Cats are as old as time. At least their existence dates back as far as man’s in history, and they were formerly regarded as a sacred animal.
In ancient Egypt we find that Master Tomas, with his round face and rugged whiskers, symbolized the sun. Preserved in the British Museum are abundant proofs of the reverence and superstition with which the feline race was regarded by the Egyptians. Here several of these revered Grimalkins are mummied in spices, and perfumes, and balsams, in which they have survived the unknown centuries of the past, “to contrast the value of a dead cat in the land of the Pharaohs with the fate of such relics in modern times, ignominiously consigned to the scavenger’s cart, or feloniously hanging upon a tree, the scarecrow of the orchard.”
Diodorus, the Greek writer, 1st century B. C., informs us that such was the superstitious veneration with which the Egyptians regarded cats, that no one could ruffle the fur of Tom or Tabby with impunity, and that any man killing a cat was put to death. (O, what a country it must have been to sleep in!) In Ptolemy’s time, while the Roman army was established in Egypt, one of the Romans killed a cat, when the people flew to his house, and dragged him forth, and neither the fear of the soldiers nor the influence of the prince could deliver the unfortunate cat-slayer from the wrath of the infuriated mob.
Mohammed had a superstition for cats, and was said to have been constantly attended by one. A cat hospital was founded at Damascus in respect to the prophet’s predilection, which Baumgarten, the German professor (1714 to 1762) found filled with feline inmates. Turkey maintained several public establishments of this kind.
Howell the Good, king of Wales, 10th century, legislated for the cat propagation, and it would seem that the race was limited, since a week old kitten sold for a penny,—a great deal of money in those days,—and fourpence for one old enough to catch a mouse. The following ludicrous penalty was attached to a cat-stealer:—
“If any person stole a cat that guarded the prince’s granaries he was to forfeit a milch ewe, fleece, and lamb; or, in lieu of these, as much wheat as, when poured upon the cat, suspended by the tail, her head touching the floor, would form a heap high enough to bury her to the tail tip.”
This would seem rather hard on poor pussy, even to threatening her suffocation.
Huc, in his “Chinese Empire,” tells us that the Chinese peasantry are accustomed to tell the noon hour from the narrowing and dilation of the pupils of pussy’s eyes; they are said to be drawn down to a hair’s-breadth precisely at twelve o’clock. This horological utility, however, by no means gives her a fixed tenure in a Chinese home. There she enters into the category of edible animals, and, having served the purpose of a cat-clock, is seen hanging side by side with the carcasses of dogs, rats, and mice in the shambles of every city and town of the celestial empire.
Descending to the middle ages, a mal-odor of magic taints the fair fame of our protégés, more especially attaching itself to black or brindled cats, which were commonly found to be the “familiars” of witches; or, rather, their “familiars” were supposed to take the form of these animals; and hence, in nearly all judicial records of these unhappy delusionists, demons in the shape of cats are sure to figure. The witches in “Macbeth” (for what impression of the times he lived in has Shakspeare lost?) awaited the triple mewing of the brindled cat to begin their incantations; and more scientific pretenders to a knowledge of the occult arts are usually represented as attended in their laboratories by a feline companion.
Fragments of a superstitious faith in the magical, or what was till comparatively recent times so nearly allied with it, the medicinal attributes of the animal, still surviving in certain rustic and remote districts of England, where the brains of a cat of the proper color (black, of course) are esteemed a cure for epilepsy; and where, within our memory, such a faith induced a wretched being, in the shape of woman, mad with despair and rage, to tear the living heart from one of these animals, that, by sticking it full of pins and roasting it, she might bring back the regard of a man, brutal and perfidious as herself. Such formulæ are frequently to be met with in the works of ancient naturalists and physicians, and were, doubtlessly, handed down from generation to generation, and locally acted upon in desperate cases.