of our eldest daughter when a very young child, "Your little baby loves
the pussy, and pussy sheathes her claws most carefully, but should baby
draw back her arm suddenly, and pussy accidentally scratch that tender
skin, how the little girl cries! It is, perhaps, her first lesson that
sweets and bitters, pleasures and pains, meekness and ferocity, are
mingled in this world."[123]
JEREMY BENTHAM AND HIS PET CAT "SIR JOHN LANGBORN."
Dr, afterwards Sir John, Bowring, in the life of that diligent eccentric
"codificator," Jeremy Bentham,[124] thus alludes to some of his
pets:--"Bentham was very fond of animals, particularly '_pussies_,' as
he called them, 'when they had domestic virtues;' but he had no
particular affection for the common race of _cats_. He had one, however,
of which he used to boast that he had 'made a man of him,' and whom he
was wont to invite to eat maccaroni at his own table. This puss got
knighted, and rejoiced in the name of Sir John Langborn. In his early
days, he was a frisky, inconsiderate, and, to say the truth, somewhat
profligate gentleman; and had, according to the report of his patron,
the habit of seducing light and giddy young ladies of his own race into
the garden of Queen's Square Place; but tired at last, like Solomon, of
pleasures and vanities, he became sedate and thoughtful--took to the
church, laid down his knightly title, and was installed as the Reverend
John Langborn. He gradually obtained a great reputation for sanctity and
learning, and a doctor's degree was conferred upon him. When I knew him,
in his declining days, he bore no other name than the Reverend Doctor
John Langborn; and he was alike conspicuous for his gravity and
philosophy. Great respect was invariably shown his reverence; and it was
supposed he was not far off from a mitre, when old age interfered with
his hopes and honours. He departed amidst the regrets of his many
friends, and was gathered to his fathers, and to eternal rest, in a
cemetery in Milton's Garden.[125]
"'I had a cat,' he said, 'at Hendon, which used to follow me about even
in the street. George Wilson was very fond of animals too. I remember a
cat following him as far as Staines. There was a beautiful pig at
Hendon, which I used to rub with my stick. He loved to come and lie down
to be rubbed, and took to following me like a dog. I had a remarkably
intellectual cat, who never failed to attend one of us when we went
round the garden. He grew quite a tyrant, insisting on being fed and on
being noticed. He interrupted my labours. Once he came with a most
hideous yell, insisting on the door being opened. He tormented Jack
(Colls) so much, that Jack threw him out of the window. He was so
clamorous that it could not be borne, and means were found to send him
to another world. His moral qualities were most despotic--his
intellectual extraordinary; but he was a universal nuisance."
"'From my youth I was fond of cats, as I am still. I was once playing
with one in my grandmother's room. I had heard the story of cats having
nine lives, and being sure of falling on their legs; and I threw the cat
out of the window on the grass-plot. When it fell it turned towards me,
looked in my face and mewed. "Poor thing!" I said, "thou art reproaching
me with my unkindness." I have a distinct recollection of all these
things. Cowper's story of his hares had the highest interest for me when
young; for I always enjoyed the society of tame animals. Wilson had the
same taste--so had Romilly, who kept a noble puss, before he came into
great business. I never failed to pay it my respects. I remember
accusing Romilly of violating the commandment in the matter of cats. My
fondness for animals exposed me to many jokes.'"
BISSET AND HIS MUSICAL CATS.
S. Bisset, to whom we referred before, was a Scotchman, born at Perth.
He went to London as a shoemaker; but afterwards turned a broker. About
1739 he turned his attention to the teaching of animals. He was very
successful, and among the subjects of his experiments were three young
cats. Wilson, in his "Eccentric Mirror,"[126] has recorded that "he
taught these domestic tigers to strike their paws in such directions on
the dulcimer, as to produce several tunes, having music-books before
them, and squalling at the same time in different keys or tones, first,
second, and third, by way of concert. In such a city as London these
feats could not fail of making some noise. His house was every day
crowded, and great interruption given to his business. Among the rest,
he was visited by an exhibitor of wonders. Pinchbeck advised him to a
public exhibition of his animals at the Haymarket, and even promised, on
receiving a moiety, to be concerned in the exhibition. Bisset agreed,
but the day before the performance, Pinchbeck declined, and the other
was left to act for himself. The well-known _Cats' Opera_ was advertised
in the Haymarket; the horse, the dog, the monkeys, and the cats went
through their several parts with uncommon applause, to crowded houses,
and in a few days Bisset found himself possessed of nearly a thousand
pounds to reward his ingenuity."
CONSTANT, CHATEAUBRIAND, AND THE CAT.
"Benjamin Constant was accustomed to write in a closet on the third
story. Beside him sat his estimable wife, and on his knee his favourite
cat; this feline affection he entertained in common with Count de
Chateaubriand."[127]
LISTON THE SURGEON AND HIS CAT.
Robert Liston, the great surgeon, was, it seems, very fond of a cat. Dr
Forbes Winslow asks, "Who has not seen Liston's favourite cat Tom? This
animal is considered to be a unique specimen of the feline tribe; and so
one would think, to see the passionate fondness which he manifests for
it. This cat is always perched on Liston's shoulder, at breakfast,
dinner, and tea, in his carriage, and out of his carriage. It is quite
ludicrous to witness the devotion which the great operator exhibits
towards his favourite."[128]
Liston was a curious man. He often called on his friends as early as six
o'clock in the morning. In most cases, such calls must have been visits
of formality or quiet jokes at the lazy manners of most men of the
present age. We know one person whom he called on usually at this early
hour. It would be more healthy for the young, if they would imitate this
talented surgeon. We may here say that he used to allow one particular
nail to grow long. It was a nail he used to guide his knife when
operating. When at college in 1833 or 1834, we heard a student, who knew
this clever operator well, happily apply the _double-entendre_, "_homo
ad unguem factus_," a phrase, Dr Carson, our noble rector at the High
School, taught us to translate "_an accomplished man_."
THE BANKER MITCHELL'S ANTIPATHY TO KITTENS.
Mr J. T. Smith, once Keeper of the Prints in the British Museum, author
of the "Life and Times of Nollekens, the Royal Academician,"[129] tells
a story of Mr Matthew Mitchell, a banker, who collected prints.
"Mr Mitchell had a most serious antipathy to a kitten. He could sit in a
room without experiencing the least emotion from a cat; but directly he
perceived a kitten, his flesh shook on his bones, like a snail in
vinegar. I once relieved him from one of these paroxysms by taking a
kitten out of the room; on my return he thanked me, and declared his
feelings to be insupportable upon such an occasion. Long subsequently, I
asked him whether he could in any way account for this agitation. He
said he could not, adding that he experienced no such sensations upon
seeing a full-grown cat; but that a kitten, after he had looked at it
for a minute or two, in his imagination grew to the size of an
overpowering elephant."
JAMES MONTGOMERY AND HIS CATS.[130]
The poet Montgomery was very fond of cats. His biographers say--"We
never recollect the time when some familiar 'Tabby' or audacious 'Tom'
did not claim to share the poet's attention during our familiar
interviews with him in his own parlour. We well recollect one fine
brindled fellow, called 'Nero,' who, during his kittenhood, 'purred' the
following epistle to a little girl who had been his playmate:--
"HARTSHEAD, NEAR THE HOLE-IN-THE-WALL,
"_July 23, 1825_.
"_Harrrrrrr_,
"_Mew, wew, auw, mauw, hee, wee, miaw, waw, wurr, whirr, ghurr, wew,
mew, whew, isssss, tz, tz, tz, purrurrurrur._"
DONE INTO ENGLISH.
"HARRIET,
"This comes to tell you that I am very well, and I hope you are so too.
I am growing a great cat; pray how do you come on? I wish you were here
to carry me about as you used to do, and I would scratch you to some
purpose, for I can do this much better than I could while you were here.
I have not run away yet, but I believe I shall soon, for I find my feet
are too many for my head, and often carry me into mischief. Love to
Sheffelina, though I was always fit to pull her cap when I saw you
petting her. My cross old mother sends her love to you--she shows me
very little now-a-days, I assure you, so I do not care what she does
with the rest. She has brought me a mouse or two, and I caught one
myself last night; but it was in my dream, and I awoke as hungry as a
hunter, and fell to biting at my tail, which I believe I should have
eaten up; but it would not let me catch it. So no more at present from
TINY.
"_P.S._--They call me Tiny yet, you see; but I intend to take the name
of Nero, after the lion fight at Warwick next week, if the lion
conquers, not else.
"_2d P.S._--I forgot to tell you that I can beg, but I like better to
steal,--it's more natural, you know.
"HARRIET, at Ockbrook."
SIR WALTER SCOTT'S VISIT TO THE BLACK DWARF.--DAVID RITCHIE'S CAT.
David Ritchie, the prototype of the "Black Dwarf," inhabited a small
cottage on the farm of Woodhouse, parish of Manor, Peeblesshire. In the
year 1797, Walter Scott, then a young advocate, was taken by the
Fergusons to see "Bowed Davie," as the poor misanthropic man was
generally called.
Mr William Chambers,[131] the historian of his native county, describes
the visit at greater length than Scott has done in the introduction to
his novel. He says--"At the first sight of Scott, the misanthrope seemed
oppressed with a sentiment of extraordinary interest, which was either
owing to the lameness of the stranger--a circumstance throwing a
narrower gulf between this person and himself than what existed between
him and most other men--or to some perception of an extraordinary mental
character in this limping youth, which was then hid from other eyes.
After grinning upon him for a moment with a smile less bitter than his
wont, the dwarf passed to the door, double-locked it, and then coming up
to the stranger, seized him by the wrist with one of his iron hands, and
said, 'Man, hae ye ony poo'er?' By this he meant magical power, to which
he had himself some vague pretensions, or which, at least, he had
studied and reflected upon till it had become with him a kind of
monomania. Scott disavowed the possession of any gifts of that kind,
evidently to the great disappointment of the inquirer, who then turned
round and gave a signal to a huge black cat, hitherto unobserved, which
immediately jumped up to a shelf, where it perched itself, and seemed to
the excited senses of the visitors as if it had really been the familiar
spirit of the mansion. 'He has poo'er,' said the dwarf in a voice which
made the flesh of the hearers thrill, and Scott, in particular, looked
as if he conceived himself to have actually got into the den of one of
those magicians with whom his studies had rendered him familiar. 'Ay,
_he_ has poo'er,' repeated the recluse; and then, going to his usual
seat, he sat for some minutes grinning horribly, as if enjoying the
impression he had made, while not a word escaped from any of the party.
Mr Ferguson at length plucked up his spirits, and called to David to
open the door, as they must now be going. The dwarf slowly obeyed, and
when they had got out, Mr Ferguson observed that his friend was as pale
as ashes, while his person was agitated in every limb. Under such
striking circumstances was this extraordinary being first presented to
the _real_ magician, who was afterwards to give him such a deathless
celebrity."
Mr Chambers doubtless received the particulars of this visit from Sir
Adam Ferguson, Scott's friend and companion.
* * * * *
Robert Southey, like Jeremy Bentham, with whom the Quarterly Reviewer
would have grudged to have been classified, loved cats. His son, in his
"Life and Correspondence," vol. vi. p. 210, says--"My father's fondness
for cats has been occasionally shown by allusion in his letters,[132]
and in 'The Doctor' is inserted an amusing memorial of the various cats
which at different times were inmates of Greta Hall. He rejoiced in
bestowing upon them the strangest appellations, and it was not a little
amusing to see a kitten answer to the name of some Italian singer or
Indian chief, or hero of a German fairy tale, and often names and titles
were heaped one upon another, till the possessor, unconscious of the
honour conveyed, used to 'set up his eyes and look' in wonderment. Mr
Bedford had an equal liking for the feline race, and occasional notices
of their favourites therefore passed between them, of which the
following records the death of one of the greatest:--
"'_To Grosvenor C. Bedford, Esq._
"'KESWICK, _May 18, 1833_.
"'My Dear G---- ... --Alas! Grosvenor, this day poor old Rumpel was found
dead, 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 Rumpelstiltzchen, Marquis M'Bum, Earl Tomlemagne, Baron
Raticide, Waowhler, and Skaratch." There should be a court mourning in
Catland, and if the Dragon[133] wear a black ribbon round his neck, or a
band of crape _a la militaire_ round one of the fore paws, it will be
but a becoming mark of respect.
"'As we have no catacombs here, he is to be decently interred in the
orchard, and cat-mint planted on his grave. Poor creature, it is well
that he has thus come to his end after he had become 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
this event.
R. S.'"
In a letter from Leyden to his son Cuthbert, then in his seventh year,
he says--"I hope Rumpelstiltzchen has recovered his health, and that
Miss Cat is well; and I should like to know whether Miss Fitzrumpel has
been given away, and if there is another kitten. The Dutch cats do not
speak exactly the same language as the English ones. I will tell you how
they talk when I come home."[134]
ARCHBISHOP WHATELY'S ANECDOTE OF THE CAT THAT USED TO RING THE BELL.
Archbishop Whately[135] records a case of an act done by a cat, which,
if done by a man, would be called reason. He says--"This cat lived many
years in my mother's family, and its feats of sagacity were witnessed by
her, my sisters, and myself. It was known, not merely once or twice, but
habitually, to ring the parlour bell whenever it wished the door to be
opened. Some alarm was excited on the first occasion that it turned
bell-ringer. The family had retired to rest, and in the middle of the
night the parlour-bell was rung violently; the sleepers were startled
from their repose, and proceeded down-stairs, with pokers and tongs, to
interrupt, as they thought, the predatory movement of some burglar; but
they were agreeably surprised to discover that the bell had been rung by
pussy; who frequently repeated the act whenever she wanted to get out of
the parlour."
* * * * *
A friend (D. D., Esq., Edinburgh) tells me of a cat his family had in
the country, that used regularly to "_tirl at the pin_" of the back door
when it wished to get in to the house.
FOOTNOTES:
[121] Mark Lemon, "Jest-Book," p. 280.
[122] "British Quadrupeds." The professor has long retired to his
favourite Selborne. He occupies the house of Gilbert White; and a new
illustrated edition of the "Natural History and Antiquities of Selborne"
has been long looked for from him.
[123] "The Instructive Picture Book; or, A Few Attractive Lessons from
the Natural History of Animals," by Adam White, p. 15 (fifth edition,
1862).
[124] "The Works of Jeremy Bentham," now first collected under the
superintendence of his executor, John Bowring, vol. xi. pp. 80, 81.
[125] Jeremy Bentham's house in Queen's Square was that which had been
occupied by the great poet.
[126] Vol. i. No. 3. p. 27.
[127] _Times_, 18 Dec. 1830, quoted by Southey, "Common-Place Book," iv.
p. 489.
[128] "Physic and Physicians," a medical sketch-book, vol. ii. p. 363
(1839).
[129] "A Book for a Rainy Day," p. 103. Old Smith was a regular hunter
after legacies, and like all such was often disappointed. His
"Nollekens" is a fine example.
[130] "Memoirs of James Montgomery," by Holland and Everett, iv. pp.
114, 115.
[131] "A History of Peeblesshire," by William Chambers of Glenormiston,
p. 403 (1864).
[132] See vol. v. p. 145.
[133] A cat of Mr Bedford's.
[134] "Life and Correspondence," v. p. 223.
[135] On Instinct, a Lecture delivered before the Dublin Natural History
Society, 11th November 1842. Dublin, 1847. P. 10.
TIGER AND LION.
These most ferocious of the Carnivora have afforded interesting subjects
to many a traveller. An extensive volume of truly sensational adventure
might be compiled about them, adding a chapter for the jaguar and the
leopard, two extremely dangerous spotted cats, that can do what neither
tigers nor lions are able to do--namely, climb trees. Having once asked
a friend, who was at the death of many a wild beast, which was the most
savage animal he had ever seen, he replied, "A wounded leopard." It was
to such an animal that Jacob referred when he saw Joseph's clothes, and
said--"Some evil beast hath devoured him." Colonel Campbell's work, from
which the first paragraph is derived, contains much about the pursuit of
the tiger. Dr Livingstone's travels and Gordon Cumming's books on South
Africa, neither of which we have quoted, have thrilling pages about the
lordly presence of "the king of beasts." Mr Joseph Wolf and Mr Lewis are
perhaps the best draughtsmen of the lion among recent artists. The
public admire much Sir Edwin Landseer's striking bronze lions on the
pedestal of the Nelson Monument. That artist excels in his pictures of
the lion. On the Assyrian monuments in the British Museum are many
wonderfully executed lion hunts, as perfectly preserved as if they had
been chiselled in our day. Parts of these bas-reliefs were certainly
designed from actual sketches made from the lions and dogs, which took
the chief part in the amusements of some "Nimrod, a mighty hunter before
the Lord." Even our Scottish kings kept a lion or lions as ornaments of
their court. At Stirling Castle and Palace, a room which we saw in 1865,
still bears the name of the "Lion's Den." The British lion is an old
emblem of both Scotland and England, and it is not twenty-five years ago
since we, in common with every visitor to the Tower, were glad to see
"the Royal Lion." Dr Livingstone's experience, we have not the slightest
wish to prove its accuracy, shows that the lion has a soothing, or
rather paralysing power over his prey, when he has knocked it down or
bitten it.
BUSSAPA, THE TIGER-SLAYER, AND THE TIGER.
The following striking anecdote recounts the extraordinary presence of
mind and determined courage of a celebrated Mahratta hunter named
Bussapa. This man acquired the name of the "Tiger-slayer," and wore on
his breast several silver medals granted by the Indian Government for
feats of courage in destroying tigers. Colonel Campbell met him, and in
"My Indian Journal" (pp. 142, 143), published in 1864, has recorded from
his brother's diary the following anecdote:--"Bussapa, a hunter of
'Lingyat' caste, with whom I am well acquainted, was sent for by the
headman of a village, to destroy a tiger which had carried off a number
of cattle. He came, and having ascertained the brute's usual haunts,
fastened a bullock near the edge of a ravine which he frequented, and
quietly seated himself beside it, protected only by a small bush. Soon
after sunset the tiger appeared, killed the bullock, and was glutting
himself with blood, when Bussapa, thrusting his long matchlock through
the bush, fired, and wounded him severely. The tiger half rose, but
being unable to see his assailant on account of the intervening bush,
dropped again on his prey with a sudden growl. Bussapa was kneeling
within three paces of him, completely defenceless; he did not even dare
to reload, for he well knew that the slightest movement on his part
would be the signal for his immediate destruction; his bare knees were
pressed upon gravel, but he dared not venture to shift his uneasy
position. Ever and anon, the tiger, as he lay with his glaring eyes
fixed upon the bush, uttered his hoarse growl of anger; his hot breath
absolutely blew upon the cheek of the wretched man, yet still he moved
not. The pain of his cramped position increased every moment--suspense
became almost intolerable; but the motion of a limb, the rustling of a
leaf, would have been death. Thus they remained, the man and the tiger,
watching each other's motions; but even in this fearful situation, his
presence of mind never for a moment forsook the noble fellow. He heard
the gong of the village strike each hour of that fearful night, that
seemed to him 'eternity,' and yet he lived; the tormenting mosquitoes
swarmed round his face, but he dared not brush them off. That fiend-like
eye met his whenever he ventured a glance towards the horrid spell that
bound him; and a hoarse growl grated on the stillness of the night, as a
passing breeze stirred the leaves that sheltered him. Hours rolled on,
and his powers of endurance were well-nigh exhausted, when, at length,
the welcome streaks of light shot up from the eastern horizon. On the
approach of day, the tiger rose, and stalked away with a sulky pace, to
a thicket at some distance, and then the stiff and wearied Bussapa felt
that he was safe.
"One would have thought that, after such a night of suffering, he would
have been too thankful for his escape, to venture on any further risk.
But the valiant Bussapa was not so easily diverted from his purpose; as
soon as he had stretched his cramped limbs, and restored the checked
circulation, he reloaded his matchlock, and coolly proceeded to finish
his work. With his match lighted, he advanced close to the tiger, lying
ready to receive him, and shot him dead by a ball in the forehead, while
in the act of charging."
Colonel Campbell relates, that most of Bussapa's family have fallen
victims to tigers. But the firm belief of the "tiger-slayer" in
predestination, makes him blind to all danger.
JOHN HUNTER AND THE DEAD TIGER.
The greatest comparative anatomist our country has produced, John
Hunter, obtained the refusal of all animals which happened to die in the
Tower or in the travelling menageries. In this way he often obtained
rare subjects for his researches. Dr Forbes Winslow[136] alludes to a
well-known fact, that all the money Hunter could spare, was devoted to
procuring curiosities of this sort, and Sir Everard Home used to state,
that as soon as he had accumulated fees to the amount of ten guineas, he
always purchased some addition to his collection. Indeed, he was not
unfrequently obliged to borrow of his friends, when his own funds were
at a low ebb, and the temptation was strong. "Pray, George," said he one
day to Mr G. Nicol, the bookseller to the king, with whom he was very
intimate, "have you got any money in your pocket?" Mr N. replied in the
affirmative. "Have you got five guineas? Because, if you have, and will
lend it me, you shall go halves."--"Halves in what?" inquired his
friend.--"Why, halves in a magnificent tiger, which is now dying in
Castle Street." Mr Nicol lent the money, and Hunter purchased the tiger.
TIGERS.