Pussy has also been fortunate in having two strings to his bow—personal beauty and utility. No other creature so dainty, so artistically delightful; a thing of beauty, and—to the appreciative—a joy forever; no other creature so dexterous in pursuit of mice, so self-supporting, so acute! Throughout the ages, therefore, through prosperity and adversity, Pussy, like the Jews, has flourished. The honors of divinity did not turn his handsome head, and persecution has failed to uproot his race from the soil.
What a small bit of life he is; yet when absent, how we miss him! Only think of Wales, in good King Howel’s time; when rats were rampagious, when a kitten, even before it could see, was worth a penny, and heavy fines were imposed on whoever should hurt or kill a cat. Think of Varbach, that little German town where mice ran riot, until at last a cat was obtained. Think of Whittington; how with a cat in his arms he sailed to a country where cats were not, and made his fortune—through the cat! There are skeptics, of course, who call this pretty story a myth; and very possibly, like some other good old stories, it has put on with time some of the colors of a fairy tale; but that little Dick had a cat, and a valued one—so much, at least, may well be true. The queer bas-relief at Guildhall Museum in London has an appearance of verity; and as it was found in a house which once belonged to the Whittington family, and had been occupied in the famous Lord Mayor’s life-time by his nephew, it not improbably commemorates some actual fact in the great man’s history.
One of the earliest pet cats on record is that of Prince Hana, an Egyptian notability who lived several thousand years ago, and between the stone feet of whose statue was placed the statuette of his cat, Bouhaki. The latter may still be seen in the Louvre, sitting erect in a dignified attitude, squarely confronting posterity, so to say, with a gold collar around its neck, and ear-rings in its ears!
BAS-RELIEF OF WHITTINGTON
AND HIS CAT.
(At the Guildhall Museum,
London. )
Early in history, also, and more famous than Bouhaki is Muezza, the cat of Mahomet. Every one knows how the Prophet sat reading one day, with the favorite curled up in peaceful slumber on the wide sleeve of his robe; and how, rather than disturb her, when obliged to go, he gently cut off the sleeve. No wonder, with such an example before them, that Mahommedans still honor cats.
From Mahomet to Petrarch is quite a step—not only in point of time, but of character. Nevertheless, these great men had one thing in common—their affection for cats. Laura was not enough for the poet; he must also have his little white “micino,” holding it second only to the lady of his heart, and so mourning its death as to have it embalmed. This veritable cat may be seen to-day in Petrarch’s house at Arquà—at least the guide assures us it is the same. For my own part, I have no more doubt of its identity than of the blood-spot in Holyrood. I take the one to be Rizzio’s blood; I take the other to be the immortal poet’s equally immortal cat—and thank my stars I am not so skeptical as some people!
Lovers of Petrarch all visit Arquà, and, if literary, are very apt to commemorate the visit with their pen. Such an one was Tassoni, whose charming verse may be roughly rendered as follows:
“Now rises the lovely hill of Arquà