[Illustration: CHAPTER VI.]
_Of various kinds of Cats, Ancient and Modern._
Now, although this is the _Book of Cats_, do you know I am more than half
afraid that if I give you too much about Cats in it, you will go away
dissatisfied. Some years ago there was a great rage for mechanics’
institutions and instructive lectures on things generally, and one half
the world was for jumping on to the platform and improving the mind of the
other half in gases and ologies; and, in those days, there was one
particular sort of lecture, which might be roughly described as hard words
and an explosion, with which the frequenter of all institutes was
perfectly familiar; and you may remember, too, how we did not so much care
about the words, but thought that the stuff out of the bottle, that went
off with a bang, was the best fun out. Carried away by the popularity of
these oratorical and chemical displays, the heads of schools were wont to
encourage lecturing on a small scale among their pupils, only suppressing
the explosive part of the entertainment as too dangerous; and young
gentlemen told other young gentlemen what they knew rather better than the
young gentlemen telling them respecting the ology of which they treated.
In like fashion, I am afraid I may be only telling you what you know
already, or what you might have known, but have not cared about learning.
The fact is, all that this chapter contains is to be elsewhere found at
greater length. I have no new theories of my own upon the subject, and,
indeed, would not presume to argue the question of the domestic Cat’s
origin with those who have so ably treated the subject in books long since
written. To tell the truth, I was not myself very much interested about
the matter when I began to read the arguments on either side. Will you be?
I am inclined to think not. However, here is a brief statement of the
case, which is easily skipped if not approved of.
M. Rüppel, who discovered in the wild regions west of the Nile a Cat about
one-third smaller than the European Cat, and having a longer tail, is of
opinion that the animal was descended from the domestic Cat of the ancient
Egyptians, and that the Egyptian and our domestic Cat are identical.
Temminck is of the same opinion; but Professor Owen objects to this
theory, because the first deciduous molar-tooth of the Egyptian Cat has a
relatively thicker crown, and is supported by three roots, whilst the
corresponding tooth of the domestic and wild Cat of Europe has a thinner
crown, and only two roots. A writer on the subject, in 1836, says, there
is no doubt but that the wild Cat of the European forests is the tame Cat
of European houses; that the wild Cat at some period has been
domesticated, and that the tame Cat would become wild if turned into the
woods. Mr. Bell, however, with regard to the belief that the common wild
Cat is the father of the tame, says, that the general conformation of the
two animals is considerably different, especially in the length and form
of the tail. The fur, too, of the wild Cat is thicker and longer.
Sir William Jardine thinks that, since the introduction of our house Cat
to this country, there may have been an accidental cross with the wild
native species, by which the difference in form between the wild and tame
Cat may be accounted for. “The domestic Cat,” says he, “is the only one of
this race which has been generally used in the economy of man. Some of the
other small species have shown that they might be applied to similar
purposes; and we have seen that the general disposition of this family
will not prevent their training. Much pains would have been necessary to
effect this, and none of the European nations were likely to have
attempted it. The scarcity of Cats in Europe, in its earliest ages, is
also well known, and in the tenth and eleventh centuries a good mouser
brought a high price.”
Another author, quoting the above, says:--
“Although our opinion coincides with that of Rüppel, and we think that we
are indebted to the superstition of the ancient Egyptians for having
domesticated the species mentioned by Rüppel, we have no doubt that since
its introduction to this country, and more particularly to the north of
Scotland, there have been occasional crosses with our native species, and
that the result of these crosses have been kept in our houses. We have
seen many Cats very closely resembling the wild Cat, and one or two which
could scarcely be distinguished from it. There is, perhaps, no other
animal that so soon loses its cultivation and returns apparently to a
state completely wild: the tasting of some wild and living food may tempt
them to seek it again and to leave their civilized homes. They then prowl
about in the same manner as their prey, couching in the long grass and
brush-wood, and hiding themselves from all publicity.”
No game destroyer, however, is more easily caught than the Cat. In summer,
when rabbit-paunches will not keep on account of the weather, a little
valerian root is used as a bait. The Cats come to rub themselves on it,
finding some unaccountable pleasure in so doing. The valerian root is of a
whitish colour, and it has a very strong and disagreeable smell: it is
used by us as a medicine in nervous disorders, and its good effects
against headaches, low-spirits, and trembling of the limbs are well known.
A story is told of a little boy home for the holidays who played an old
lady this trick:--He put some valerian root under the hearth-rug, which
set the Cat scratching, rubbing her back on it, and performing a hundred
antics, till the old lady, getting frightened, thought Puss had gone mad.
The boy then quietly took away the valerian. The Cat grew calm again, and
the old lady was much astonished.
It is a cruel custom in some parts of the country to cut off the ears of
Cats and remove the hairs all round the exposed aperture of the ear, to
prevent the animal from poaching in the woods. It is thought that by so
doing, the wet off the bushes and grass may get into the internal cavity
of the ear, and by the pain cause the Cat to desist from the chase. Cats
so mutilated, however, often choose fine days for their poaching
expeditions.
A Cat caught in a trap is a dangerous customer to let loose again. If the
door be opened incautiously, the Cat will probably fly at the catcher’s
face the moment she sees the light. The only safe way of getting the Cat
out of the trap is to place a sack over the door end of the trap, and then
rattle the other end with a stick. The animal runs at once into the sack.
Wild Cats not only eat birds, but seek eagerly after their eggs, of which
they are passionately fond.
Regarding the wild Cat, Pennant says, “It may be called the ‘British
Tiger’: it is the fiercest and most destructive beast we have; making
dreadful havoc amongst our poultry, lambs and birds. It inhabits the most
mountainous and wooded parts of these islands, living mostly in trees and
feeding only at night. It multiplies as fast as our common Cats.”
A wild Cat is said to have been killed in Cumberland (my authority gives
no date) which measured above five feet in length from the nose to the end
of the tail.
Mr. Timbs relates how, in 1850, he saw, at No. 175, Oxford Street, a
beautifully-marked tabby Cat weighing 25¾ lbs., and measuring 27 inches
round the body, and 37 inches from the tip of the tail to the end of the
nose; height to top of shoulders 11½ inches: he was then seven years old.
The tame Cat’s tail ends in a point; the wild Cat’s in a tuft. The head of
the wild Cat is triangular and strongly marked, the ears triangular,
large, long and pointed.
At the village of Barnborough, in Yorkshire, there is a tradition extant
of a serious conflict that once took place between a man and a wild Cat.
The inhabitants say that the fight began in an adjacent wood, and that the
man and Cat fought from thence to the porch of the church, where each died
of the wounds received. A rude painting in the church commemorates the
sanguinary event, and the red colour of some of the stones are, of course,
said to be blood-stains, which all the soap and water in the world could
not remove.
In the reign of Richard II. wild Cats were reckoned among the beasts of
the chase, and there was an edict that no man should use more costly
apparel than that made of lambs’ or Cats’-skins.
In Egypt Cats were considered sacred to the Goddess Bubastis, the Egyptian
Diana. Her priestesses were vowed to celibacy: they passed a great portion
of their time attending on the Cats of the temple. Mrs. Loudon suggests
that hence, perhaps, may have arisen the idea that a fondness for Cats is
a sign of old maidism.
Apollo created the lion to terrify his sister Diana, and she turned his
fearful beast into ridicule by mimicking it in the form of a Cat. Cats
were dedicated to Diana, not only when she bore her proper name, but when
she was called “Hecate.” Witches who worshipped Hecate had always a
favourite Cat.
A very great number of Cats’ mummies, discovered in Egypt, afford ample
proof of the esteem in which Pussy was held in “Thebes’ Streets Three
Thousand Years Ago.” If one died a natural death, it was mourned for with
many ceremonies; among others the entire household, where the death took
place, shaved off their eyebrows. If killed, the murderer was given up to
the mob to buffet him to death. Cats were held sacred when alive, and when
they died were embalmed and deposited in the niches of the catacombs. An
insult offered by a Roman to a Cat caused an insurrection among the
Egyptians when nothing else could excite them. Cambyses gained Pelusis,
which had previously successfully resisted all attacks, by the following
stratagem:--He gave to each of his soldiers employed in the attack a live
Cat, instead of a buckler, and the Egyptians, rather than hurt the objects
of their veneration, suffered themselves to be vanquished without striking
a blow.
Herodotus tells us that “on every occasion of a fire in Egypt, the
strangest prodigy occurs with the Cats. The inhabitants allow the fire to
rage as long 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.”
In some of the curious Egyptian pictures at the British Museum, you may
see the representation of Cats being trained to catch birds.
Cats are frequently trained in California to catch a species of burrowing
pouched rat, called a gopher, a destructive animal infesting fields and
gardens. Cats, so trained, are very valuable.
We are told that there was once a Cape in the Island of Cyprus, which was
called Cat Cape. A monastery stood here, the monks of which were compelled
by their vows to keep a great number of Cats, to wage war against the
snakes, with which the Island was swarming. At the sound of a certain bell
the Cats came trooping home to their meals, and then rushed out again to
the chase. When, however, the Turks conquered the Island, they destroyed
both the Cats and their home.
In the middle ages, animals formed as prominent a part in the worship of
the time as in the old religion of Egypt. The Cat was a very important
personage in religious festivals. At Aix, in Provence, on the festival of
Corpus Christi, the finest Tom-cat of the country, wrapt in swaddling
clothes like a child, was exhibited in a magnificent shrine to public
admiration. Every knee was bent, every hand strewed flowers, or poured
incense, and Grimalkin was treated in all respects as the god of the day.
But on the festival of St. John, poor Tom’s fate was reversed. A number of
the tabby tribe were put into a wicker basket, and thrown alive into the
midst of an immense fire, kindled in the public square by the bishop and
his clergy. Hymns and anthems were sung, and processions were made by the
priest and people in honour of the sacrifice.
In the reign of Howel the Good, who died in 948, a law was made in Wales,
fixing the price of the Cat, which was then of great scarcity. A kitten
before it got its sight was to cost one penny; until a warranty was given
of its having caught a mouse, twopence; after this important event,
fourpence, and a very high price, too, the times considered. The Cat,
however, was required to be perfect in its senses of seeing and hearing,
should be a good mouser, have its claws uninjured, and, if a lady pussy,
be a good mamma. If after it was sold, it was found wanting in any of
these particulars, the seller was to forfeit a third of the
purchase-money. If any one stole or killed the Cat that was guarding the
prince’s granary, the criminal forfeited a milch ewe with her fleece and
lamb, or as much wheat as when poured upon a Cat suspended by its tail,
would bury the animal up to the top of its tail.
In Abyssinia, Cats are so valuable, that a marriageable girl who is likely
to come in for a Cat, is looked upon as quite an heiress.
The resemblance between the Tiger and the Cat is so striking, that little
children first taken to the Zoological Gardens almost always call the
Tigers great Cats; and, in their native woods, Tigers purr.
The domestic species require no description, but one or two of the
varieties may be mentioned:
The Cat of Angora, is a very beautiful variety, with silvery hair of fine
silken texture, generally longest on the neck, but also long on the tail.
Some are yellowish, and others olive, approaching to the colour of the
Lion; but they are all delicate creatures, and of gentle dispositions. Mr.
Wood, while staying in Paris, made the acquaintance of an Angora, which
ate two plates of almond biscuits at a sitting. This breed of Cats has
singular tastes; I knew one that took very kindly to gin and water, and
was rather partial to curry. He also ate peas, greens, and broad beans
(in moderation). Most Cats are fond of asparagus.
The Persian Cat is a variety with hair very long, and very silky, perhaps
more so than the Cat of Angora; it is however differently coloured, being
of a fine uniform grey on the upper part, with the texture of the fur as
soft as silk, and the lustre glossy; the colour fades off on the lower
parts of the sides, and passes into white, or nearly so, on the belly.
This is, probably, one of the most beautiful varieties, and it is said to
be exceedingly gentle in its manners.
The Chinese Cat has the fur beautifully glossed, but it is very different
from either of those which have been mentioned. It is variegated with
black and yellow, and, unlike most of the race, has the ears pendulous.
Bosman, writing about the ears, says: “It is worthy of observation, that
there is in animals evident signs of ancestry of their slavery. Long ears
are produced by time and civilization, and all wild animals have straight
round ears.”
The Tortoise-shell or Spanish Cat is one of the prettiest varieties of
those which have the fur of moderate length, and without any particular
silvery gloss. The colours are very pure, black, white, and reddish
orange; and, in this country, at least, males thus marked are said to be
rare, though they are quite common in Egypt and the south of Europe. This
variety has other qualities to recommend it, besides the beauty of its
colours. Tortoise-shell Cats are very elegant, though delicate in their
form, and are, at the same time, very active, and among the most attached
and grateful of the whole race.
Bluish grey is not a common colour; this species are styled “Chartreux
Cats,” and are esteemed rarities.
The Manx Cat is perhaps the most singular; its limbs are gaunt, its fur
close set, its eyes staring and restless, and it has no tail; that is to
say, there is only a sort of knob as though its tail had been amputated.
“A black Manx Cat,” says a modern writer, “with its staring eyes and its
stump of a tail, is a most measly looking beast, which would find a more
appropriate resting place at Kirk Alloway or the Black Bay, than at the
fireside of a respectable household. So it might fitly be the quadrupedal
form in which the ancient sorcerers were wont to clothe themselves on
their nocturnal excursions.”
I read in an article by Mr. Lord that there is a variety of tailless Cats
found in various parts of the world, and he suggests that this
deficiency may be due to an accident originally, but perpetuated by
interbreeding. I am not quite of the same opinion. It reminds one of the
old saying, “It runs in the blood, like wooden legs.”
I recollect the case of a young gentleman who devoted his leisure evenings
to cutting off Cats’ tails in the neighbourhood in which he lived. He hung
them up in bunches to dry, and had rare sport, while it lasted, in making
the collection, only some one, who was a Cat-owner, did not see the fun of
it, and put an end to the joke. Some young men think it a manly sport to
kill or hunt down Cats; and, by the way, do you remember Sir Robert Peel’s
memorable speech about the Volunteers, thus reported in _Hansard_?:--
“At Hythe the first prize was carried off by a genuine Cockney. Upon being
asked how he had acquired his extraordinary skill and precision--
“‘Oh,’ said he, as reported in the columns of the _Court Journal_, ‘I live
in London, and have had considerable practice in shooting at the Cats of
my Brompton neighbours.’
“It was not, perhaps, of much consequence in the depth of winter
(continued Sir R. Peel), but no man could tell what a scene London would
present in the height of the season. Everybody would be shooting at his
neighbour’s Cat. There would be the stoker of the Railway Rifles potting
at the funnels of the North Western, and we should have the Finsbury
Filibusters fluking over Cripplegate. He trusted, however, that before
that time a stop would be put to the Volunteer movement,” etc., etc.
Cats do certainly seem to enjoy themselves on moonlight nights, anyhow
they make noise enough. The Cat was believed by the ancients to stand in
some relation to the moon, for Plutarch says that the Cat was the symbol
of the moon on account of her different colours, her busy ways at night,
and her giving birth to twenty-eight young ones during the course of her
life, which is exactly the number of the phases of the moon.
The ancients identified Bubastis with the Greek Artemis (or Diana), and
each was regarded as the Goddess of the moon. Bubastis was generally
represented as a woman with a Cat’s head.
It might occur to some, that “Puss” is derived from the Egyptian name,
_Pasht_; but perhaps it is better to acquiesce in the derivation from the
Latin, _Pusus_ (a little boy), or _Pusa_ (a little girl). By others this
term is thought to be a corruption of _Pers_. The French of Cat is
_Chat_; the German, _Katze_; the Italian, _Gatto_; the Spanish, _Gato_;
the Dutch and Danish, _Kat_; the Welsh, _Cath_; the Latin, _Catus_: the
French of Puss is _Minette_. You have heard the story, I suppose, of the
person who being told to decline the noun Cat, when he came to the
vocative, said “O Cat!” on which he was reminded that if he spoke to a Cat
he would say “Puss.”
Mr. Buchton says, that “the only language in which the name of the Cat is
significant, is the Zend, where the word _Gatu_, almost identical with the
Spanish _Gato_, means a place--a word peculiarly significant in reference
to this animal, whose attachment is peculiar to place, and not to the
person, so strikingly indicated by the dog.”
In some parts of Lancashire, a Tom is still called a “Gib” or “Gibbe” Cat,
the _g_ being pronounced _hard_, not _jibbe_, as found in most
dictionaries. According to Nares, Gib, the contraction of Gilbert, was the
name formerly applied to a Cat, as Tom is now, and that Tibert, as given
in _Reynard the Fox_, was the old French for Gilbert. Chaucer in his
_Romance of the Rose_ translates _Thibert le Cas_ by “Gibbe our Cat.”
Shakespeare applies the word Gibbe to an old worn-out animal. The term
Gib-face means the lower lip of a horse. In mechanics, the pieces of
iron employed to clasp together the pieces of wood or metal of a frame
which is to be keyed previous to inserting the keys, are called Gibs.
Anyone curious upon the subject of Gib Cats, may find the subject treated
at length in the _Etymologicon_.