OF CATS
"If you want to know what a tiger is like, look at a cat; if you want to
know what a thug is like, look at a butcher," is a common Hindu saying, but
only half of it is quite true. The thug is, or let us hope, was, capable of
many disguises, and his favourite semblance was that of the Brahman and the
religious mendicant. Victor Hugo has expressed the tigerishness of the cat
in his own swaggering fashion: "_Dieu a fait le chat pour donner à l'homme
le plaisir de caresser le tigre_." There are not many Indian sayings about
cats in men's talk, but probably sensitive women have more than we know of.
Cats are not so much petted here as in England, and have a stronger
tendency to run wild. Generations of devoted cat-lovers in Europe have not
been able to quite overcome this tendency, and many a gamekeeper can tell
you of cats which during the day are models of saintly propriety, and at
night are "just prowling tigers." No creature is more independent than the
cat. Its more complete domestication in the West is in reality merely due
to its love of warmth. For the sake of comfort it will tolerate humanity
and blink amiably at the fireside, but a serene selfishness is the basis of
cat character. The Indian domestic cat is not bound to the family circle
by the need of warmth; there is no fireside to speak of, and it lives its
own life.
Nor are household breakages attributed so freely to the cat, because there
are so few things to break in an Indian household, and the customs of the
country do not include pantries and the storing of flesh food. It is
sometimes, however, slung in a net, so they say of a windfall, "Cat's in
luck, the net broke!" Care does not kill the Eastern cat, nor has she nine
lives nor nine tails, but she is used in a frequently-quoted saying about
doubtful matters. "If the Punchayet (village council) says it's a cat, why,
cat it is." This saying _may_ be built on a story, but it is certain that a
little story is built on the saying. A grocer one night heard sounds in his
shop, and, venturing into the dark, he laid hold of a thief. The marauder
mewed like a cat, hoping the grocer would let go. But the grocer only
gripped tighter, saying, "All right, my friend; if the Punchayet in the
morning says you're a cat, you shall be a cat and go; but meanwhile I'll
lock you up."
A proverb about setting a cat to watch uncovered milk pans shows the Indian
cat to be as fond of milk as the English. "I wasn't so angry at the cat
stealing the butter, as at her wagging her tail," is a saying of obvious
application. Of the great Sepoy mutiny they say, "The cat (the English)
taught the tiger (the Sepoy), till he came to eat her." Of a hypocrite:
"The cat, with mouse tails still hanging out of her mouth, says--Now I feel
good, I will go on a pilgrimage to Mecca." The Indian cat _miyaus_, which
is better by a syllable than the English _mew_; so they say to child or
servant: "What! my own cat, and _miyau_ at me!" "The cat does not catch
mice for God" has obvious applications.
An odd bit of observation, acknowledging in a mistaken fashion the
exquisite nervous sensibility of the cat, is shown in, "When the cat is
ashamed, it scratches the wall." The idea is that when a cat is noticed it
becomes afflicted with self-consciousness, and "to make itself a
countenance," as the French say, it scratches the wall. But cats scratch
the wall to keep their claws in order, just as tigers and leopards do. I
venture to see in the saying an evidence of the Oriental dislike of the
mood of embarrassment or shyness. A well-brought-up Oriental is remarkable,
as a rule, for his want of _mauvaise honte_. Quite small boys are calm and
self-possessed, with full control over eyes, fingers, and limbs, in
situations where English children would be writhing in nervous
embarrassment. In Capt. R. C. Temple's edition of Fallon's _Hindustani
Proverbs_ it is an angry cat that scratches the wall in impotent rage. I
have heard it "ashamed" as above. The scratching, moreover, is a tranquil
performance, usually ensuing after a yawn and stretch, and in nowise
suggests rage. Probably both versions are current. "Even a cat is a lion in
her own lair," is a saying used when mild people flare up in self-defence.
The cat seems to have no particular walk in Hindu mythology, nor are there
many folk tales like our Whittington, and Puss in Boots. The jungle
wild-cat is a poor relation of the domestic pussy, and poor relations are
apt to compromise the most respectable people and prevent them taking their
proper place in society. The Persian cat is prized as a family pet, and
numbers are brought down from Kābul by the Povindahs, a tribe of Afghan
dealers who bring camel caravans with various kinds of produce into the
Punjab every winter.
Cats are frequently kept in the courts and purlieus of Muhammadan mosques
which serve as rest-houses for religious persons. If you make friends with
a mosque cat and talk with the Mutwalli or sacristan, its owner, you will
probably hear of Abû Harera (father of cats), one of the friends of
Muhammad, who had as great a fondness for cats as Théophile Gautier, and
with whom the Prophet conversed on the subject, saying,--"I love all who
are good to cats for your sake." Though this is a merely popular legend,
sanctioned by no authoritative tradition or _hadîs_, it seems to have
secured good treatment for the cat at the hands of most Indian Muhammadans.
From Cairo, when the annual procession of the Kiswa goes to Mecca, cats are
always sent on the camels; formerly they were accompanied by an old woman
known as the Mother of the Cats, and it has been suggested that this may be
a survival of the ancient Egyptian reverence for cats which has so often
made readers of Herodotus smile. But the legend of Abû Harera shows that we
need not look so far back for an explanation of the honour in which Puss is
held. The sympathy of the Prophet with his friend's predilection seems to
be confirmed by the pretty story of his cutting off the skirt of his coat
rather than disturb the sleeping cat, his pet.
I told that story once to a Kashmiri Muhammadan, when urging on him the
advantages of treating animals kindly, and was answered as prosy preachers
deserve to be. "Yes," said my friend, the leader of a gang of _kahars_ or
porters, "the sahib spoke the words of truth, it is wrong to ill-use
creatures whom God has made. Once before it was my fortune to listen to
similar talk from a sahib who also knew of the Prophet. That sahib was a
model of virtue, he also would not allow mules or ponies to be beaten, and
his regard for men was such, that he insisted on paying them double the
usual daily rate, while to me,--such was the virtue of that sahib,--he gave
a handsome present." This little speech was beautifully delivered, but it
ought to be Englished in the Irish tongue to give it due effect.
A sneering saying is, "In a learned house even the cat is learned." A sly
man is said to look like a drowned cat; a live cat is said to be better
than a dead tiger, as a living dog is better than a dead lion; a stealthy
tread is, of course, catlike; and it is easy to imagine occasions when one
might say of a human creature, "The cowed cat allows even a mouse to bite
its ears." In nature a cowed cat is as rare as a silent woman, but a
proverb has not necessarily much concern with nature. We say, "Even a worm
will turn." In India the cat is considered so gentle, they say, "Even a
cat, hard pressed, will make a fight for it." To an idle girl a mother will
say, "Did the cat sneeze, or what?" (that you drop your work). To her
child, too, the mother will point the cat cleaning her face and fur as an
example of cleanliness, saying the cat is a Brahmani, nice and clean.
In Kashmir they say, "If cats had wings, there would be no ducks on the
lake." Cats are credited with an occult sympathy with the moon, on account
of their contracting eyes and nocturnal habits. You may hear cats spoken of
with mistrust for this peculiarity, for natives dislike being abroad at
night. They take lanterns, go in companies, and sing to keep their courage
up; but they hate and fear the dark, thickly peopled with ghosts, demons,
and imaginary evil folk of flesh and blood. So we need not see in the
ascription of the cat to the moon an echo of its ancient Egyptian
dedication. A cat's moon is a Kashmiri expression for a sleepless night.
Old-fashioned English rustics talk of a man "as lazy as Ludlam's dog that
leaned his head against the wall to bark." In Kashmir, says the Rev. J. H.
Knowles, they speak of Khokhai Mir's idle cat that scratched the ground on
seeing a mouse, as who should say, "You may catch it, master, if you like."
The sensitiveness of the cat's eye is noticed, but they do not pretend,
like the Chinese, to tell the time by looking at its pupil.
Among a vast number of omens the cat takes a place. A cat crossing the path
of a native going out on business would turn him back at once, for it is
most unlucky. Orientals are terribly superstitious. Yes, but here is a
verse by an English poet,[4] writing from first-hand knowledge of
hard-headed Whitby fisher folk,--
"I'm no way superstitious as the parson called our Mat,
When he'd none sail with the herring fleet, 'cause he met old Susie's
cat.
There's none can say I heeded, though a hare has crossed my road,
Nor burnt the nets as venomed, where a woman's foot had trode."
[Footnote 4: _On the Seaboard and other Poems_, by Susan K. Phillips.]