writer says: "Cats may be taught to perform tricks, such as leaping over
a stick, but they always do such feats unwillingly. There is at present
an exhibition of cats in Regent Street, who, at the bidding of their
master, an Italian, turn a wheel and draw up water in a bucket, ring a
bell; and in doing these things begin, continue, and stop as they are
commanded. But the _commencez_, _continuez_, _arretez_ of their keeper
is always enforced with a threatening eye, and often with a severe blow;
and the poor creatures exhibit the greatest reluctance to proceed with
their unnatural employments. They have a subdued and piteous look; but
the scratches upon their master's arms show that _his_ task is not
always an easy one."
[Illustration]
Of performing cats on the stage, there have been several "companies" of
late in London, one of which I went to see at the royal Aquarium,
Westminster; and I am bound to say that the relations between master and
cats were on a better footing than any that have hitherto come under my
notice. On each side of the stage there were cat kennels, from which the
cats made their appearance on a given signal, ran across, on or over
whatever was placed between, and disappeared quickly into the opposite
kennels. But about it all there was a decided air of _timidity_, and an
eagerness to _get the performance over_, and _done with it_. When the
cats came out they were caressed and encouraged, which seemed to have a
soothing effect, and I have a strong apprehension that they received
some dainty morsel when they reached their destination. One ran up a
pole at command, over which there was a cap at the top, into which it
disappeared for a few seconds, evidently for some reason, food
_perhaps_. It then descended. But before this supreme act several cats
had crossed a bridge of chairs, stepping only on the backs, until they
reached the opposite house or box into which to retire. The process was
repeated, and the performance varied by two cats crossing the bridge
together, one passing over and the other under the horizontal rung
between the seat and the top of the chair. A long plank was next
produced, upon which was placed a row of wine-bottles at intervals; and
the cats ran along the plank, winding in and out between the bottles,
first to the right, then to the left, without making a mistake. This
part of the performance was varied by placing on the top of each bottle
a flat disc of thick wood; one of the cats strode then from disc to
disc, without displacing or upsetting a bottle, while the other animal
repeated its serpentine walk on the plank below. The plank being
removed, a number of trestles were brought in, and placed at intervals
in a row between the two sets of houses, when the cats, on being called,
jumped from trestle to trestle, varying the feat by leaping through a
hoop, which was held up by the trainer between the trestles. To this
succeeded a performance on the tight rope, which was not the least
curious part of the exhibition. A rope being stretched across the arena
from house to house, the cats walked across in turn, without making a
mistake. Some white rats were then brought and placed at intervals along
the rope, when the cats, re-crossing from one end to the other, strode
over the rats without injuring them. A repetition of this feat was
rendered a little more difficult by substituting for rats, which sat
pretty quietly in one place, several white mice and small birds, which
were more restless, and kept changing their positions. The cats
re-crossed the rope, and passed over all these obstacles without even
noticing the impediments placed in their way, with one or two
exceptions, when they stopped, and cosseted one or more of the white
rats, two of which rode triumphantly on the back of a large black cat.
Perhaps the most odd performance was that of "Cat Harris," an imitator
of the voice of cats in 1747.
"When Foote first opened the Haymarket Theatre, amongst other projects
he proposed to entertain the public with imitation of cat-music. For
this purpose he engaged a man famous for his skill in mimicking the
mewing of the cat. This person was called 'Cat Harris.' As he did not
attend the rehearsal of this odd concert, Foote desired Shuter would
endeavour to find him out and bring him with him. Shuter was directed
to some court in the Minories, where this extraordinary musician lived;
but, not being able to find the house, Shuter began a cat solo; upon
this the other looked out of the window, and answered him with a cantata
of the same sort. 'Come along,' said Shuter; 'I want no better
information that you are the man. Foote stays for us; we cannot begin
the cat-opera without you.'"--CASSELL'S _Old and New London_, vol. iv.
[Illustration]
CAT-RACING IN BELGIUM.
"On festival days, parties of young men assemble in various places to
shoot with cross-bows and muskets, and prizes of considerable value are
often distributed to the winners. Then there are pigeon-clubs and
canary-clubs, for granting rewards to the trainers of the fleetest
carrier-pigeons and best warbling canaries. Of these clubs many
individuals of high rank are the honorary presidents, and even royal
princes deign to present them banners, without which no Belgian club can
lay claim to any degree of importance." But the most curious thing is
cat-racing, which takes place, according to an engraving, in the public
thoroughfare, the cats being turned loose at a given time. It is thus
described: "Cat-racing is a sport which stands high in popular favour.
In one of the suburbs of Liege it is an affair of annual observance
during carnival time. Numerous individuals of the feline tribe are
collected, each having round his neck a collar with a seal attached to
it, precisely like those of the carrier-pigeons. The cats are tied up in
sacks, and as soon as the clock strikes the solemn hour of midnight the
sacks are unfastened, the cats let loose, and the race begins. The
winner is the cat which first reaches home, and the prize awarded to its
owner is sometimes a ham, sometimes a silver spoon. On the occasion of
the last competition the prize was won by a blind cat."--_Pictorial
Times_, June 16th, 1860.
[Illustration]
CAT IMAGES.
Those with long memories will not have forgotten the Italian with a
board on his head, on which were tied a number of plaster casts, and
possibly still seem to hear, in the far away time, the unforgotten cry
of "Yah im-a-gees." Notably, among these works of art, were models of
cats--such cats, such expressive faces; and what forms! How droll, too,
were those with a moving head, wagging and nodding, as it were, with a
grave and thoughtful, semi-reproachful, vacant gaze! "Yah im-a-gees" has
passed on, and the country pedlar, with his "crockery" cats, mostly red
and white. "Sure such cats alive were never seen?" but in burnt clay
they existed, and often _adorned_ the mantel-shelves of the poor. What
must the live cat sitting before the fire have thought--if cats
think--when it looked up at the stolid, staring, stiff and stark
new-comer? One never sees these things now; nor the cats made of
paste-board covered with black velvet, and two large brass spangles for
eyes. These were put into dark corners with an idea of deception, with
the imbecile hope that visitors would take them to be real flesh and
bone everyday black cats. But was any one ever taken in but--the maker?
Then there were cats, and cats and kittens, made of silk, for selling at
fancy fairs, not much like cats, but for the _purposes_ good. Cats
sitting on pen-wipers; clay cats of burnt brick-earth. These were
generally something to remember rather than possess. Wax cats also, with
a cotton wick coming out at the top of the head. It was a saddening
sight to see these _beauties_ burning slowly away. Was this a "remnant"
of the burning of the live cats in the "good old times?" And cats made
of rabbits' skins were not uncommon, and far better to give children to
play with than the tiny, lovable, patient, live kitten, which, if it
submit to be tortured, it is well, but if it resent pain and suffering,
then it is beaten. There is more ill done "from want of thought than
want of heart."
But kittens have fallen upon evil times, ay, even in these days of
education and enlightenment. As long as the world lasts probably there
will be the foolish, the gay, unthinking, and, in tastes, the
ridiculous. But then there are, and there ever will be, those that are
always craving, thirsting, longing, shall I say _mad_?--for something
_new_. Light-headed, with softened intellects who must--_they_ say _they
must_--have some excitement or some novelty, no matter what, to talk of
or possess, though all this is ephemeral, and the silliness only lasts a
few hours. Long or short, they are never conscious of these absurdities,
and look forward with all the eagerness of doll-pleased infancy for
another--craze. The world is being denuded of some of its brightest
ornaments and its heaven-taught music, in the slaughter of birds, to
gratify for scarcely a few hours the insane vanity, that is now rife in
the ball-room--fashion.
What has all this to do with cats? Why, this class of people are not
content, they never are so; but are adding to the evil by piling up a
fresh one. It is the kitten now, the small, about two or three weeks old
kitten that is the "fashion." Not long ago they were killed and stuffed
for children to play with--better so than alive, perhaps; but now they
are to please children of a larger _growth_, their tightly filled
skins, adorned with glass eyes, being put in sportive attitudes about
portrait frames, and such like uses. It is comical, and were it not for
the stupid bad taste and absurdity of the thing, one would feel inclined
to laugh at _clambering_ kitten skins about, and supposed to be peeping
into the face of a languor-struck "beauty." Who buys such? Does any one?
If so, where do they go? Over thirty kittens in one shop window. What
next, and--next? Truly frivolity is not dead!
From these, and such as these, turn to the models fair and proper; the
china, the porcelain, the terra cotta, the bronze, and the silver, both
English, French, German, and Japanese; some exquisite, with all the
character, elegance, and grace of the living animals. In these there has
been a great advance of late years, Miss A. Chaplin taking the lead.
Then in bold point tracery on pottery Miss Barlow tells of the animal's
flowing lines and non-angular posing. Art--true art--all of it; and art
to be coveted by the lover of cats, or for art alone.
But I have almost forgotten the old-time custom of, when the young
ladies came from school, bringing home a "sampler," in the days before
linen stamping was known or thought of. On these in needlework were
alphabets, numbers, trees (such trees), dogs, and cats. Then, too, there
were cats of silk and satin, in needlework, and cats in various
materials; but the most curious among the young people's accomplishments
was the making of tortoiseshell cats from a snail-shell, with a smaller
one for a head, with either wax or bread ears, fore-legs and tail, and
yellow or green beads for eyes. Droll-looking things--very. I give a
drawing of one. And last, not least often, the edible cats--cats made of
cheese, cats of sweet sponge-cake, cats of sugar, and once I saw a cat
of jelly. In the old times of country pleasure fairs, when every one
brought home gingerbread nuts and cakes as "a fairing," the gingerbread
"cat in boots" was not forgotten nor left unappreciated; generally
fairly good in form, and gilt over with Dutch metal, it occupied a place
of honour in many a country cottage home, and, for the matter of that,
also in the busy town. If good gingerbread, it was saved for many a
day, or until the holiday time was ended and feasting over, and the next
fair talked of.
But, after all "said and done," what a little respect, regard, and
reverence is there in our mode to that of the Egyptians! They had three
varieties of cats, but they were all the same to them; as their pets, as
useful, beautiful, and typical, they were individually and nationally
regarded, their bodies embalmed, and verses chaunted in their praise;
and the image of the cat then--a thousand years ago--was a deity. What
do they think of the cat now, these same though modern Egyptians?
Scarcely anything. And we, who in bygone ages persecuted it, to-day give
it a growing recognition as an animal both useful, beautiful, and worthy
of culture.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
LOVERS OF CATS.
"The Turks greatly admire Cats; to them, their alluring Figure appears
preferable to the Docility, Instinct, and Fidelity of the Dog. Mahomet
was very partial to Cats. It is related, that being called up on some
urgent Business, he preferred _cutting off_ the Sleeve of his Robe, to
_waking_ the Cat, that lay upon it _asleep_. Nothing more was necessary,
to bring these Animals into high Request. A Cat may even enter a Mosque;
it is caressed there, as the Favourite Animal of the Prophet; while the
Dog, that should dare appear in the Temples, would _pollute_ them with
his Presence, and would be punished with instant _Death_."[H]
[H] Daniel's "Rural Sports," 1813.
I am indebted to the Rev. T. G. Gardner, of St. Paul's Cray, for the
following from the French:
"A recluse, in the time of Gregory the Great, had it revealed to him in
a vision that in the world to come he should have equal share of
beatitude with that Pontiff; but this scarcely contented him, and he
thought some compensation was his due, inasmuch as the Pope enjoyed
immense wealth in this present life, and he himself had nothing he could
call his own save one pet cat. But in another vision he was censured;
his worldly detachment was not so entire as he imagined, and that
Gregory would with far greater equanimity part with his vast treasures
than he could part with his beloved puss."
CATS ENDOWED BY LA BELLE STEWART.--One of the chief ornaments of the
Court of St. James', in the reign of Charles II., was "La Belle
Stewart," afterwards the Duchess of Richmond, to whom Pope alluded as
the "Duchess of R." in the well-known line:
Die and endow a college or a cat.
The endowment satirised by Pope has been favourably explained by Warton.
She left annuities to several female friends, with the burden of
maintaining some of her cats--a delicate way of providing for poor and
probably proud gentlewomen, without making them feel that they owed
their livelihood to her mere liberality. But possibly there may have
been a kindliness of thought for both, deeming that those who were dear
friends would be most likely to attend to her wishes.
Mr. Samuel Pepys had at least a gentle nature as regards animals, if he
was not a lover of cats, for in his Diary occurs this note as to the
Fire of London, 1666:
"_September 5th._--Thence homeward having passed through
Cheapside and Newgate Market, all burned; and seen Antony Joyce's
house on fire. And took up (which I keep by me) a piece of glass
of Mercer's chapel in the street, where much more was, so melted
and buckled with the heat of the fire like parchment. I did also
see a poor cat taken out of a hole in a chimney, joining the wall
of the Exchange, with the hair all burned off its body and yet
alive."
Dr. Jortin wrote a Latin epitaph on a favourite cat:[I]
[I] Hone's "Every-day Book," vol. i.
IMITATED IN ENGLISH.
"Worn out with age and dire disease, a cat, Friendly to all,
save wicked mouse and rat, I'm sent at last to ford the
Stygian lake, And to the infernal coast a voyage make. Me
_Proserpine_ receiv'd, and smiling said, 'Be bless'd within
these mansions of the dead. Enjoy among thy velvet-footed
loves, Elysian's sunny banks and shady groves.' 'But if I've
well deserv'd (O gracious queen), If patient under sufferings
I have been, Grant me at least one night to visit home again,
Once more to see my home and mistress dear, And purr these
grateful accents in her ear: "Thy faithful cat, thy poor
departed slave, Still loves her mistress, e'en beyond the
grave."'"
"Dr. Barker kept a Seraglio and Colony of Cats. It happened, that at the
Coronation of George I. the Chair of State fell to his Share of the
Spoil (as Prebendary of Westminster) which he sold to some Foreigner;
when they packed it up, one of his favourite Cats was inclosed along
with it; but the Doctor pursued his treasure in a boat to Gravesend and
recovered her safe. When the Doctor was disgusted with the _Ministry_,
he gave his _Female_ Cats, the Names of the _Chief Ladies_ about the
Court; and the _Male-ones_, those of the _Men in Power_, adorning them
with the Blue, Red, or Green Insignia of Ribbons, which the Persons they
represented, wore."[J]
[J] Daniel's "Rural Sports," 1813.
Daniel, in his "Rural Sports," 1813, mentions the fact that, "In one of
the Ships of the Fleet, that sailed lately from Falmouth, for the West
Indies, went as Passengers a Lady and her _seven Lap-dogs_, for the
Passage of _each_ of which, she paid _Thirty Pounds_, on the express
Condition, that they were to _dine_ at the Cabin-table, and lap their
_Wine_ afterwards. Yet these happy dogs do not engross the _whole_ of
their good Lady's Affection; she has also, in Jamaica, FORTY CATS, and a
Husband."
"The Partiality to the _domestic_ Cat, has been thus established. Some
Years since, a Lady of the name of Greggs, died at an advanced Age, in
Southampton Row, London. Her fortune was _Thirty Thousand Pounds_, at
the Time of her Decease. _Credite Posteri!_ her _Executors_ found in her
House _Eighty-six living_, and _Twenty-eight dead Cats_. Her Mode of
Interring them, was, as they died, to place them in different Boxes,
which were heaped on one another in Closets, as the _Dead_ are described
by Pennant, to be in the Church of St. Giles. She had a black Female
Servant--to Her she left One hundred and fifty pounds _per annum_ to
keep the _Favourites_, whom she left _alive_."[K]
[K] Daniel's "Rural Sports," 1813.
The Chantrel family of Rottingdean seem also to be possessed with a
similar kind of feeling towards cats, exhibiting no fewer than
twenty-one specimens at one Cat Show, which at the time were said to
represent only a small portion of their stock; these ultimately became
almost too numerous, getting beyond control.
_Signor Foli_ is a lover of cats, and has exhibited at the Crystal
Palace Cat Show.
_Petrarch_ loved his cat almost as much as he loved Laura, and when it
died he had it embalmed.
_Tasso_ addressed one of his best sonnets to his female cat.
_Cardinal Wolsey_ had his cat placed near him on a chair while acting in
his judicial capacity.
_Sir I. Newton_ was also a lover of cats, and there is a good story told
of the philosopher having two holes made in a door for his cat and her
kitten to enter by--a _large_ one for the cat, and a _small_ one for the
kitten.
_Peg Woffington_ came to London at twenty-two years of age. After
calling many times unsuccessfully at the house of John Rich, the manager
of Covent Garden, she at last sent up her name. She was admitted, and
found him lolling on a sofa, surrounded by twenty-seven cats of all
ages.
The following is from the _Echo_, respecting a lady well known in her
profession: "Miss Ellen Terry has a passionate fondness for cats. She
will frolic for hours with her feline pets, never tiring of studying
their graceful gambols. An author friend of mine told me of once reading
a play to her. During the reading she posed on an immense tiger-skin,
surrounded by a small army of cats. At first the playful capers of the
mistress and her pets were toned down to suit the quiet situations of
the play; but as the reading progressed, and the plot approached a
climax, the antics of the group became so vigorous and drolly excited
that my poor friend closed the MS. in despair, and abandoned himself to
the unrestrained expression of his mirth, declaring that if he could
write a play to equal the fun of Miss Terry and her cats, his fortune
would be made."
_Cowper_ loved his pet hares, spaniel, and cat, and wrote the well-known
"Cat retired from business."
_Gray_ wrote a poem on a cat drowned in a vase which contained
gold-fish.
_Cardinal Richelieu_ was a lover of the cat.
_Montaigne_ had a favourite cat.
Among painters, Gottfried Mind was not only fond of cats, but was one
of, if not the best at portraying them in action; and in England no one
has surpassed Couldery in delineation, nor Miss Chaplin in perfection of
modelling. I am the fortunate possessor of several of her models in
terra cotta, which, though small, are beautiful in finish. Of one, Miss
Chaplin informed me, the details were scratched in with a pin, for want
of better and proper tools.
GAMES.
CAT'S CRADLE OR CATCH CRADLE.
Dr. Brewer, in his "Dictionary of Phrase and Fable," thinks this "the
corrupt for cratch cradle or manger cradle, in which the infant Saviour
was laid. Cratch is the French _creche_ (a rack or manger), and to the
present hour the racks which stand in the fields for cattle to eat from
are called _cratches_." Of this, however, I am doubtful, though there is
much reason in his suggestion. In Sussex and Kent, when I was a boy, it
was commonly played among children, but always called cat's, _catch_, or
scratch cradle, and consisted generally of two or more players. A piece
of string, being tied at the ends, was placed on the fingers, and
crossed and re-crossed to make a sort of cradle; the next player
inserted his or her fingers, quickly taking it off; then the first
catching it back, then the second again, then the first, as fast as
possible, _catching_ and taking off the string. Sometimes the sides were
caught by the teeth of the players, one on each side, and as the hands
were relaxed the faces were apart, then when drawn out it brought the
faces together; the string being let go or not, and caught again as it
receded, was according to the will of the players, the catching and
letting go affording much merriment. When four or five played, the
string rapidly passed from hand to hand until, in the rapidity of the
motion, one missed, who then stood out, and so on until only one was
left, winning the game of cat's, _catch_, or scratch cradle. It was
varied also to single and double cradle, according to the number of
crossings of the string. Catch is easily converted into _cat's_, or it
might be so called from the _catching_ or clawing at, to get and to
hold, the entanglement.
CAT-TRAP, BAT, AND BALL.[L]
With the form of the trap our readers are, doubtless, acquainted; it
will only be necessary for us to give the laws of the game. Two
boundaries are equally placed at some distance from the trap, between
which it is necessary for the ball to pass when struck by the batsman;
if it fall outside either of them he loses his innings. Innings are
drawn for, and the player who wins places the ball in the spoon of the
trap, touches the trigger with the bat, and, as the ball ascends from
the trap, strikes it as far as he can. One of the other players (who may
be from two to half-a-dozen) endeavours to catch it. If he do so before
it reaches the ground, or hops more than once, or if the striker miss
the ball when he aims at it, or hits the trigger more than once without
striking the ball, he loses his innings, and the next in order, which
must previously be agreed on, takes his place. Should the ball be fairly
struck, and not caught, as we have stated, the out-player, into whose
hand it comes, bowls it from the place where he picks it up, at the
trap, which if he hit, the striker is out; if he miss it the striker
counts one towards the game, which may be any number decided on. There
is also a practice in some places, when the bowler has sent in the ball,
of the striker's guessing the number of bats' lengths it is from the
trap; if he guess within the real number he reckons that number toward
his game, but if he guess more than there really are he loses his
innings. It is not necessary to make the game in one innings.
PUSS IN THE CORNER.[L]
[L] The Boy's Own Book.
This is a very simple, but, at the same time, a very lively and amusing
game. It is played by five only; and the place chosen for the sport
should be a square court or yard with four corners, or any place where
there are four trees or posts, about equidistant from each other, and
forming the four points of a square. Each of these points or corners is
occupied by a player; the fifth, who is called Puss, stands in the
centre. The game now commences; the players exchange corners in all
directions; it is the object of the one who stands out to occupy any of
the corners which may remain vacant for an instant during the exchanges.
When he succeeds in so doing, that player who is left without a corner
becomes the puss. It is to be observed, that if A and B attempt to
exchange corners, and A gets to B's corner, but B fails to reach A's
before the player who stands out gets there, it is B and not A who
becomes Puss.
CAT AND MOUSE.