Part 9

XVI.

SUPERIORITY OF THE CAT OVER OTHER QUADRUMINA.

The recent experiments of Prof. Ferrier, according to his own interpretation of the phenomena, tend to show that human and animal language are identical--that the barking of a dog and the mewing of the Cat are equivalents of speech in man, and that the faculty of language in man and other animals has virtually the same seat in the brain. He describes opening the mouth, putting out the tongue and barking, in the dog, mewing, spitting or hissing, in the Cat, as signs corresponding to speech. But it needed not the experiments of the physiologist or the pathologist, or the scalpel of the anatomist, to tell us that the dog's bark, the cat's mew and the horse's neigh, as well as the corresponding vocal expressions in other animals, are the analogies of speech or speaking in man. Language in animals is both natural and acquired. In both cases it may be the result of self tuition or man's instruction and training. In both cases its variety is to be remarked upon, and, just as in man, this variety, which involves expressiveness, or the sign thereof, is frequently, if not always, in proportion to the degree of cultivation or education of the speaker. The interpretation of animal language, in its varied forms, is of the utmost importance in relation to the discrimination of notes. It is known, but with accompanying difficulties which arise mainly from the following causes or source: first, the significance of animal language has been little studied by man; second, the wishes or thoughts are expressed in an infinite variety of ways, not only in different tribes, genera or species, but, in different individuals of the same species and different members of the same family and different offspring of the same parent, in different ages of the same individual, in the same individual at different times and under different circumstances. The mode of expressing the passions is different in different animals. Many of the utterances of animals are such distinct imitations of the human voice and other sounds as to deceive even man himself.

I do not credit the Darwinian theory of evolution with being in the line of common sense. In this doubt of its correctness I think I am joined by the great majority of mankind. In some human beings who think as I do upon this subject, the wish may be father to the thought, for a matter of pride, because no man takes kindly to the assertion that his progenitors were apes and baboons, or something akin to these, and this may be classified as a very commendable pride in the human being. Nor do I believe that the domestic Cat is an evolution from the wild-cat, or the puma, or the jaguar, or anything of their species. The resemblance has deceived more than one of the best writers upon the subject, as it certainly tends to do. Naturalists are at variance now, as they always have been, upon the subject of the true origin of the Cat, for while some declare that the domestic Cat evolves from the wild-cat, others claim, with as much sincerity, that the wild-cat comes from the domestic feline. One author, in proof of such an assertion, remarks that the wild-cat is not indigenous to the soil of America, and must, therefore, have evolved from a domestic animal, our household pet, as there was no other way for the wild animal to get to this country--an argument which would scarcely apply to other animals. I cannot see the force of such an argument, nor do I bring myself to the belief that the beautiful and loving household pet is descended from the ferocious and comparatively enormous wild-cat or anything of its species, any more than I can believe that the dog is an evolution from the lion, the catamount from the tiger, the sprat from the whale, or man from the ape. The natural tendency to domesticity in the Cat is antagonistic to this theory of evolution, as are many other individualities of the feline, and I shall, therefore, claim that our Cat is not even a distant relative of the wild animal, but is so far removed that the comparison is not only odious but incorrect.

Prof. E.P. Thompson, in his valuable treatise, entitled "Passions of Animals," gives to the feline race the following characteristics: "Perception, touch, taste, smell, hearing, sight, recollection, memory, imagination, dreams, playfulness, homesickness, thought, discrimination, attention, experience, sense of injustice, computation of time, calculation of number, sensation, tone and power of sensation, sympathy, joy, pain, anger, astonishment, fear, sympathy of suffering, cruelty, desire, fellowship of joy, compassion, appetite, impulse, instinct, self-preservation, tenacity of life, temptation, hibernation, form and color, distribution, habitation, cleanliness, change of habitation, locality, postures and use of natural weapons, care of young, affection for offspring, imitation, social impulse, communication, language, curiosity, sagacity, temperament, foresight, cunning, artifice, dissimulation, attachment, fidelity, gratitude, generosity, vanity, love of praise, jealousy, predominancy, hatred, revenge, love, and training."

Concerning the almost universal belief that the dog is a more intelligent animal than the Cat, while the classification of animals, in the order of intellect, by many authors, gives the first place to the dog, the second to the Cat and the third to the horse, I cannot agree with them, because the facts are all against such an order of classification. I protest against the preferment of the dog to the feline for many reasons, not the least of which is the established and apparent fact that the construction of the Cat is finer than that of the dog. It goes without saying that the dog has been given far more and better opportunities for learning and refinement than the Cat. The dog is the constant companion of man. He goes with him everywhere, to his place of business, to his farm, to his work of every nature, upon his walks abroad, to the enjoyment of his sports, to the tavern, even to the church, and, when the day's work and pleasures are over, to his home, and frequently to his bed-chamber. The dog is with the man, his constant companion, from the cradle to the grave, and from his constant companionship come the knowledge and intelligence of the canine, developed by constant observation of man's habits, mode of expression, likes, dislikes, associations and moods. It must be admitted by the most obtuse that the Cat has never been given such privilege; consequently, to compare the Cat with the dog, in the matter of intelligence, is an apparent injustice. Give to the feline the same advantages which are bestowed upon the canine, and the superiority of the Cat will be immediately appreciable. Prof. George J. Romanes, in his valuable work, "Animal Intelligence," recently published, says in relation to the injustice done the feline animal by naturalists in general:

"The Cat is, unquestionably, a highly intelligent animal, though, when compared with its great domestic rival, the dog, its intelligence, from being cast in quite a different mold, is very frequently underrated. Comparatively unsocial in temperament, wanderingly predaceous in habits and lacking in the affectionate docility of the canine nature, this animal has never, in any considerable degree, been subject to those psychologically transforming influences whereby a prolonged and intimate association with man has, as we shall subsequently see, so profoundly modified the psychology of the dog. Nevertheless, the Cat is not only by nature, an animal remarkable for intelligence, but, in spite of its naturally imposed disadvantages of temperament, has not altogether escaped those privileges of nurture which unnumbered centuries of domestication could scarcely fail to supply. Thus, as contrasted with most of the wild species of the genus when tamed from their youngest days, the domestic cat is conspicuously less uncertain in its temper toward its masters, the uncertainty of temper displayed by nearly all the wild members of the feline tribe, when tame, being, of course, an expression of the interference of individual with hereditary experience."

The delicacy and carefulness of the Cat were never more characteristically illustrated or more gracefully described than by Prof. Philip G. Hamerton, in his interesting and graphically written "Chapter on Animals," in which he takes occasion to say:

"One evening, before dinner time, the present writer had occasion to go into a dining room where the cloth was already laid, the glasses already upon the sideboard and table, and the lamp and candles lighted. A Cat, which was a favorite in the house, finding the door ajar, entered softly after me, and began to make a little exploration after his manner. I have a fancy for watching animals when they think they are not observed, so I affected to be entirely absorbed in the occupation which detained me there, and took note of the Cat's proceedings without in any way interrupting them. The first thing he did was to jump upon a chair and thence up on the sideboard. There was a good deal of glass and plate upon that piece of furniture, but nothing as yet which, in the Cat's opinion, was worth purloining, so he brought all his paws together on the very edge of the board, the two forepaws in the middle, the others on both sides, and sat, balancing himself for a minute or two whilst he contemplated the long, glittering vista of the table. As yet there was not an item of anything eatable upon it, but the cat probably thought he might as well ascertain whether this were so or not by a closer inspection, for, with a single spring, he cleared the abyss, and alighted noiselessly on the tablecloth. He walked all over it, and left no trace. He passed among the slender glasses, fragile stems, like air-bubbles cut in half and balanced on spears of ice, yet he disturbed nothing, broke nothing anywhere. When his inspection was over he stepped out of sight, having been perfectly inaudible from the beginning, so that a blind person could only have suspected his visit by that mysterious sense which makes the blind aware of the presence of another creature.

"This little scene reveals one remarkable characteristic of the feline nature, the innate and exquisite refinement of its behavior. It would be infinitely difficult, probably even impossible, to communicate a delicacy of this kind to any animal by teaching. Why should she tread so carefully? It is not from fear of offending her master and incurring punishment, because to do so is in conformity with her own idea of behavior, exactly as a lady would feel vexed with herself if she broke anything in her own drawing-room, though no one would blame her maladresse, and she would never feel the loss. A dog on velvet is evidently out of place; he would be as happy in clean straw; but a Cat on velvet does not awaken any sense of the incongruous. If animals could speak, the dog would be a bluff, outspoken, honest fellow, but the Cat would have the rare talent of never saying a word too much."

XVII.

INTELLECTUAL POWER OF THE CAT.

The immortal Shelley possessed an intense sense of the supernatural, and, while being a lover of the feline, appeared to be convinced of the fact that Cats have an articulate language formed of easily distinguishable words, purely Anglo-Saxon. The following story, demonstrative of these facts, may be discounted by some of the more incredulous, but it must be remembered that Shelley was renowned for his veracity, and is, therefore, entitled to credence. He relates the following narrative as he heard it from Mr. G. Lewis:

"A gentleman on a visit to a friend," says he, "who lives on the skirts of an extensive forest, on the east of Germany, lost his way. He wandered for some hours among the trees, when he saw a light at a distance. On approaching it he was surprised to observe that it proceeded from the interior of a ruined monastery. Before he knocked, he thought it prudent to look through the window. He saw a multitude of Cats assembled around a small grave, four of whom were letting down a coffin with a crown upon it. The gentleman, startled at this unusual sight, and imagining that he had arrived among the retreat of fiends or witches, mounted his horse and rode away with the utmost precipitation. He arrived at a late hour at his friend's house, who had sat up for him. On his arrival his friend questioned him as to the cause of the traces of trouble visible in his face. He began to recount his adventure after much difficulty, knowing that it was scarcely possible that his friend should give faith to his relation. No sooner had he mentioned the coffin, with the crown upon it, than his friend's Cat, who seemed to have been lying asleep before the fire, leaped up, saying, 'Then, I am the King of the Cats!' and, scrambling up the chimney, was seen no more."

Prof. Hamerton, in quoting the above, comments upon the story as follows:

"Now, is not that a remarkable story, proving at the same time, the attention Cats pay to human conversation even when they outwardly seem perfectly indifferent to it, and the monarchical character of their political organization, which, without this incident, might have remained forever unknown to us? This happened, we are told, in Eastern Germany, but in our own island, England, less than a hundred years ago, there remained many a Cat, it is said, fit to be the ministrant of a sorceress."

Concerning the origin of the domestic Cat, Rev. J.G. Wood in his "Illustrated Natural History," says: "The Egyptian Cat is the origin of the domestic Cat. It is conjectured that the domestic Cat was imported from Egypt into Greece and Rome, and from thence to England."

"The Cat," continues Dr. Wood, "is a sadly calumniated creature. The Cats with which I have been most familiar have been as docile, tractable and good-tempered as any dog could be, and displayed an amount of intellectual power which would be equaled by very few dogs and surpassed by none. The most conspicuous varieties of the domestic Cat are the Manx and Angora. Angora Cats have long, silky hair and bushy tails, while the Manx Cat's body is covered with close fur, and is tailless."

Dr. Wood, in his most interesting work, relates several stories confirmatory of the fact that the Cat is wonderfully endowed with intellectuality, and I select the following as being the most pleasing:

"Three years ago I had a lovely kitten presented to me. Her fur was of beautiful blue-gray, marked with glossy, black stripes, according to the most improved zebra or tiger fashion. She was so very pretty that she was named 'Pret,' and was, without exception, the wisest, most loving and dainty pussy that ever crossed my path. When Pret was very young, I fell ill with a nervous fever. She missed me immediately in my accustomed place, sought for me, and placed herself at my door until she found a chance for getting into the room, which she soon accomplished, and began at once to try her little best to amuse me with her little frisky, kitten tricks and pussy-cat attentions. But soon finding that I was too ill to play with her, she placed herself beside me, and at once established herself as head nurse. In this capacity few human beings could have exceeded her in watchfulness, or manifested more affectionate regard. It was truly wonderful to note how soon she learned to know the different hours at which I ought to take medicine or nourishment, and, during the night, if my attendant was asleep, she would call her, and if she could not awake her without such extreme measures, she would gently nibble the nose of the sleeper, which never failed to produce the desired effect.

"Having thus achieved her purpose, Miss Pret would watch attentively the preparation of whatever was needed, and then come and, with a gentle purr announce its advent to me. The most marvelous part of the matter was her never being five minutes wrong in her calculation of the true time, even amid the stillness and darkness of the night. But who shall say by what means this little being was enabled to measure the fleeting moments, and by the aid of what power did she connect the lapse of time with the needful attentions of a nurse and her charge? Surely we have here something more than reason."

The reverend gentleman goes on to say: "The never-failing accuracy of this wise little cat was the more surprising since she was equally infallible by day or night. There was no striking clock in the house, so that she could not have been assisted by its aid, nor was it habit, for her assiduous attentions only began with the illness and ceased with the recovery of the invalid. Instinct, popularly so called, will not account for this wonderful capability so suddenly coming into being, and so suddenly ceasing. Surely some spirit-guiding power must have animated this simple little creature, and have directed her in her labor of love.

"Another time, while Pret was yet in her kittenhood, another kitten lived in the same house, and very much annoyed Pret by coming into the room and eating the meat which had been laid out for herself. However, Pret soon got over that difficulty by going to the plate and, as soon as it was placed in the accustomed spot, picking out all the large pieces of meat and hiding them under a table. She then sat quietly down, and placed herself sentry over the hidden treasure, while the intruding Cat entered the room, walked up to the plate and finished the little scraps of meat that Pret had thought fit to leave her. After the obnoxious individual had left the room, Pret brought her concealed treasures from their hiding place and quietly consumed them.

"When any one was writing Pret was rather apt to disconcert the writer. She always must needs try her skill at anything that her mistress did, and no sooner was the pen in motion than Pret would jump on the table, and, seizing the end of the pen in her mouth, try to direct its movements in her own way. That plan not answering her expectations, she would pat the fresh writing paper with her paw, and make sad havoc with the correspondence.

"Clever as Pret was, she sometimes displayed an unexpected simplicity of character. After the fashion of the cat tribe, she delighted in covering up the remnants of her food with any substance that seemed most convenient. She was accustomed, after taking her meals, to fetch a piece of paper and lay it over the saucer, or to put her paw into her mistress' pocket and extract her handkerchief for the same purpose. These little performances showed some depth of reasoning in the creature, but she would sometimes act in a manner totally opposed to rational action. Paper and handkerchiefs failing, she has been often seen, after partly finishing her meal, to fetch one of her kittens and lay it over the plate, for the purpose of covering up the remaining food. When kitten, paper and handkerchief were all wanting, she did her best to scratch up the carpet, and to lay the torn fragments upon the plate. She had been known, in her anxiety, to find covering for the superabundant food, to drag a tablecloth from its proper locality, and to cause a sad demolition of the superincumbent fragile ware.

"At last Pret died, and one of her offspring became a mother, and I conveyed herself and kitten to her former home. Although she had not seen the house since her early kittenhood, she recognized the locality at once, and, pulling her kitten out of its basket, established it in her accustomed bed on the sofa.

"One of her offspring is now domiciled in my own house, and there was rather a quaint incident in connection with its departure.

"Minnie knew perfectly well that her kitten was going away from her, and, after it had been placed in a little basket, she licked it affectionately, and seemed to take a formal farewell of her child. When next I visited the house Minnie would have nothing to do with me, and when her mistress greeted me, she hid her face in her mistress' arms. So I remonstrated with her, telling her that her little one would be better off with me than if it had gone to a stranger, but all to no purpose. At last I said, 'Minnie, I apologize, and will not so offend again.'