"Why doest thou laugh?
What mare's nest hast thou found?"
—Beaumont and Fletcher, Bonduca.
In France it is the rabbit's nest, "nid le lapin," that people sometimes discover.
It is a curious thing that the fidelity and affection of the dog get little or no recognition in proverb-lore. This may possibly arise from the fact that in the East, the original source of many of our proverbs, the dog is held in no esteem. He is an outcast, the scavenger of the streets. "Him that dieth in the city shall the dogs eat"; and "Is thy servant a dog that he should do this thing?" was the indignant outburst of Hazael. In classic days it was said of a morose, ill-conditioned person, "A black dog has walked over him," and at the present day such a person is said to have "the black dog on his back." The dog of the fabulist that dropped the substance for the shadow was held up as a warning in his greed and folly, and "to dog" a person is not to lavish canine affection on them by any means; while a favourite piece of nursery teaching was, and perhaps still is, that "Dogs delight to bark and bite." "Every dog," we are told, "has his day," and "Love me, love my dog," has sometimes been made a stipulation. Latimer puts it more pleasantly, "Whosoever loveth me loveth my hound"—from his regard for me he will for my sake look kindly on what he knows to be dear to me.
To him who is hungry any food is welcome—"À la faim il n'y a point de mauvais pain," and therefore "Hungry dogs will eat dirty pudding." "Let sleeping dogs lie" is excellent counsel; the precept is not in the interest of the sleepers but of those injudicious enough to disturb their slumbers. "It is nought goode," writes Chaucer in his "Troylus and Cryseyde," "a sleping hound to wake," and again in the "Frankeleine's Tale," "Wyf, quod he, lat slepen that is stille"; while Shakespeare writes, in "Henry VIII.":—
"This butcher's cur is venom-mouth'd, and I
Have not the power to muzzle him; therefore best
Not wake him in his slumber."
In Italy and Germany we have the same proverb, but it becomes in France "N'as tu pas tort de reveiller le chat qui dort," a much less formidable proceeding; and in Spain we find the variant, "When sorrow is asleep do not awaken it." Another Spanish proverb, and one of excellent wisdom, is "Though your blood-hound be gentle do not bite him on the lip." It is, by the way, remarkable how gentle big dogs are, mastiffs, retrievers, Newfoundlands, and the like, while being mauled and hauled by small children. Little Bessie, aged five, might venture to any extent on her great companion's forbearance and magnanimity, while we, reader, must exercise much more discretion.
"Give a dog a bad name and then you may as well hang him"[165:A] is a true and very oft-quoted adage. One less well known is "He that would hang his dog gives out first that he is mad."[166:A] He who is about to do something dubious first bethinks himself of some plausible excuse that appears to justify his action, and when this is accepted he is free from all fear of interference. The Greeks say that "He who keeps another man's dog shall have nothing left but the line." If he endeavour to keep it dishonestly—in fact, to become a dog-stealer—he cannot complain if such care as he has bestowed comes to nought and nothing is left to him but the cord and the food-bill. One old commentator would tell us that the meaning is that "He who bestows a benefit upon an ungrateful person loses his cost." This is a common enough experience, but it scarcely appears to be a moral springing from this proverb. The dog, stolen, tied up, amongst strangers, has no particular reason to feel grateful! The following proverb, "Wash the dog and comb the dog, still the dog remains the dog," indicates that externals do not affect the real nature.
Other doggy sayings are: "Two dogs agree not well over one bone," "Brawling curs have torn ears," "A scalded dog dreads cold water." Those who, having a good staff of assistants, find that much of the burden and responsibility yet weighs on them, will appreciate the point of the adage, "What, keep a dog, and bark myself?" a proceeding that certainly seems unreasonable. The Turks have a happy proverb that "The dog barks, but the caravan passes," its fussy interference being simply ignored. The Spaniards declare, in like manner, that "More are threatened than are stabbed," while the Dutch with equal wisdom advise us that "No one dies of threats." The Danes very happily warn us against judging too hastily in the hint that "An honest man is none the worse because a dog barks at him."
The cat takes its place in our proverb-literature. The "Kilkenny cats" that fought so desperately have often been quoted as a warning to warring factions, and tenacity of purpose gone mad and self-destructive. The old belief that a cat has nine lives has also got embalmed in an adage, and the question will be recalled, in "Romeo and Juliet," "What wouldst thou have with me?" the reply being, "Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine lives."[167:A] Yet "Care," we are told, "will kill a cat." While we may accept this saw on its moral side, and learn from it a lesson against despondency, its zoological side is open to grave question. A cat dying of anxiety may fairly be bracketted off with the broken-hearted oyster crossed in love. The "Grinning like a Cheshire cat," in a continual state of mirthful good humour, suggests a quite opposite phrase of feline nature. To "let the cat out of the bag" is another old saying that will at once occur to the reader; a less known, but very good one, Scotch in its birth, is, "He that puts the cat in the pock kens best how to tak' her oot." Another good proverb of like nature is, "Who will carry the cat to the water?"—i.e. who will endeavour to carry the plan through, undeterred by the difficulty of its accomplishment? To be made "a catspaw of" is also a very expressive saying; it arose from the old fable of the monkey using the cat's paw instead of his own to rake out chestnuts from the glowing embers. To live "a cat-and-dog life" is to lead such an existence of strife and snarl as one ordinarily sees in the aversion felt by these two animals for each other. The old saw, "A cat may look at a king," has, too, ordinarily been used as an impertinence.[168:A] In France its equivalent is "Un chien regarde bien l'évêque."
