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.'
"At this remark Minnie lifted up her head, looked me straight in the face, and voluntarily came on my knee. Anything more humanly appreciative could not be imagined.
"For many days after the abstraction of her offspring, Minnie would not approach the various spots sanctified by the presence of her lost child, and would not even repose on a certain shawl, knitted from scarlet wool, which was her favorite resting-place. She is a compassionate pussy, like her late mother, and mightily distressed at any illness that falls on any of the household. When her mistress has been suffering from a severe cough, I have seen Minnie jump up on the sofa and put her paw sympathetically on the lips of the sufferer. Sneezing seems to excite her compassion even more than coughing, and causes her to display even a greater amount of sympathy."
One strong characteristic attributed to the Cat by its enemies and traducers is quarrelsomeness. I will not take the trouble to deny the assertion, but leave the reader to deny it out of his own experience, and will give two versions of the old story of the Kilkenny Cats, so frequently quoted in demonstration of the fighting qualities of Pussy, who is, evidently, only too eager to live in peace with all the world, in conformity with her great desire for comfort.
The story generally told is that two felines fought in a saw-pit with such ferocious determination that, when the battle was over, nothing could be found remaining of either combatant except the tail, the marvelous inference to be drawn therefrom being, of course, that they had devoured each other.
The ludicrous anecdote has, no doubt, been generally looked upon as an absurdity of the Joe Miller class—but this, according to a writer in the English "Notes and Queries," is all a mistake. He continues, concerning the historical matter of the Kilkenny Cats, "I have not the least doubt that the story of the mutual destruction of the contending cats was an allegory designed to typify the utter ruin to which centuries of litigation and embroilment on the subject of conflicting rights and privileges tended to reduce the respective exchequers of the rival municipal bodies of Kilkenny and Irishtown—separate corporations, existing within the limits of one city, and the boundaries of whose respective jurisdictions had never been marked out or defined by any authority to which either was willing to bow. Their struggle for precedence and for the maintenance of alleged rights invaded commenced A.D. 1377, and were carried on with truly feline fierceness and implacability until the end of the seventeenth century, when it may be fairly considered that they had mutually devoured each other, to the very tail, as we find their property all mortgaged, and see them each passing by-laws that their respective officers should be content with the dignity of their stations and forego all salary until the suit at law with the other pretended corporation should be terminated, and the incumbrances thereby caused removed with the vanquishment of the enemy."
Those who have taken the story of the Kilkenny Cats in its literal sense have done grievous injustice to the character of the grimalkins of the "fair critic," who are really quite as demure and quietly disposed a race of tabbies as it is in the nature of any animal to be. The other story, which, to my mind seems mere probable than the one just recited, is given by my friend, Mr. S. Clark Gould, in his "Notes and Queries," as follows:
"During the rebellion which occurred in Ireland, in 1798, or, it may be, in 1803, Kilkenny was garrisoned by a troop of Hessian soldiers, who amused themselves in barracks by tying two cats together by their tails and throwing them across a clothes-line to fight. One of the officers, hearing of this cruel practice, resolved to stop it. As he entered the room, one of the troopers seized a sword, cut the tails in two as the animals hung across the line, and thus suffered the two cats to escape, minus their tails, through the open window, and when the officer inquired the meaning of the two bleeding tails being left in the room, he was coolly told that two cats had been fighting, and had devoured each other, all but the tails."
Before Noah Webster asserted that "the lower animals" only possessed instinct, which he defined as a power "or disposition of mind, by which, independent of all instruction or experience, without deliberation, and without having any end in view, animals are unerringly directed to do spontaneously whatever is necessary for the preservation of the individual or the continuation of the kind," he should have read the following authenticated stories, illustrative of the forethought of the Cat. The first of these I take from an English magazine, called "Nature," and it is communicated by Dr. J.R. Frost.
"Our servants have been accustomed, during the late frost, to throw crumbs from the breakfast table to the birds, and I have, several times, noticed that our cat used to wait there in ambush, in the expectation of a hearty meal from one or two of the assembled birds. Now, so far, this circumstance is not an example of abstract reasoning, but to continue. For the last few days this practice of feeding the birds has been left off. The cat, however, with an almost incredible amount of forethought, was observed by myself, together with two other members of my household, to scatter crumbs on the grass with the obvious intention of enticing the birds."
Another correspondent writes to the same magazine as follows:
"A case somewhat similar to that mentioned by Dr. Frost, of a Cat scattering crumbs, occurred within my own knowledge in a neighbor's yard. During the recent severe winter a friend was in the habit of throwing crumbs outside his bedroom window. The family have a fine, black Cat, which, seeing that the crumbs brought birds, would occasionally hide himself behind some shrubs, and when the birds came to their breakfast would pounce upon them with varying success. The crumbs had been thrown out as usual one afternoon, but left untouched, and during the night a slight fall of snow occurred. On looking out next morning, my friend observed puss busily engaged in scratching away the snow. Curious to learn what she sought, he waited, and saw her take the crumbs up from the cleared space and lay them, one by one, on the snow. After doing this she retired behind the shrubs to await further developments. This was repeated on two occasions."
In further proof of the fact that Pussy possesses a wonderful power of forethought, Prof. Romanes tells this story as coming from a correspondent:
"While a paraffine lamp was being filled, some of the oil fell upon the back of our Cat, and was afterward ignited by a cinder falling upon it from the fire. The Cat, with her back in a blaze, in an instant made for the door, which happened to be open, and sped up the street about a hundred yards, where she plunged into the village watering-trough, and extinguished the blaze. The trough had eight or nine inches of water, and Puss was in the habit of seeing the fire put out with water every night. The latter point is important, as it shows the data of observation on which the animal reasoned."
Another correspondent, after describing a Cat and parrot in their amiable relationship, proceeds to the following narration:
"One evening there was no one in the kitchen. Cook had gone upstairs and left a bowl of dough to raise by the fire. Shortly after the Cat rushed up after her, mewing and making what signs she could for her to go downstairs, when she jumped up and seized her apron and tried to drag her down. As she was in such a state of excitement, cook went and found Polly shrieking, calling out, flapping her wings and struggling violently, up to her knees in dough and stuck quite fast.
"No doubt if she had not been rescued she would have sunk in the morass and been smothered."
Mr. Belshaw, writing to "Nature," says: "I was sitting in one of the rooms of a friend's house the first evening there, and on hearing a loud knock at the front door, was told not to heed it, as it was only the kitten asking for admission. Not believing it, I watched for myself, and very soon saw the kitten jump onto the door, hang on by one leg, and with the other forepaw right through the knocker, rap twice."
As being of general interest, I take the following explanation of the common theory that the Cat has nine lives, from "Zoological Recreations," by William J. Broderip, F.R.S.:
"The expostulating tabby in 'Gay's Fables' says to the old beldame:
"'Tis infamy to serve a hag,
Cats are thought imps, her broom a nag;
And boys against our lives combine,
Because, 'tis said, your cats have nine.
"The Cat probably owes this reputation to a nine-fold vitality, not only to its extraordinary endurance of violence and its recovery from injury, which frequently leaves it for dead, but also to the belief that a witch was empowered to take on her a Cat's body nine times."
In demonstrating the finer sensibilities of the feline race, Prof. Wood says:
"Some Cats appear to have a strong sense of honor, and will resist almost every temptation when they are placed in a position of trust. Still, some temptations appear so powerful that the honorable feelings cannot resist them. For example, one Cat would resist every lure, except a piece of fried sole, another could never withstand the allurements of a little jug of milk or bottled stout. She would have boldly averted her head from the same liquids if they were placed in a basin or saucer, but the little jug, in which she could just dip her paw, and lick it possessed irresistible fascination for her. And as other examples, I have known several cats who possessed a strong taste for fermented liquors, and I have seen one of these creatures eat a piece of bread, soaked in pure brandy, and beg earnestly for a further supply."
Possibly there is no better way for an author to illustrate his subject or punctuate an argument than by quoting the most interesting and conclusive stories which are directly to the point. I have done so and will continue to do so in this chapter, hoping that the stories narrated will not only be of interest, but impressive and conclusive.
From "Petland," by Rev. J.C. Wood, I take the following story, which is illustrative of the generosity and self-sacrifice of the feline animal. It is a relation about "Pret," the grandson of the original of that name, of whom the reverend gentleman had something to say in a previous chapter:
"He was fond of entertaining his friends in the yard, and was in the habit of bringing dinner to the club for the benefit of his acquaintances, and then wanting a second dinner on his own account, in the evening. He even went so far as to be disgusted with the meals furnished to a neighboring cat, thinking that cat's-meat was not fit for feline consumption. Acting upon this supposition, he was seen to take away the cat's-meat as soon as it was brought by the itinerant purveyor, to carry it into the cellar, bury it under a heap of coals, and to take his own dinner upstairs for his friends."
The imitative power of Pussy has never been illustrated with more force than in the story which I take from the work by Prof. George J. Romanes, and which occurred, as he states, under his personal observation.
"For myself, I may say that my own coachman once had a Cat which, certainly without tuition, learned to open a door that led into the stables from a yard, into which looked some of the windows of my house. Standing at these windows when the Cat did not see me, I have many times witnessed her modus operandi. Walking up to the door, with a most matter-of-course kind of air, she used to spring at the half-hoop handle, just below the thumb-latch. Holding on to the bottom of this half-hoop with one forepaw, she then raised the other to the thumb-piece, and while depressing the latter, finally, with her hind legs, scratched and pushed the doorpost so as to open the door. Precisely similar cases have been described by my correspondents as having been witnessed by them."
It may be interesting to the reader to know that Prof. Darwin, in his great treatise upon animals, declares that Cats with blue eyes are invariably deaf. My experience has not proven this assertion, and, if it is as true as other assertions, in "The Origin of Species," for instance, the evolution of man from the ape, I think the reader has just cause for doubt.
Sir Richard Phillips says in "Million of Facts," American edition, page 48: "The Angora Cat has one eye blue and the other yellow." Also, on page 49: "Perfectly white Cats are deaf."
Regarding this last assertion, I will say I once owned a "perfectly white Cat," which was a Tom, weighing twenty-five pounds, who was not deaf, and I cannot comprehend any just reason why a white Cat should be deaf, or what the color of the fur has to do with the ear or her hearing.
The statement has been made in the works of several writers upon animals and their habits that dogs and Cats would never fraternize. I have not a doubt that the experience of most of my readers will serve to demonstrate the contrary, as my own experience undoubtedly does.
Illustrative of the superior intelligence of the Cat, Prof. Romanes gives the following stories:
"Mrs. Hubbard tells me of a Cat she possessed that was in the habit of poaching young rabbits, to 'eat privately in the seclusion of a disused pig-sty.' One day this Cat caught a small black rabbit, and, instead of eating it, as she always did the brown ones, brought it into the house, unhurt, and laid it at the feet of her mistress. 'She clearly recognized the black rabbit as an unusual specimen and apparently thought it right to show it to her mistress.' Such was not the only instance this Cat showed of zoological discrimination, for on another occasion, having caught another unusual animal, viz., a stoat, she also brought this, alive, into the house, for the purpose of exhibiting it."
Mr. T.B. Groves tells, in "Nature," of a Cat which, on first seeing his own reflection in the mirror, tried to fight it. Meeting with resistance from the glass, the Cat next ran behind the mirror. Not finding the object of his search, he again came to the front, and while keeping his eyes deliberately fixed upon the image, felt round the edge of the glass with one paw, whilst with his head twisted around to the front he assured himself of the persistence of the reflection. He never afterwards condescended to notice the mirror.
A wonderful faculty of the Cat is her quick perception of the uses of mechanical appliances. In corroboration of this assertion, I introduce the following stories:
Couch, in his "Illustrations of Instinct," page 196, gives a case within his own knowledge, of a Cat which, in order to get some milk which was kept in a locked cupboard, used to unlock the door by seating herself on an adjoining table and "repeatedly patting on the bow of the key with her paw, when, with a slight push on the door, she was able to open it. The lock was old and the key turned in it on a very slight impulse."
As a still further instance of the Cat's high appreciation of mechanical appliances, I give an extract from a paper by Mr. Otto, which will have been read at the Linnean Society, before this paper is published.
"At Peara, the residence of Parker Bowan, Esq., a full-grown Cat was one day accidentally locked up in a room, without any other outlet than a small window moved on hinges, and kept shut up by means of a swivel. Not long afterwards the window was found open and the Cat gone. This having happened several times, it was, at last, found that the Cat jumped upon the window sill, placed her forepaws as high as she could reach against the side, deliberately reached with one over to the swivel, moved it from its horizontal to a perpendicular position, and then, leaning with her whole weight against the window, escaped."
Illustrative of the camaraderie of the Cat with human beings, and of the fact that she can, and frequently does, overcome her natural antipathy to water, Prof. Romanes tells the following interesting tale:
"A fisherman, of Portsmouth, England, called 'Robinson Crusoe,' made famous by Mr. Buckland, had a cat called 'Puddles,' which overcame the horror of water, characteristic of his race, and employed his piscatorial talent in the service of his master, who said of him: 'He was the wonderfulest water Cat as ever came out of Portsmouth Harbor, was Puddles, and he used to go out a-fishin' with me every night. On cold nights he would sit on my lap while I was a-fishin', and poke his head out every now and then, or else I would wrap him up in a sail, and make him lay quiet. He'd lay down on me while I was asleep, and if anybody come, he'd swear a good un, and have the face off on 'em if they went to touch me, and he'd never touch a fish, not even a little teeny pout, if you didn't give it to 'im. I was obliged to take him out a-fishin' or else he'd stand an' yowl and marr till I went back and ketched him by the poll and shied him into the boat, and then he was quite happy. When it was fine he used to stick up at the bow of the boat and sit a-watchin' the dogs," meaning dog-fish. "The dogs used to come along by the thousands at a time, and when they was thick all about, he would dive in and fetch 'em out, jammed in his mouth as fast as may be, just as if they was a parcel of rats, and he didn't tremble with the cold half as much as a Newfoundland dog who was used to it. He looked terrible wild about the head when he came out of the water with a dog-fish. I larnt him the water myself. One day, when he was a kitten, I took him down to the sea to wash and brush the fleas out of him, and in a week he could swim after a feather or a cork."
In the foregoing chapters, I have quoted largely from the best anatomists, physiologists, naturalists, pathologists, philologists and linguists, in support of my theses, the most important of which are:
First—That the Cat is of a more delicate organism than the dog and, therefore, more susceptible of refinement and everything that goes toward making it a superior animal.
Second—That it possesses a higher order of intelligence than any other of the quadrumina, and, consequently, more brain-power equal to that of man, in the ratio of its size.
Third—That with the same advantages or association with man and equal advantages of time and opportunity, the Cat will prove herself possessed of all the attributes which have been so much admired in the dog, besides the many admirable personalities accorded to her, and disprove the faults which have been ascribed to the feline by a prejudiced people.
If the reader will admit my arguments to be good enough to prove my theses, it will go a long way toward the admission of my theories concerning the language of the Cat, which my investigations have proven to me to be not only a possibility, but a fact beyond dispute. I have been thus particular in the foregoing chapters, in order to lay a foundation for what follows concerning the interpretation of a sign and word language, given to the Cat as language was given to man by his Maker. The possibility of the cultivation of such a language is an important point in my argument, and I give, in support thereof, no less, as there cannot be any greater, authority in the English language than Prof. A.H. Sayce, the eminent philologist, who, in his "Introduction to the Science of Language," remarks: "We must be careful to remember that language includes every kind of instrumentality whereby we communicate our thoughts and feelings to others, and that the deaf mute who can communicate only with the fingers and lips is as truly gifted with the power of speech as the man who can articulate his words. The latter has a more perfect instrument at his command, but that is all. Indeed, it is quite possible to conceive of a community in which all communications were carried on by means of the hands alone. To this day the savage tribes make large use of gestures, and we are told that the Grevos, of Africa, admirably imitate the persons and tenses of the verbs by this means only."
In the word part of the language of the Cat there are, probably, not more than six hundred fundamental words, all others being derivatives. Consonants are daintily used, while a wide berth is given to explosives and the liquid letters "l" and "r" enter into the great majority of sounds. The sounds of the labials are not frequently heard, but the vowels, a, e, i, o and u, go far toward making up the entire complement of words in the language of the Cat.
I say that there are not, probably, more than six hundred primitive words, because I have not, after years of search, discovered more than that number, and am of the opinion that the spoken words will not number more. The difficulty of fixing the number of spoken words may be realized from the fact that the signs are so universally used, to the neglect of the sounds, that the opportunity afforded to catch the sound and interpret the meaning is rare. In short, while the words do exist, they are never used excepting when actual necessity requires their use. Signs are not only more comprehensive than sounds, but the meaning is conveyed more quickly and with greater ease emphasized. Sounds are used chiefly to attract attention where signs would fail. Therefore, signs are used to the exclusion of sounds, whenever they will answer the purpose.
The Chinese language is more nearly like the Cat language than any of the existing languages, and so closely resembles it in very many respects as to almost persuade me that the language of the Cat was derived from it. It is a wonderful thing, and well worth our attention, that no people are more fond of the feline than the Chinese, who utilize the little animal to a greater extent than people in any other part of the world. It is not a fact generally known, but it is a fact that reveals itself to all foreigners who visit the Celestial Empire, all of whom assure us of its truth, that the Chinese use the Cat to tell the time of day. This they are enabled to do by a close observation of the contraction and elongation of the pupil of the eye. It is said to be an unerring sign and always answers the purpose of correctly indicating the hour and part of an hour where a clock is not at hand, or may be too costly an article of household furnishing for the poorer classes among the moon-eyed creatures of the Orient.
In the Chinese language there are few words, and, like the Chinese, the sounds uttered in the Cat language are musical tones, mellifluous and pleasing to the senses. Like the Chinese, too, the words have various meanings, according to the inflections of the voice. The resemblance in the use and disuse of certain letters, is significant, and never more so than in the constant infusion of the vowels. Take, for instance, the word "mieouw," so frequently heard, uttered by the feline, and meaning, literally, "here," and we find in it a word of five letters, three absolute and one "possible" vowels.
Give attention, for a moment, to the word "purrieu," which is a note of satisfaction and content, and give attention to the number of vowels and the Frenchman's roll of the liquid "r," so that it comes to the ear like "pur-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-rieu," with a gradually ascending inflection. In plain English, it means "happy," or, more comprehensively, perhaps, "all is quiet along the Potomac," and "I am as happy as a clam at high water," expressions whose weight and importance were better understood by the soldiers of the army of the Potomac, after the Battle of Bull Run, and by lovers of the crustacean, than by ordinary people.
A matronly Cat will always use the last-mentioned word in calling together her family under ordinary circumstances, and continue it while caressing them, frequently merging it into a song much lower and sweeter to the sense than the lullaby we all have heard from the lips of the gentle mother while nestled tenderly upon her heart. The meaning of this word is never so well understood by kittens as when uttered in a sharp tone and repeated a number of times more as an explosive than otherwise, for it is a warning of danger and a call for instant action from the mother-Cat, who is imperious in her demands for obedience, which is the first law in her family life.
The sounds of the labials, b, f, m, p, v, w and y, are more frequently heard in words of anger than otherwise, as, for instance, in the significant war-cry and notes of defiance, out on the woodshed, in the hours of the night when fair Luna is enthroned in the peaceful sky, in contradistinction to the battle-field in the back yard. This may be written "mie-ouw, vow, wow teiow yow tiow, wow yow, ts-s-s-s-syow!" ending in an explosion. The signification is both a defiance and a curse, and comes so near to bold, bad swearing that I hesitate to put in words the English of it. The word "yow," means extermination from the face of the earth, and when the common word "mieouw" is used with strong emphasis upon the first syllable, it means "beware!" for the fur is about to fly.
The disposition of the Cat to mouth her words has given the impression to many who have studied her utterances to conclude that most, if not all of her words begin with the sound of the letter "m," and this is an error which cost me months of wasted time while seeking to evolve the Cat language. It is natural for a Cat, as well as a necessary precaution in every animal, including man, to keep the mouth closed and breathe only through the nostrils, excepting while in the act of eating, drinking or speaking. It will be noticed that when the mouth is open the sound that comes most naturally and readily is that of the letter "m." The deception originated in this fact. I will admit a tendency of the feline to anticipate the word with this sound, but to suppose that every word of the Cat language commences with that sound is erroneous. The plaintive cry for food, "aelio," was, for a long time, set down by me with the letter "m" preceding it, and it was not until I had appreciated the uselessness of that letter preceding the word "lae," meaning "milk," that I disregarded the letter "m," and arrived at the true spelling of these and many other words which were uttered singly or at the beginning of a sentence. The word "alieeo," meaning "water," is subject to the same misspelling, there being no "m" at the beginning of it, but the word uttered at the door, when the Cat wants it opened, "parrierre," meaning "open," is never preceded with the labial, as it could not be pronounced in company with the letter "p."
The utterance of the word "bl" may have been noticed by an observer when the mother-Cat has brought a mouse to her kitten. I have given as close a resemblance to the sound as possible, in the English language, and it signifies "meat," and not "mouse," as one might be led to suppose, "ptleo-bl," meaning "mouse-meat," and "bleeme-bl," cooked meat.
The word "pad" means "foot," and "leo" signifies "head." "Pro" is the feline for "nail or claw," and "tut" for "limb," while the body is called "papoo" and the fur "oolie."
The most surprising characteristic of the Cat is, undoubtedly, her wonderful appreciation of the passage of time and the invariable correctness with which the feline notes the hour and even the minutes after the hour, without the aid of, or even appearing to comprehend the value of a clock in computing time. This wonderful gift was one of the first of my discoveries, as it was one of the most interesting rewards for my labors. Appreciating that the Cat must have recourse to sounds for the expression of the hours in their conversation, I applied myself to the study of them, and was astonished at the rapidity with which I acquired the Cat-words standing for numbers. In this labor I was materially aided by my knowledge of the tendency of the feline to gesticulate, and when a number was spoken I noticed, regarding the lowest of them, that the Cat would significantly pat her foot, say once for one; twice for two and so on, even to seven times occasionally. The highest numbers were not difficult of attainment by the Cat language, because of the lack of gesticulations comprehensive of the quantity. By other signs I arrived at a correct conclusion and became as perfect in the words and their meanings as the Cat herself. I was greatly rejoiced at this easy victory, and regarded it as a good omen of success in my more difficult undertaking of acquiring the full language, not anticipating the years of toil, whose arduousness, however, was lightened, at long intervals, by success. The numbers, correct beyond doubt, are as follows:
The word "hoo" means "hundred." The word "milli" stands for "thousands" in the English language. The word "zule" means "millions," and a millionaire in the Cat language is a "zuluaim."
Concerning the sense of the arrangement of sounds for the numbers I have nothing to say, for I cannot account for their selection, but the musical sweetness of the sounds in conjunction is wonderfully striking. Mark the euphony of the language in the expression of numbers conjunctively, for instance, in expressing the amount ninety-nine millions, seven hundred and forty-three thousands, two hundred and thirty-four—"nole-no zulus, el hoo sule-zah millis, ki hoo zahle-su." Again, let the ear catch the music as I give you, in the Cat language, the expression of one hundred and fifty-seven millions, six hundred and fifty-four thousands, eight hundred and thirty-nine—"aim hoo imle-el zulus, lah hoo imle-su millis, ic hoo zahle-no." Once more, let me express the euphony in the interpretation into the Cat language of eight hundred and eighty-eight millions, four hundred and ninety-one thousands, seven hundred and sixty-five—"ic hoo icle-ic zulus, su hoo nole-aim millis, el hoo lahle-im." Now take the table and you may find much pleasure in making up your own combinations of figures, none of which will be other than musical.
The expression of the time of day by the man on the tramway, is the expression of the time of day in the Cat language by the feline as, for instance, in telling that the time was eight-eighteen, the Cat would say "ic ic-doo;" twelve forty-five would be "ro sule-im;" nine thirty-seven, "no zahle-el;" three thirty-three, "zah zahle-zah;" eight thirty-eight, "ic zahle-ic;" two twenty-two, "ki kile-ki;" four thirty-nine, "su zahle-no;" five fifty-five, "im imle-im;" six twenty-three, "lah kile-zah," and so forth.
It is not my intention in this mere paper to give a lexicon of the feline language. So short a treatise could not comprise so elaborate a work. Even were the space adequate, I have not, as yet, accumulated the information, because the time devoted to the subject has not been adequate to the labor of investigation, which is, necessarily, intricate and far-reaching. Neither do I propose to mystify the reader by giving that most misleading of all inventions of the linguist, a grammar of the feline language, any more than I intend to inflict a dictionary upon the world. If I succeed in presenting to the reader a comprehensive, or in any appreciable or satisfactory degree comprehensive conception of the Cat language, demonstrating what I know of my own knowledge, after years of investigation, that the Cat has a distinct, simple and fully adequate language, universal for all particular purposes, and intelligible to all felines, as well as to all humanity who will seek to acquire it, I will have accomplished my object for the present. In this paper my desire is to lay the foundation for a larger structure in the future. My greatest desire is to interest the world in this worthy subject and induce investigations by others. I have no wish to be selfishly exclusive. I do not seek any honor or remuneration for my labors and discoveries. My reward will come with the reward to the feline, which must necessarily follow that elevation of the Cat succeeding the recognition of the fact claimed by me.
I have not yet discovered that any naturalist, linguist, philologist or scientist has, thus far, either presented or advocated the theory of the feline language comprehensive enough to be understood by man, but I bear in mind what your great Shakespeare wrote, "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreampt of in your philosophy," and allow, without dispute, that all I have written may have been thought out and even printed by some other writer than myself, but it is, at least, new to me, and I think the reader will admit that it is new to him as an entirety. Of course every reader has heard the peculiar cries and expressions of the Cat, and will remember some word or words, and will have no difficulty in following up his or her investigations.
Remembering that mere words form but a very small part of the feline language, I desire to lay particular stress upon the signs which, in the Cat language, are paramount and always intelligible to man, no matter what tongue he may choose to speak or from what part of the world he may come. One of the beauties, as well as one of the advantages of the muscular signs of an expression is that it needs no grammar, no dictionary, no elaborate treatise upon rhetoric, etymology, syntax, prosody or other advantages of belles-lettres, to refine and perfect it. Because of this happy fact, the uneducated man, as we are apt to call those who are ignorant of our acquirements, may express his thoughts as fluently, as correctly and as gracefully as his superiors in knowledge, wealth and refinement. By the sign-language a whole sentence may be expressed better in a fraction of a second than by the word language in a much greater space of time. Therefore, its importance is of inestimable value.
I have already given seventeen of the most important words of the feline language, with their English equivalents, as follows:
| Aelio | Food. |
| Lae | Milk. |
| Parriere | Open. |
| Aliloo | Water. |
| Bl | Meat. |
| Ptlee-bl | Mouse meat. |
| Bleeme-bl | Cooked meat. |
| Pad | Foot. |
| Leo | Head. |
| Pro | Nail or claw. |
| Tut | Limb. |
| Papoo | Body. |
| Oolie | Fur. |
| Mi-ouw | Beware. |
| Purrieu | Satisfaction or content. |
| Yow | Extermination. |
| Mieouw | Here. |
To correctly interpret the words of a sentence, the important fact must be borne in mind that the order of speech is not the same in the feline tongue as in almost any other language. I claim to be master of forty-nine different and distinct languages, and none but the Latin and the French—my native tongue—approach in regularity the order of speech of the feline language. In the latter the order of speech is as it was with Adam. Primitively, in the construction of sentences, the most important word of the subject matter was given first. I claim that all languages would be bettered, to a great extent, if this order were observed, and I cannot withhold my condemnation of the inconsistent and reckless men who falsely asserted themselves to be learned, who carelessly contrived many of the languages of communities of people. I believe the language of signs to be God's language, and that it cannot be improved upon. I never have found a grammar of any language, not even the French grammar, all sufficient and adequate to the purposes for which it is supposed to have been intended. In fact, you may say that grammars are beyond my comprehension, if you like, and I will not deny the allegation, for I know that they are beyond the understanding of the grand majority of human beings of all tongues.
Neither have I ever found a dictionary, in any language, which gives correct definitions of a majority of the words in common use. The reader has been informed of my estimation of the great American dictionary compiled by Noah Webster, who was, I have no doubt, a very good and erudite man, but one subject to strong temptations, such, for instance, as those of publishers, whose blandishments are irresistible to many writers and apt to mislead the honest author.
In the feline language the rule is to place the noun or the verb first in the sentence, thus preparing the mind of the hearer for what is to follow. To my thinking, this is the proper form of speech and the only arrangement of words for any language. I never could admire the speaker who launches out in a mystifying rhapsody on some human being or some subject near his heart, by saying something after this manner: "Mr. Chairman, I am about to name a gentleman who," et cetera, and "a man well known to all the world as a," et cetera. In this strain long continued, until the hearers tire of the mystification and call loudly, in their justifiable impatience, for the inconsistent orator to give the name of the individual, as he should have done at first, so that the hearers might compare notes while the eulogy was proceeding. When I read, or listen to the reading of a letter, I want to know, first of all, the name of the writer, for in him centres all the interest I may have in the information contained in the communication. By the measure of my interest in the writer, I measure the interest in his letter.
According to the primal order of speech and the manner of the construction of sentences in the Cat language, you will hear such utterances as these: "Milk give me," "Meat I want," "Mary I love," "Going out, my mistress?" "Sick I am," "Happy are my babies."
In the translation of words of the feline language the inflection of the voice must constantly be kept in mind, for this, as well as the sound, denotes the meaning intended to be conveyed. For instance, "meouw," spoken in the ordinary tone of voice, means "how," and is a salutation of good-will, expressed in English by "Good morning," "Good evening," or "How d'ye do?" When the same word is uttered in a high tone of voice the first syllable "me," strongly emphasized, as indicated in "meouw," hatred, or something akin to it, is expressed by the feline. Similarly, the word "purrieu," when spoken with a long roll of the letter "r" and a rising inflection to the last syllable, is a call of the mother to her kittens; when spoken with a shrill inflection to the last syllable, the word is a note of warning to her loved ones, and when the word is uttered in an ordinary tone of voice, while the Cat rubs her side against the dress of her mistress, it denotes satisfaction, affection, or it may be a part of the feline's system of cajolery. The word "yew," also, when uttered as an explosive, is the Cat's strongest expression of hatred, and a declaration of war, but it is, also, her word for expressing a feeling of pain, or giving notice that she is ill, when uttered in an ordinary, or perhaps, in a low tone of voice. In short, there is scarcely a word in the feline language whose meaning is not subject to four or more directly opposite interpretations, according to the inflections given in its expression. "Poopoo" means tired—"poopoo" with a slight emphasis upon the first syllable means sleep—"poopoo" with a strong emphasis upon the last syllable means work, and this drives the paterfamilias out after food for the infants and mother, but when the last syllable is spoken in an explosive tone, such as poor Mr. Caudle might have uttered when henpecked by his tantalizing wife during her curtain lectures. The same word "poopoo" when uttered with a falling tone on the last syllable, is an expression of sorrow and grief.
I do not know of any sounds more soothing to the nerves of man as musical, or as musically correct in rhythm, intonation or melody, as the song of the Cat when at peace with all the world. I have listened to it many times, and many times endeavored to translate the words of the song, but, owing to the fact that she sings with closed mouth, no word has been distinct enough to separate from other words of the song. Perhaps at no distant day science, through the medium of electricity, may furnish a means of discovering not only the words of the singer, but also many words of the feline language which, through ignorance, are now mouthed by the Cat for lack of knowledge of the importance of emphasis and clearness of expression.
Signs, in the feline language, are almost invariably made through the medium of the muscles, and are adequate to every expression. To this language they are an absolute desideratum. Almost invariably they accompany the word-signs of the language from a habitually unconstrained feeling and a desire to better convey the meaning of the speaker.
To put into words every such expressions is more than word-language is capable of, which is the strongest proof of the inadequateness of words for the proper and sufficient expression of ideas, and the superiority of signs for the manifestation of ideas and desires. No tiresome, misleading and fallacious grammar, no stuffy, lame, meaningless dictionary, no wearisome spelling-book, containing words which are all "at sixes," born in the prize-ring, with a heritage of hatred for each other, and refusing forever to become reconciled one to the other; no unpronounceable pronouncing dictionary, in which words are all zigzag, stubbornly resisting every attempt to straighten out and stand them upright, like a man, but determined to inscribe themselves upon the brain in every conceivable pyrotechnical contempt of straight lines or uniformity in any respect, askew in reckless profligacy, in defiance of euphony and as uncontrollable as they are funny; no ridiculously prolix analyzer, no hobbling treatise upon syntax or prosody of a heterogeneous language of word-signs, invented to confound those who seek, as well as those who possess a knowledge of the language of signs. Yet many signs refuse to be disgraced by being rendered into words.
Noticeable among those of the signs unpronounceable are many expressed by the sons of Judah, Levi and Benjamin, such as the bending forward of the shoulders and extending of the hands, palms upward, and the placing of the index finger to the right hand upon the right side of the nose; the Frenchman's shrug of the shoulders, the gyration of the Englishman's finger while the end of the thumb rests upon the point of his nose; the twirl of the Irishman's shillelah, and his expressive manner of puffing smoke from his short-stemmed dhudeen; the sudden change from animation to stolidity in the German, and the multitudinous and inexpressible signs of the gesticulating children of sunny Italy.
In the sign language of the Cat an expression is conveyed in the same manner as by the human being, but the feline has a great advantage over man in the possession of more utilizing forces. There is the language of the ear, the tail, the limb, the body, the facial, including the mouth, the nose, the eye, the brow, the chin, the lip and the whiskers, the motion of the whole and the significant general appearance, as in the carriage while in motion, and the form when at rest.
The language of the tail cannot be misinterpreted, suggestive as it is of the feelings of the Cat. When she raises it, like a flagstaff, we know that she is proud of herself and satisfied with her condition, as well as the condition of all other things. When the appendage is an appendage to all intents and purposes, and streams out in the rear of its possessor, she is not letting the grass grow under her feet. When it waves from side to side it is a token of dislike of position and significant of a change. When it curls under her body it is a sign of fear, and when it is extended with the fur on end, "like quills upon the fretful porcupine," there is a strong probability that there will be commingled in the air untheological imprecations, a sulphurous blue tinge and loose fur. When it lashes from side to side it signifies a war of extermination. When it twitches, that is a sign of amusement. When it is pointed toward the fire it speaks of rain. When it inclines toward the door it says that its mistress may go shopping without an umbrella, and while it is curled upon its side it betokens that all is quiet along the owner's line of life.
These, among many signs given by use of the tail, have been noted by everybody. The facial signs are more numerous, and a multitude of signs find means of communication through the medium of the ear, the limbs, the feet and the trunk. So plain must the signs be to every human being, of whatever mental capacity, that I deem it a work of supererogation to occupy the reader's time in an explanation of what is so palpably apparent, and I therefore leave the subject, hoping that watchful care and pleasant study will fully develop the feline language to the end that the Cat may be understood as she really is, and elevated from a degrading position to one of still greater usefulness. In conjunction with the study of the feline language, and as an aid to its acquirement, I would recommend the remodeling of the English language, so that it may, to a larger degree, be comprehended by those who are acquainted with it. I would direct attention particularly to the words ending in "ough," such as "cough, bough, rough, though, through, although, enough, sough, tough, trough, and plough."
I would have you notice that you seem undecided which to say, whether "men clothing," or "men's clothing," the plural of "man" being "men." You will remember that the plural of "ox" is "oxen," not "oxes," the plural of "fox" is not "foxen," but "foxes." I am surprised when I take a glass of wine with an English-speaking gentleman to see him touch my glass with the rim of his own and to hear him say: "Here we go!" while he remains stationary and makes no attempt to leave me. I am hoping for the time to come when the reformation of the English language will be so complete that when the conductor on a tramway cries "look out!" he will mean what he says, so that the Frenchman may save his head from being crushed by putting it out of the carriage window because of the misdirection of the official of the train. I shall hope for such reformation as will save me from insulting a widow, unintentionally, by innocently telling her that I am aware that her worthy and lamented husband has kicked over the bucket, because I was informed that it was the proper expression in the English for our French word "mort."
Hoping, by your aid, for better things for my favorite, the Cat, and thanking you very much for your kind attention to my paper, I have the honor of wishing you au revoir.
ALPHONSE LEON GRIMALDI.
The work of the Professor is complete as far as he has gone. I shall expect to hear from him again, some day, if his paper meets with encouragement from the people of this country.
There can be no doubt that with the aid of the phonograph and other modern instruments which have recently been discovered, and which he so significantly anticipated in his references to electricity, great progress will be made in translating and disseminating the feline language. In aid of this object, as well as to provide proper homes and medical attendance for the felines, with an eye to their comfort and the improvement of the breed, material assistance should be given by the ruling powers in every nation. It is a subject of vast importance and I leave it for the consideration of the great American public and other nations as well.
MARVIN R. CLARK.
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