(_For the Mirror_.)
The _cat mania_ has hitherto been more popular in France than in
England. To be sure, we have the threadbare story of Whittington and his
cat; Mrs. Griggs and her 86 living and 28 dead cats; Peter King and his
two cats in rich liveries; Foote's concert of cats; and the newspaper
story of tortoiseshell male cats--but in France, cats keep better
company, or at least are associated with better names. Thus, MOLIERE had
his favourite cat; Madame de Puis, the celebrated harpplayer, settled a
pension on her feline friend, which caused a law-suit, and brought into
action all the most celebrated lawyers of France; and M. L'Abbe de
Fontenu was in the habit of experimenting on these animals, one of which
he found could exist twenty-six months without drinking! which fact is
recorded in the History of the Royal Academy of Sciences at Paris, 1753.
Our present portrait is, however, of more recent date, being a free
translation from _Le Furet de Londres_, a French paper published in
London, whose columns are an agreeable accompaniment for a cup of
coffee. It is a mere _bagatelle_, and as an amusive trifle may not be
unacceptable.
My pretty little Puss, it is high time that I should pay a just tribute
to your merits. We often talk of people who do not esteem you;
therefore, why should I blush to give publicity to your perfection?
You are exceedingly well made; your fur boasts of the delicate varieties
of the tiger; your eyes are lively and pleasing; your velvet coat and
tail are of enviable beauty; and your agility, gracefulness, and
docility are, indeed, the admiration of all who behold you! Your moral
qualities are not less estimable; and we will attempt to recapitulate
them.
In the first place, you love me dearly, or at least you load me with
caresses; unless, like the rest of the world, you love me for yourself's
sake. I know well that you like me less than a slice of mutton, or the
leg of a fowl, but that is very simple; I am your master, and a leg of
mutton is as good again as one master, twice as good as two masters, &c.
You possess great sense, and good sense too, for you have precisely such
as is most useful to you; for every other kind of knowledge will make
you appear foolish.
Nature has given you nails, which men unpolitely call claws; they are
admirably constructed, and well jointed in a membrane, which is extended
or drawn up like the fingers of a glove; and at pleasure it becomes a
terrific claw, or a paw of velvet.
You understand the _physical laws of good and evil_. A cat who strangles
another will not be more culpable than a man who kills his fellow men.
My dear Cat, the great Hobbes never reasoned more clearly than you do!
You forget the past--you dream not of the future; but you turn the
present to account. Time flies not with you, but stands still, and all
your moments appear but as one. You know that your muscles will give
action to your limbs, and you know no other cause of your existence,
than existence itself. My dear Cat, you are a profound _materialist_!
You flatter the master who caresses you, you lick the hand that feeds
you, you fly from a larger animal than yourself, whilst you unsparingly
prey on the smaller ones. My dear Cat, you are a profound _politician_!
You live peaceably with the dog, who is your messmate; in gratitude to
me, you regulate your reception, good or bad, of all the animals under
my roof; thus, you raise your claw against such as you imagine mine
enemies, while you prick up your tail at the sight of my friends. My
dear Cat, you are a profound _moralist_!
When you promenade your graceful limbs upon a roof, on the edge of a
casement, or in some situation equally perilous, you show your dexterity
in opposing the bulk of your body to the danger. Your muscles extend or
relax themselves with judgment, and you enjoy security where other
animals would be petrified with fear. My dear Cat, you perfectly
understand the _laws of gravity_!
If through inadvertence, blundering, or haste, you lose your support or
hold, then you are admirable; you bend yourself in raising your back,
and carry the centre of gravity towards the umbilical region, by which
means you fall on your feet. My dear Cat, you are an excellent _natural
philosopher_!
If you travel in darkness, you expand the pupil of your eye, which, in
forming a perfect circle, describes a larger surface, and collects the
greater part of the luminous rays which are scattered in the atmosphere.
When you appear in daylight, your pupil takes an elliptic form,
diminishes, and receives only a portion of these rays, an excess of
which would injure your retina. My dear Cat, you are a perfect
_optician_!
When you wish to descend a precipice, you calculate the distance of the
solid points with astonishing accuracy. In the first place, you dangle
your legs as if to measure the space, which you divide in your judgment,
by the motions of your feet; then you throw yourself exactly upon the
wished-for spot, the distance to which you have compared with the effect
on your muscles. My dear Cat, you are a skilful _geometrician_!
When you wander in the country, you examine plants with judicious
nicety; you soon select that kind which pleases you, when you roll
yourself on it, and testify your joy by a thousand other gambols; you
know also the several grasses, and their medicinal effects on your
frame. My dear Cat, you are an excellent _botanist_!
Your voice merits no less eulogium; for few animals have one so
modulated. The rhyming pur of satisfaction, the fawning accents of
appeal, the vigorous bursts of passion, and innumerable diatonic
varieties, proceed from your larynx, according to the order of nature.
My dear Cat, you are a _dramatic musician_!
In your amusements, you prefer pantomime to dialogue; and you neglect
the pen to study the picture. But then what agility! what dancing! what
cross-capers! The difficulty never impairs the grace of the feat. Oh, my
dear Cat! you are a _delightful dancer_!
Lastly, my dear Puss, show me a man who possesses as many kinds of
knowledge as you do, and I will proclaim him a _living cyclopædia_, or
concentration of human wisdom. But, what do I see? I am praising you,
and you are fast asleep! This is still greater philosophy.
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