mr. Janvier's stories ; to The Macmillan Company, publishers of Mr. Matthew Arnold's letters and poems; to D. Appleton and Company, publishers of Mr. Huxley's life and let- ters ; to the Houghton Mifflin Company, publishers of Mr. Warner's " Calvin, a Study of Character " ; to Mr. John Lane, publisher of Mr. Benson's and of Mrs. Marriott Watson's poems; to Charles Scribner's Sons, publishers of Mr. Herford's poems ; and to Mr. William Heinemann, publisher of Margaret Benson's " The Soul of a Cat." IX THE CAT INTRODUCTION It is not the easy and grateful task to trace the cat, as we may trace the dog, through history and literature. All nations have conspired to praise the animal which loves and serves. Few and cold are the praises given to the animal which seldom loves and never serves, which has only the grace c>f companionship to offer in place of the dog's passionate fidelity. There is no cat to put by the side of the hound, Argos, — Argos, old, blind, shivering on a dung-heap, who recognizes Odysseus in his beggar's garb, and dies of joy at his master's return. There is no such epitaph on a cat as that of Simonides on a hound of Thessaly : " Surely even as thou liest in this tomb, I deem the wild beasts yet fear thy white bones, Lycas; and thy valour great Pelion knows, and the lonely peaks of Cithaeron." xiii THE CAT There is no word of Shakespeare's to which the cat-lover may turn with delight, as the hunter turns to the gallant lines of Theseus : " My hounds are hred out of the Spartan kind, So flew'd, so sanded; and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew." As a matter of fact, all the earliest notices of the cat are peevish outcries against her freebooting instincts, her spirit of stubborn independence. She was centuries winning a foothold in society even as the " harmless necessary cat/' that rid the household of mice, and any deviation from duty's path brought down upon her graceful head a torrent of abuse. " These vylanous false cattes Were made for mice and rattes, And not for byrdes small/' writes John Skelton, with unwarranted confidence in the discrimination of nature's laws. " Grimalkin, the foul Fiend's cat, Grimalkin, the witche's brat," runs an old rhyme, expressing the popular preju- dice of its day. xiv THE CAT " A ha-penny cat may look at a king," says a Scotch proverb, blatantly contemptuous of Pussy's place in the order of creation. It was not until the arts of peace had supplanted the arts of war, and men had leisure to make them- selves comfortable, that the cat emerged from ob- scurity, and evinced a laudable disposition to share this comfort. It was not until a growing taste for luxury softened the old hardy, turbulent life, that the cat felt herself at ease by the firesides of civil- ization. She was cautious in her advances, sharing the deep mistrust which she inspired, and reserved even with her friends. The most domestic of ani- mals, by virtue of her attachment to her home, she has never made a full surrender of her freedom. The most companionable of animals, by virtue of her softness, her silence, her orderly instincts and her innate self-respect, she grants her friendship only on terms of equality. The most suave of ani- mals, she remains a mystery, as impenetrable now as when she shared the witch's knowledge and the witch's doom. For all these reasons, people who write about cats do so, for the most part, in terms of exaggera- tion. The world is divided into men and women who love cats, and men and women who cordially detest them. It seems difficult to preserve an atti- xv THE CAT tude of neutrality towards a beast whose most striking characteristic is indifference. This is especially the case with French authors. From the shuddering cry of Ronsard, " No living man, of things beneath the sky, Can hate a cat more bitterly than I ; I hate its eyes, its face, its very stare;" to the fervent lines of Baudelaire, whose love for his cats was a fantastic passion, we find much that is beautiful, but little that is temperate. " Only a Frenchman," observes M. Gautier, " can under- stand the subtle organization of a cat." Only a Frenchman can write about his cats in minute de- tail, with delicate sympathy, and with a high quality of imagination. The Germans have been prompt to recognize Pussy's mysterious personal- ity, and keenly alive to her domestic usefulness; but they have seldom sought to make of her a friend. In England and in America the cat's progress to favour has been slow and sure. A hundred years lie between Miss Joanna Baillie's — " careful, comely, mousing cat," and Mr. Swinburne's " Stately, kindly, lordly friend," xvi THE CAT; and, in these hundred years, English writers have at last learned to value at their utmost worth the qualities which so long repelled enthusiasm. They have much to say about the cat's beauty; but they grow eloquent over her love of liberty, her manifest reserves, her contemptuous serenity of bearing. They describe with delight her nocturnal wander- ings, her human interest in her own comfort, the calmness with which she permits herself to be waited upon, and her steadfast refusal to bend her will to the capricious demands of humanity. They have discovered that she is the most charming of play-fellows, the most soothing of companions ; and that the friendship which is hard to win and hard to hold is worth at least as much as the friendship which is given for the asking. I have laboured con amore to pursue the vicissi- tudes and the triumphs of the cat, as set forth in French and English letters. I have tracked her soft footprints along quiet paths and broad high- ways. I offer the fruits of my toil to all who share my deference for the most self-respecting, my admiration for the most charming, my love for the most lovable of beasts. xvn THE CAT The Cat On some grave business, soft and slow, Along the garden-paths you go, With bold and burning eyes: Or stand, with twitching tail, to mark What starts and rustles in the dark, Among the peonies. The dusty cockchafer that springs Upon the dusk with whirring wings, The beetle, glossy-horned, The rabbit pattering through the fern, May frisk unheeded, by your stern Preoccupation scorned. You go, and when the morning dawns O'er blowing trees and dewy lawns, Dim-veiled with gossamer, When cheery birds are on the wing, You creep, a wild and wicked thing, With stained and starting fur. You all day long, beside the fire, Retrace in dreams your dark desire, And mournfully complain THE CAT In grave displeasure, if I raise Your languid form to pet or praise; And so to sleep again. The gentler hound that near me lies, Looks up with true and tender eyes, And waits my generous mirth; You do not woo me, but demand A gift from my unwilling hand, A tribute to your worth. You loved me when the fire was warm, But, now I stretch a fondling arm, You eye me and depart. Cold eyes, sleek skin, and velvet paws, You win my indolent applause, You do not win my heart. Arthur Christopher Benson. THE CAT: The Cat of Egypt The number of domestic animals in Egypt is very great, and would be still greater, were it not for what befalls the cats. As the females, when they have kittened, no longer seek the company of the males, these last, to obtain once more their companionship, practise a curious artifice. They seize the kittens, carry them off, and kill them; but do not eat them afterwards. Upon this, the females, being deprived of their young, and long- ing to supply their place, seek the males once more, since they are particularly fond of their off- spring. On every occasion of a fire in Egypt, the stran- gest prodigy occurs with the cats. The inhabit- ants allow the fire to rage as it pleases, while they stand about at intervals and watch these animals, which, slipping by the men, or else leaping over them, rush headlong into the flames. When this happens, the Egyptians are in deep affliction. If a cat dies in a private house by a natural death, all the inmates of the house shave their eyebrows. The dead cats are taken to the city of Bubastis, where they are embalmed, after which they are buried in certain sacred repositories. .Herodotus. Version of George Rawlinson, M.A. 5 THE CAT Montaigne and his Cat When my cat and I entertain each other with mutual antics, as playing with a garter, who knows but that I make more sport for her than she makes for me? Shall I conclude her to be simple that has her time to begin or to refuse to play, as freely as I have mine. Nay, who knows but that it is a defect of my not understanding her language (for doubtless cats can talk and reason with one an- other) that we agree no better; and who knows but that she pities me for being no wiser than to play with her; and laughs, and censures my folly in making sport for her, when we two play to- gether. Montaigne. 6 THE CAT= The Cat as a Royal Envoy Thenne the kynge of the beastis salde to the catte : " Syr Tybert, ye shal now goo to Reynart, and saye to hym this seconde tyme that he come to court, for to answere unto the plea ; for though he be felle to other beastis, he trusteth you wel, and shal doo by your counseyl. And telle hym if he come not, he shal have the thirde warning, and if he thenne come not, we shal procede by ryght agenste hym, and alle hys lyneage wythout mercy." The catte spake : " My lord the kynge, they that thus counseylde you were not my frendes. What shal I doo there? Reynart wyl not for me neyther come ne abyde. I beseeche you, dere kynge, sende some other to hym. I am a catte, lytyl and feeble. Bruyn the beare, which was so grete and strong, coude not brynge hym. How shold I thenne take it on honde? " " Nay," said the kynge, " Sir Tybert, ye ben wyse and wel lerned. Though ye be not grete, many do more wyth crafte and connyng than with myght and strengthe." Thenne said the catte : " Syth it muste nedes be don, I muste take it upon me. God give grace that I may wel achieve it, for my hearte is heavy and evil willed thereto." Reynard the Fox. From the edition printed by Caxton in 1481. 7 THE CAT The Lover Whose Mistresse Feared a Mouse The Squirrel thinking nought, That feately cracks the nut, The greedie Goshawke wanting prey, In dread of Death doth put; But scorning all these kindes, I would become a Cat, To combat with the creeping Mouse, And scratch the screeking Rat. I would be present, aye, And at my Ladie's call, To gard her from the fearfull Mouse, In Parlour and in Hall; In Kitchen, for his Lyf e, He should not shew his hed; The Pease in Poke should lie untoucht When shee were gone to Bed. The Mouse should stand in Feare, So should the squeaking Rat; All this would I doe if I were Converted to a Cat. George Tuberville. 8 THE CAT= An Appreciation I value in the cat the independent and almost ungrateful spirit which prevents her from attach- ing herself to any one, the indifference with which she passes from the salon to the housetop. When we caress her, she stretches herself and arches her back responsively ; but this is because she feels an agreeable sensation, not because she takes a silly satisfaction, like the dog, in faithfully loving a thankless master. The cat lives alone, has no need of society, obeys only when she pleases, pretends to sleep that she may see the more clearly, and scratches everything on which she can lay her paw." Chateaubriand to M. de Marcellus. THE CAT The Contemplative Life From the dawn of creation the cat has known his place, and he has kept it, practically untamed and unspoiled by man. He has retenue. Of all animals, he alone attains to the Contemplative Life. He regards the wheel of existence from without, like the Buddha. There is no pretence of sym- pathy about the cat. He lives alone, aloft, sub- lime, in a wise passiveness. He is excessively proud; and, when he is made the subject of con- versation, will cast one glance of scorn, and leave the room in which personalities are bandied. All expressions of emotion he scouts as frivolous and insincere, except, indeed, in the ambrosial night, when, free from the society of mankind, he pours forth his soul in strains of unpremeditated art. The paltry pay and paltry praise of humanity he despises, like Edgar Poe. He does not exhibit the pageant of his bleeding heart; he does not howl when people die, nor explode in cries of de- light when his master returns from a journey. With quiet courtesy, he remains in his proper and comfortable place, only venturing into view when something he approves of, such as fish or game, makes its appearance. On the rights of property he is firm. If a strange cat enters his domain, he is up in claws to resist invasion. It was for these qualities, probably, that the cat was worshipped by the ancient Egyptians. Andrew Lang. 10 % THE CAT= The Cat I like the simple dignity That hedges round the cat; You never see her showing off, She lets the dog do that. You never catch her leaping hoops, Nor prancing on the floor Upon two legs, when generous Dame Nature gave her four. We train the dog to hunt the birds, And beat him when he fails. He works all day, and never gets A single taste of quails. The cat is wiser far than he, She hunts for birds to eat; She does not run her legs off, just To give some man a treat. All cats, no matter what their breed, Are born aristocrats; They never, like the terriers, make A trade of killing rats. The cat will rid the house of rats, Because she likes the fun, No man can say she's moved to it, Because he wants it done. 11 THE CAT Man harnesses the lightning, and Makes steam perform his will, The horse and dog his bond-slaves are, The cat eludes him still. The dog's man's servant, plaything, drudge, A foolish altruist; The cat, in spite of man, remains Serene, an egotist. Talk not to me about your dog, It is but idle chat; Give me that calm philosopher Of hearth and home, the cat. Ruth Kimball Gardiner. 12 THE CAT^ Around, in sympathetic mirth, Its tricks the kitten tries; The cricket chirrups on the hearth, The crackling fagot flies. Oliver Goldsmith. 13 THE CAT Firelight Musing, I sit on my cushioned settle, Facing the firelight's fitful shine; Sings on the hob the simmering kettle, Songs that seem echoes of " auld lang syne." And close beside me the cat sits purring, Warming her paws at the cheery gleam ; The flames keep flitting, and flicking, and whirring,- My mind is lapped in a realm of dream. Heinrich Heine, Translated by Sir Theodore Martin. 14 THE CAT A Poet's Kitten I have a kitten, my dear, the drollest of all creatures that ever wore a cat's skin. Her gam- bols are incredible, and not to be described. She tumbles head over heels several times together. She lays her cheek to the ground, and humps her back at you with an air of most supreme disdain. From this posture she rises to dance on her hind feet, an exercise which she performs with all the grace imaginable; and she closes these various ex- hibitions with a loud smack of her lips, which, for want of greater propriety of expression, we call spitting. But, though all cats spit, no cat ever produced such a sound as she does. In point of size, she is likely to be a kitten always, being ex- tremely small for her age ; but time, that spoils all things, will, I suppose, make her also a cat. You will see her, I hope, before that melancholy period shall arrive ; for no wisdom that she may gain by experience and reflection hereafter will compensate for the loss of her present hilarity. She is dressed in a tortoise-shell suit, and I know that you will delight in her. William Cowper to Lady Hesheth. 15 THE CAT The Kitten Wanton droll, whose harmless play Beguiles the rustic's closing day, When, drawn the evening fire about, Sit aged Crone and thoughtless Lout, And child upon his three-foot stool, Waiting till his supper cool; And maid whose cheek outblooms the rose, As bright the blazing faggot glows, Who, bending to the friendly light, Plies her task with busy sleight; Come, shew thy tricks and sportive graces, Thus circled round with merry faces. Backward coiled, and crouching low, With glaring eyeballs watch thy foe; The housewife's spindle whirling round, Or thread or straw, that on the ground Its shadow throws, by urchin sly Held out to lure thy roving eye. Then, onward stealing, fiercely spring Upon the futile, faithless thing. Now, wheeling round with bootless skill, Thy bo-peep tail provokes thee still, And oft, beyond thy curving side, Its jetty tip is seen to glide; Till, from thy centre starting far, Thou sidelong rear'st, with tail in air 16 THE CAT= Erected stiff, and gait awry, Like Madam in her tantrums high; Though ne'er a Madam of them all Whose silken kirtle sweeps the hall, More varied trick and whim displays, To catch the admiring stranger's gaze. Doth power in measured verses dwell, All thy vagaries wild to tell? Ah no ! the start, the j et, the bound, The giddy scamper round and round, With leap, and j erk, and high curvet, And many a whirling somerset (Permitted be the modern Muse Expression technical to use), These mock the deftliest rhymester's skill, So poor in art, though rich in will. The nimblest tumbler, stage-bedight, To thee is but a clumsy wight, Who every limb and sinew strains To do what costs thee little pains, For which, I trow, the gaping crowd Requites him oft with plaudits loud. But, stopped the while thy wanton play, Applauses too thy feats repay: For then, beneath some urchin's hand. With modest pride thou takest thy stand, While many a stroke of fondness glides Along thy back and tabby sides. 17 ' THE CAT Dilated swells thy glossy fur, And loudly sings thy busy purr, As, timing well the equal sound, Thy clutching feet bepat the ground, And all their harmless claws disclose, Like prickles of an early rose; While softly from thy whiskered cheek Thy half-closed eyes peer mild and meek. Whence hast thou then, thou witless Puss, The magic power to charm us thus? Is it, that in thy glaring eye And rapid movements we descry, While we at ease, secure from ill, The chimney corner snugly fill, A lion darting on his prey? A tiger at his ruthless play? Or is it that in thee we trace, With all thy varied wanton grace, An emblem, viewed with kindred eye, Of tricksy, restless infancy? Ah ! many a lightly-sportive child, Who hath, like thee, our wits beguiled, To dull and sober manhood grown, With strange recoil our hearts disown. Even so, poor kit ! must thou endure, When thou becomest a cat demure, Full many a cuff and angry word, Chid roughly from the tempting board. 18 THE CAT: And yet, for that thou hast, I ween, So oft our favoured playmate been, Soft be the change which thou shalt prove, When time hath spoiled thee of our love ; Still be thou deemed, by housewife fat, A comely, careful, mousing cat, Whose dish is, for the public good, Replenished oft with savoury food. Nor, when thy span of life be past, Be thou to pond or dunghill cast; But gently borne on good man's spade, Beneath the decent sod be laid, And children show with glistening eyes, The place where poor old Pussy lies. Joanna Baillie. THE CAT The Kitten A kitten is the joy of a household. All day long this incomparable actor plays his little com- edy, and those who search for perpetual motion can do no better than watch his antics. His the- atre is always open, any room suffices him for a stage, and he has need of few accessories. A scrap of paper, a bit of string, a spool, a pen, these are enough to incite him to marvellous acrobatic feats. " Everything that moves," says Moncrif , " serves to interest and amuse a cat. He is con- vinced that nature is busying herself with his di- version; he can conceive of no other purpose in the universe; and when we sport with him, and make him leap and tumble, he probably takes us for pantomimists and buffoons." Even when a kitten is quiet, he is the drollest of creatures. What a spice of innocent malice in his half -shut eyes! His head, heavy with sleep, his outstretched paws, his air of ineffable languor, all tell of comfort and content. A little drowsing cat is an image of perfect beatitude. Look at his ears. How big and comical they are. No sound, however faint, escapes them. Look at his eyes when he opens them wide. How quick and keen their glance. Who is that knocking? Who is 20 THE CAT: that crossing the room? What is there good to eat in box, or bundle, or basket? The ruling pas- sion of a kitten is curiosity, and in this regard he is uncommonly like a child. " When a cat enters a room for the first time," says Rousseau in " Emile," " he prowls into every corner, he cannot rest until he has made himself familiar with his surroundings. So does a young child behave when he is beginning to walk and talk. So does he ques- tion the unknown world he is entering." There is no more intrepid explorer than a kitten. He makes perilous voyages into cellar and attic, he scales the roofs of neighbouring houses, he thrusts his little inquiring nose into half -shut doors, he lays up for future use a store of useful observation, he gets himself into every kind of trouble, and is always sorry when it is too late. It is amazing to see a kitten climb a tree. Up he goes from bough to bough, higher and higher, as though bent on enjoying the view from the top. He does not ask where this delightful adventure is taking him. He pays no heed to the diminishing size of the branches, and it is only when they sway beneath his weight that he realizes the impossibility of mounting any further. Then fear gripes his heart, and he mews appealingly for help. Some- body must hasten with a ladder to his rescue; 21 :THE CAT and, until aid comes, he slides pitifully and peril- ously along an upper branch, clawing it with desperate precautions. His heart, we know, is beating as though it would break, his agility has deserted him, his audacity has given way to despair. Les Chats, Jules Husson Champfleury. 22 THE CAT= Good and Bad Kittens Kittens, you are very little, And your kitten bones are brittle, If you'd grow to Cats respected, See your play be not neglected. Smite the Sudden Spool, and spring Upon the Swift Elusive String; Thus you learn to catch the wary Mister Mouse, or Miss Canary. That is how, in Foreign Places, Fluffy Cubs with Kitten faces, Where the mango waves sedately, Grow to Lions large and stately. But the Kittencats who snatch Rudely for their food, or scratch, Grow to Tomcats gaunt and gory, Theirs is quite another story. Cats like these are put away By the dread S. P. C. A., Or to trusting Aunts and Sisters Sold as Sable Muffs and Wristers. Oliver Herford. 23 THE CAT Yet can thy humble roof maintaine a quire Of singing crickets by thy fire; And the brisk mouse may feast herselfe with crumbs, Till that the green-eyed kitling comes. Robert Herrick. 24 THE CAT= Dido We have got the prettiest kitten you ever saw, — a dark tabby, — and we have christened her by the heathenish name of Dido. You would be very much diverted to see her hunt Herbert all round the kitchen, playing with his little bare feet, which she just pricks at every pat; and the faster he moves back, the more she paws them, at which he cries, " Naughty Dido ! " and points to his feet, and says, " Hurt, hurt, naughty Dido ! " Pres- ently he feeds her with comfits, which Dido plays with awhile, but soon returns to her old game. Robert Southey to Lieutenant Southey. 25 THE CAT In Memoriam Alas, Grosvenor, this day died poor old Rumpel, after as long and happy a life as cat could wish for, if cats form wishes on that subject. His full titles were: — " The most Noble the Archduke Rumpelstiltz- chen, Marquis Macbum, Earl Tomlemagne, Baron Raticide, Waowhler, and Skaratch." There should be a court mourning in Catland, and if the Dragon * wear a black ribbon round his neck, or a band of crape, a la militaire, on one of his fore legs, it will be but a becoming mark of respect. As we have no catacombs here, he is to be de- cently interred in the orchard, and catmint planted on his grave. Poor creature, it is well that he has thus come to his end, since he had grown to be an object of pity. I believe we are, each and all, servants included, more sorry for his loss, or rather more affected by it, than any one of us would like to confess. I should not have written to you at present, had it not been to notify you of this event. Robert Southey to Grosvenor C. Bedford, i Bedford's cat. 26 THE CAT= The Strength Which Lies in Delicacy The cat's energy is subdued into an exquisite moderation. Other animals roughly employ what strength they happen to possess, without reference to the smallness of the occasion; but the cat uses only the necessary force. One day I watched a kitten playing with a daffodil. She sat on her hind legs, and patted the flower with her paws, first with the right paw, then with the left, making the light yellow bell sway from side to side, yet not injuring a petal or a stamen. She took de- light, evidently, in the very delicacy of the exer- cise; whereas a dog or a horse has no enjoyment of delicacy in its own movements, but acts strongly when it is strong, without calculating whether the energy used may not be in great part superfluous. This proportioning of force to the need is an evi- dence of refinement in manners and in art. If animals could speak, the dog would be a blunt, blundering, outspoken, honest fellow; but the cat would have the rare grace of never saying a word too much. Philip Gilbert Hamerton. M THE CAT The Companionable Cat My cat in winter time usually sleeps upon my dog, who submits in patience; and I have often found her on horseback in the stable, not from any taste for equestrianism, but simply because a horse- cloth is a perpetual warmer when there is a living horse beneath it. She loves the dog and horse with the tender regard we have for foot-warmers and railway rugs during a journey in the depth of win- ter ; nor have I ever been able to detect in her any worthier sentiment towards her master. Yet of all animals that we can have in a room with us, the cat is the least disquieting. Her presence is sooth- ing to a student, as the presence of a quiet nurse is soothing to an invalid. It is agreeable to feel that you are not absolutely alone, and it seems to you, when you are at work, as if the cat took care that all her movements should be noiseless, purely out of consideration for your comfort. Then, if you have time to caress her, you know that she will purr a response, and why inquire too closely into the sincerity of her affection? Philip Gilbert Hamerton. 28 THE CAT; The Kitten and the Falling Leaves That way look, my infant, lo! What a pretty baby show ! See the kitten on the wall, Sporting with the leaves that fall, Withered leaves, — one — two — and three,- From the lofty elder-tree ! Through the calm and frosty air Of this morning bright and fair Eddying round and round they sink, Softly, slowly: one might think, From the motions that are made, Every little leaf convey'd Sylph or fairy hither tending, — To this lower world descending, Each invisible and mute, In his wavering parachute. But the kitten, how she starts, Crouches, stretches, paws, and darts! First at one, and then its fellow, Just as light and just as yellow; There are many now, — now one, — Now they stop, and there are none. What intenseness of desire In her upward eye of fire! With a tiger-leap half way Now she meets the coming prey, Lets it go as fast, and then 29 THE CAT Has it in her power again; Now she works with three or four, Like an Indian conjuror; Quick as he in feats of art, Far beyond in joy of heart. Were her antics play'd in the eye Of a thousand standers-by, Clapping hands with shout and stare, What would little Tabby care For the plaudits of the crowd ? Over happy to be proud, Over wealthy in the treasure Of her own exceeding pleasure ! William Wordsworth. 30 THE CAT Pussy-Willows I sometimes think the Pussy- Willows grey Are Angel Kittens who have lost their way, And every Bulrush on the river bank A Cat-Tail from some lovely Cat astray. Sometimes I think perchance that Allah may, When he created Cats, have thrown away The Tails he marred in making, and they grew To Cat-Tails and to Pussy- Willows grey. Oliver Herford. 31 THE CAT The London Cat On summer mornings from four a. m. to five, London ceases to belong to the world of men, and is given over to birds and cats. At this really be- witching hour, for the city then is beautiful, the cats may be seen, as at no other time, rerum domini, masters of the town. It is not for nothing that the race has for generations maintained its inde- pendence, and asserted its right to roam. For at that hour all the dogs are shut up, all the boys and grown people are asleep. The city is theirs. The demeanour of London cats at four a. m. is one of assured freedom. They stroll about the streets and gardens with a quiet air of possession. They converse in the centre of highways. They walk with feline abandon and momentary magnificence over open squares. In the silver grey of a London dawn they are no longer domestic pets, they are gentlemen at large. The Spectator. THE CAT= Practice Cultivate your garden, said Goethe and Voltaire, Every other task is wasted and dead-born; Narrow all your efforts to a given sphere, Seek your Heaven daily in a bit of ground. So my cat behaves. Like a veteran, He brushes well his coat before he sits to dine; All his work is centred in his own domain, Just to keep his spotless fur soft, and clean, and fine. His tongue is sponge, and brush, and towel, and curry- comb, Well he knows what work it can be made to do, Poor little wash-rag, smaller than my thumb. His nose touches his back, touches his hind paws too, Every patch of fur is raked, and scraped, and smoothed ; What more has Goethe done, what more could Voltaire do? From the French of Hippolyte Taine. : THE CAT Auld Bawthren's Song The gudewife birrs wi' the wheel a* day, Three threeds an' a thrum; A walth o' wark, an* sma' time for play, Wi' the lint sae white and worset grey Work hard she maun, while sing I may, Three threeds an* a thrum. The gudewife rises frae out her bed, Wi* her cozy nicht-mutch round her head, To steer the fire to a blaze sae red, An' her feet I rub wi' welcome glad. I daunder round her wi' blythesome birr, An* rub on her legs my sleek warm fur; Wi' sweeps o' my tail I welcome her, An' round her rin, wherever she stir. The men-folk's time for rest is sma', They're out in the sunshine, an* out in the snaw, Tho' cauld winds whistle, or rain should fa', I, in the ingle, dae nought ava\ I like the gudeman, but loe the wife, Days mony they've seen o' leil and strife; O' sorrow human hours are rife; Their haud's been mine a' the days o' my life. THE CAT Auld Bawthren grey, she kitten'd me here, An* wha was my sire I didna spier; Brithers an' sisters smoor'd i' the weir, Left me alane to my mither dear. As I grew a cat wi' look sae douce, She taught me to catch the pilf 'rin mouse ; Wi' the thievish rottons I had nae truce, But banished them a' frae the maister's house. Mither got fushionless, auld, an' blin, The bluid in her veins was cauld an* thin, Her claws were blunt, an' she couldna rin, An' t* her forbears was sune gathered in. Now I sit hurklin' aye in the ase, The queen I am o' that cozy place; As wi' ilka paw I dicht my face, I sing an* purr wi* mickle grace, Three threeds an* a thrum, Three threeds an* a thrum. Anonymous. 35 THE CAT To my Lord Buckhurst, Very Young, Play- ing with a Cat The am'rous youth, whose tender breast Was by his darling cat possest, Obtain'd of Venus his desire, Howe'er irregular his fire. Nature the power of love obey'd, — The cat became a blushing maid; And, on the happy change, the boy Employ 'd his wonder and his joy. Take care, O beauteous child, take care, Lest thou prefer so rash a pray'r: Nor vainly hope the Queen of Love Will e'er thy fav'rite's charms improve. Oh, quickly from her shrine retreat, Or tremble for thy darling's fate. The Queen of Love, who soon will see Her own Adonis live in thee, Will lightly her first loss deplore, Will easily forgive the boar. Her eyes with tears no more will flow, With jealous rage her breast will glow, And on her tabby rival's face She deep will mark her new disgrace. Matthew Prior. 36 THE CAT= A Cat Philosopher and comrade, not for thee The fond and foolish love which binds the dog; Only a quiet sympathy which sees Through all my faults, and bears with them awhile. Be lenient still, and have some faith in me, Gentlest of sceptics, sleepiest of friends. Jules Lemaitre to his Cat 37 favour it/ in atat <£a &chtaine THE CAT: To a Cat which had Killed a Bird O cat in semblance, but in heart akin To canine raveners, whose ways are sin , Still at my hearth a guest thou dar'st to be ? Unwhipt of Justice, hast no dread of me? Or deem'st the sly allurements shall avail Of purring throat and undulating tail? No ! as to pacify Patroclus dead, Twelve Trojans by P elides' sentence bled, So shall thy blood appease the feathery shade, And for one guiltless life shall nine be paid. Agathias, Translation of Richard Garnett 41 THE CAT On a Cat, Killed as she was Robbing a Dove-Cote Poor Puss is gone ! — 'tis Fate's decree, Yet I must still her loss deplore ; For dearer than a child was she, And ne'er shall I behold her more. With many a sad, presaging tear, This morn I saw her steal away, While she slipped off without a fear, Except that she should miss her prey. I saw her to the dove-house climb, With cautious feet and slow she stept, Resolved to balance loss of time By eating faster than she crept. Her subtle foes were on the watch, And marked her course, with fury fraught; And while she hoped the birds to catch, An arrow's point the huntress caught. In fancy she had slain them all, And drunk their blood and sucked their breath; Alas ! she only got a fall, And only drank the draught of death. 42 THE CAT: Why, why was pigeon's flesh so nice, That thoughtless cats should love it thus? Hadst thou but lived on rats and mice, Thou hadst been living still, poor Puss ! Cursed be the taste, howe'er refined, That prompts us for such joys to wish; And cursed the dainty, where we find Destruction lurking in the dish. From the Arabic in Ibn Alalap Alnaharwany. 43 =THE CAT The Witch Cat Innumerable legends cluster around the cat during the picturesque centuries of superstition, when men were poor in letters, but rich in vivid imaginings; when they were densely ignorant, but never dull. Even after the Dark Ages had grown light, there was no lifting of the gloom which enveloped Pussy's pathway, there was no visible softening of her lot. The stories told of her imp- ish wickedness have the same general character throughout Europe. We meet them with modest variations in France, Germany, Sweden, Den- mark, England, Scotland and Wales. It was a belated woodcutter of Brittany who saw with hor- ror-stricken eyes thirteen cats dancing in sacri- legious glee around a wayside crucifix. One he killed with his axe, and the other twelve disappeared in a trice. It was a charcoal-burner in the Black Forest who, hearing strange noises near his kiln at night, arose from bed, and stepped into the clear- ing. Before him, motionless in the moonlight, sat three cats. He stooped to pick up a stone, and the relic of Saint Gildas he carried in his bosom fell from its snapt string upon the ground. Im- mediately his arm hung helpless, and he could not touch the stone. Then one of the cats said to its companions : " For the sake of his wife, who is 44 THE CAT= my gossip, sisters, let him go ! " and the next morning he was found lying unconscious, but un- harmed, across the forest road. From Scandinavia, where the fair white cats of Freija were once as honoured as were Odin's ravens and Thor's goats, comes the tale of the haunted mill, in which dreadful revelry was heard at night, and which had been twice burned to the ground on Whitsun Eve. The third year, a travelling tailor, pious and brave, offered to keep watch. He chalked a circle on the floor, wrote the Lord's prayer around it, and waited with patience until midnight. Then a troop of cats crept stealthily in, carrying a great pot of pitch which they hung in the fireplace, lighting the logs beneath it. Soon the pitch bubbled and seethed, and the cats, swing- ing the pot, tried to overturn it. The tailor drove them away; and when one, who seemed to be the leader, sought to pull him gently outside the magic circle, he cut off its paw with his knife. Upon this, they all fled howling into the night; and the next morning the miller saw with joy his mill standing unharmed, and the great wheel turning merrily in the water. But the miller's wife was ill in bed; and, when the tailor bade her good-bye, she gave him her left hand, hiding beneath the bedclothes the right arm's bleeding stump. 45 THE CAT There is also a Scandinavian version of the ever famous story which Sir Walter Scott told to Wash- ington Irving, which " Monk " Lewis told to Shel- ley, and which, in one form or another, we find embodied in the folk-lore of every land, — the story of the traveller who saw within a ruined abbey a procession of cats, lowering into its grave a little coffin with a crown upon it. Filled with horror, he hastened from the spot; but when he reached his destination, he could not forbear relating to a friend the wonder he had seen. Scarcely had the tale been told, when his friend's cat, who lay curled up tranquilly by the fire, sprang to his feet, cried out, " Then I am the King of the Cats ! " and dis- appeared in a flash up the chimney. The Fireside Sphinx, Agnes Repplieb. 46 THE CAT= Anathema Maranatha That vengeaunce I aske and crye, By way of exclamacyon, On all the whole nacyon Of cattes wylde and tame; God send them sorowe and shame! That cat especyally That slew so cruelly My lytell pretty sparowe, That I brought up at Carowe. O cat of churlyshe kynde, The Fynde was in thy minde When thou my byrde untwynde! I would thou haddest ben blynde ! The leopardes savage, The lyons in theyr rage, Myght catche thee in theyr pawes ! And gnawe thee in theyr jawes! The serpentes of Lybany Myght stynge thee venymously! The dragones with theyr tonges Myght poyson thy lyver and longes ! The mantycors of the montaynes Myght f ede them on thy braynes ! Melanchates, that hounde That plucked Actaeon to the grounde, Gave hym his mortall wounde, 47 THE CAT Chaunged to a dere, The story doth appere, Was chaunged to an harte: So thou, f oule eat that thou arte, The selfesame hounde Myght thee confounde, That his owne lord bote, Myght byte asondre thy throte ! Of Inde the gredy grypes Myght tere out all thy trypes ! Of Arcady the beares Myght plucke awaye thyne eares ! The wylde wolfe Lycaon Byte asondre thy backe bone ! Of Ethna the brennynge hyll, That day and nyghte brenneth styl, Set in thy tayle a blase, That all the world may gase And wonder upon thee ! From Ocyan the greate sea Unto the Isles of Orchady; From Tyllbery ferry To the playne of Salysbery! So trayterously my byrde to kyll, That never wrought thee evyll wyll! The BoJee of Phylyp Sparowe, John Skelton. 48 THE CAT: False Gods Now shall ye see in Babylon gods of silver, and of gold, and of wood Their faces are blacked thorow the smoke that comes out of the temple. Upon their bodies and heads sit battes, swallowes, and birds, and the cats also. By this you may know that they are no gods ; therefore fear them not. Baruch, Apocrypha. 49 =THE CAT Ailurophobia My research brought to me indisputable evi- dence concerning the large number of people in whom the presence of a cat gives rise to a variety of symptoms. In such persons, the feeling caused by seeing a cat is instantaneous. In the asthma victims, it is slower and cumulative, and may not be felt at all for twenty minutes or more. Certain persons, on seeing a cat, have other symptoms, with or without oppression of breathing. There may be only fear, terror, disgust. There may be added chilly sensations, horripilation, weakness, locked jaw, or, as in one case, fixed open jaw, rigidity of arms, pallor, nausea, rarely vomiting, pro- nounced hysterical convulsions, and even tempo- rary blindness. These pass away with removal of the cat, but in a few examples leave the sufferer nervously disturbed for a day. Two report them- selves as apt to have dreams of cats, what one of them calls " cat mares." Five persons, three being women, are alarmed in the presence of the greater cats, caged tigers or lions. A soldier of distinction, much given when younger to tiger hunting, is undisturbed by these great felines, but terrified by the tame cat. 50 THE CAT= On a study of those who, at sight of cats, have fear, horror, and, in varying degrees, emotional dis- turbances and distinct physical symptoms, and those whom unseen cats affect, we observe that the same symptomatic expressions attend both groups. In the first set, sight of the cat informs. Then there are fear, horror, disgust, and more or less of the nervous symptoms already described. In the second set, those who are conscious of unseen cats, some sense, other than sight or hearing, gives the information, and then the symptoms are much the same as when the cat is seen. S. Weir Mitchell, M.D. 51 =T.HE CAT Antipathy Mathiolus tells us of a German who, coming in winter time into an inn to sup with him and some other of his friends, the woman of the house, being acquainted with his temper (lest he should depart at sight of a young cat which she kept to breed up), had beforehand hid her kitling in a chest, in the room where the company sat at supper. But though the German had neither seen nor heard the little animal, yet after some time that he had sucked in the air infected by its breath, that quality of his temperament which had antipathy unto cats became sorely disturbed. He began to sweat, and of a sudden to grow pale; and, to the wonder of all who were present, he cried out in an anguished voice that in some corner of the room there was a cat lay hid. Wonders of the Little World, 1678, Nathaniel Wanley. 52 THE CA^ A Martyr In the Reigne of Queene Mary (at which time Popery was much exalted), then were the Round- heads — i. e., the monks and friars — so odious to the people, that, in derision of them, was a Cat taken on a Sabbath day, with her head shorne as a Fryer's, and the likenesse of a vestment cast over her, with her feet tied together, and a round piece of paper like a singing Cake between them; and thus was she hanged on a gallows in Cheapside, neere to the Crosse, in the parish of Saint Mathew. Which Cat, being taken down, was carried to the Bishop of London, and by him sent to Doctor Pen- dleton (who was then preaching at Paul's Cross), commanding it to be shown to the Congregation. The Round-head Fryers cannot abide to heare of this Cat. Twenty Lookes over all the Round-heads m the World, 1643. 53 -THE CAT The Old Cat and the Young Mouse A young Mouse, small and innocent, Implored an old Cat's clemency: " Raminagrobis, let me live ! Your royal mercy, monarch, give ! A Mouse so little, sir, as I A tiny meal can ill supply. How could I starve a family? Host, hostess, only look at me. I fatten on a grain of wheat, — A mite my dinner makes complete; I'm thin, too, now, — just wait a bit, And for your children I'll be fit." Thus spoke the little Mouse, aggrieved; The old Cat answered : " You're deceived. Go, tell the deaf and dumb, — not me, Cats never pardon, so you'll see. The law condemns, and you must die; Descend, and tell the Fates that I Have stopped your preaching, and be sure My children's meals will be no fewer." JFIe kept his word; and to my fable I add a moral, as I'm able: Youth hopes to win all by address; But age is ever pitiless. Jean de La Fontaine. 54 THE CAT= A Cat's Conscience A dog will often steal a bone, But conscience lets him not alone, And by his tail his guilt is known. But cats consider theft a game, And, howsoever you may blame, Refuse the slightest sign of shame. When food mysteriously goes, The chances are that Pussy knows More than she leads you to suppose. And hence there is no need for you, If Puss declines a meal or two, To feel her pulse and make ado. Anonymous. 55 THE CAT Punchinello and the Cat Punchinello lay on the floor in a corner of the nursery. His little master had gone to school, and deserted him. The cat slipped in through a half-open door. She held in her mouth a ball of cotton which she had carried carefully upstairs, but which she dropped as soon as she caught sight of Punchinello. " What is that ? " she asked herself uneasily, and proceeded to make a stealthy tour of the room, feigning indifference, but creeping ever closer and closer to the fantastic little figure on the floor. He lay quiet, but she was none the less suspicious of his intentions. Crouching and quivering, she glared at him through half-shut eyes, as though seeking to measure his strength before challenging him with the war-cry of her race. — Ffff! Punchinello, wholly unconcerned, never so much as winked. A second and a louder challenge. — Fffffffff! Punchinello dozed tranquilly. Then from the cat's little body came a sound, deep and terrible, like the rumbling of far-off thunder. 56 THE CAT — Rrrrrrrrr ! There was no response. The cat's back rose into a miniature mountain, her fur bristled, all the grace and beauty which are born of a tranquil soul deserted her. She curveted sideways as though meditating an attack, and then sank slowly on the floor in the superb attitude of an Egyptian sphinx. Only her gleaming eyes and twitching tail betrayed the tumult of her soul. Like a diplomatist who, in his library, studies a map of Europe and plans the destruction of an empire, so the cat concealed her murderous designs until the time was ripe for action. She even seemed disposed to abandon the game of war, and leave her defenceless enemy at peace ; but this was pure hypocrisy. Another mo- ment, and she had leaped upon Punchinello, bury- ing her claws in his breast, and rending into shreds his rich embroidered coat. Well she knew that his master was at school, and, heedless of all the care that had been lavished upon her education, she forgot that she was a domestic cat, and became a beast of prey. Poor Punchinello! Of what avail now was his drum, or the stick with which he had dealt so many merry blows ? The cat dragged him over the floor, flung him hither and thither, clawed off his wig (unspeakable indignity!), lacerated him with her 57