The Catholic World Volume Iii Part 122

That--what?

Wait a moment, I'll tell you. One day, as I happened to be out walking along a certain road, I noticed an a.s.s tied to a post, around which, within the full length of his rope, there was not a single blade of gra.s.s to crop. The poor fellow was slabsided, and his skin sc.r.a.ped, and half tanned by the frequent application of bark on the living wood; evidently getting few caresses of a softer kind, but enjoying in the most complete sense of the word, "the right to work." Naturally, I stopped a moment to bid him good-day and ask after his a.s.s-ship's health, after which I plucked a fine thistle growing within tantalizing reach of his rope, and gave it to him. He gobbled it down with great gusto.

"How do you like that, my old chap?" said I to him, mechanically.

"First rate," said he, "hand us another."

I jumped back in astonishment.

"What! you can talk, can you, my Bucephalus, and in English too? That is something new."

"Not so new as you think, my dear sir, for I will let you into a little bit of a secret. a.s.s as I am, and as you see me to be, I was a man in my time and a butcher by trade. I had an a.s.s that I treated most scurvily, just as they do me now; giving him his bellyful of blows and kicks, but of very little {689} else. Poor Jack--that was his name--kept Lent all the year round, it being in the interest of my customers, as I often said to myself, to quiet the qualms of conscience when I gave him but half what he could eat. Let him stuff himself said I, and he will get fat and lazy, the meat will come late to the cook, the cook will be late with the dinner, and the hungry family will lose their temper, and I shall lose their custom, while good doses of the oil of strap will help his digestion wonderfully, and keep him lively. However, this last end was not attained, for the poor a.s.s kicked the traces--professional term, you understand--and went to the bone-boilers before his time. When it came to my turn to tie up--again professional--and go off the cart, my soul was condemned to go into an a.s.s's body to suffer for a certain time the punishment of retaliation. Drubbing for drubbing, kicks of hobnailed shoes for kicks of peg boots, I got what I gave, and good measure too, I a.s.sure yon. Do you see that half starved, thin-flanked old horse over there? Well, he is a companion in misery to me. In his time he was a hack-driver, and many a time in his fits of anger and drunkenness, he made an anvil of the backbone or the jaws of his horses. Only in those times, now and then, you understand, but those times happened often enough, say once an hour or so, every day. As to hay and oats, he tried to teach them, but without success, to go without those articles of luxury. When his turn came to pay up old debts, his soul was condemned to go into that sorry old carca.s.s, in which he pa.s.ses many a miserable quarter of an hour. He is a ragpicker's property now. How do you like that specimen of 'the n.o.blest conquest that man has ever made'? As to me, Sawney, at your service, I think the end of my punishment is not far off. It was given me to understand that when a benevolent gentleman would offer me a thistle for friendship's sake, it would end, and it is to you I owe this act of kindness, my dear Mr. Miller."

"Good again, you are a wiser a.s.s than I took you for. How do you know my name, master Sawney?"

"This way, sir. The other day I chanced to be tied to a post, near a hedge, on the other side of which, in a meadow, some folks were having a little picnic on the gra.s.s. After a while a tall lady in spectacles took out some papers and began to read for the company. She seemed to be reading, from what I could make out, in some magazine or other. I soon understood that the subject was a.s.ses, and then of course I c.o.c.ked up my ears to their full height. It was true, it was about us, abused and misunderstood beasts that we are. The articles read by the tall lady were so full of kindness, and contained such flattering remarks upon our species, that it almost brought the tears to my eyes.

The name signed to those articles was Jeremiah Miller. Oh! said I to myself, that is a man whom one could call a man. There is one at least who understands us and loves us; I promise myself that if I ever have the good fortune to meet him I will give him--in lieu of anything better--my blessing. You see that when you spoke to me just now so kindly, I said to myself, I wonder if this be not Mr. Jeremiah Miller, and then I called you by that name, and I see that I have just hit it."

"But"--my reader will say "of course you don't tell this story for a true one! You would never have the face to ask us to believe that this brayer actually spoke to you?"

And, pray, why not? But, after all it is possible I fell asleep on a mossy bank, in a meadow, near where an a.s.s was tied, and that I dreamed what I have told you. But dreams with the eyes shut are not always so very unlike the dreams we sometimes have when our eyes are open. As for myself, whenever I see a poor beast of burden brutally maltreated by another beast, who strikes and kicks as if he {690} meant murder, I allow my fancy to be tickled with a vision of this latter brute obliged to creep into the skin of a horse or a.s.s, and take his turn at being unjustly whipped, without having any attention paid to his bray or his neigh of expostulation or defence. You see that I am in every respect worthy of figuring among the members of the society for the prevention, etc., etc., but--

II.

But--I hold to the great principles of '76, and first of all to that of equality. If we must have a law for the protection of domestic animals against the men who torment _them_, I would like to see a law devised to protect men against the animals who are a pest to poor humanity, for the shoe sometimes gets on the other foot.

For example; look at that pack of dogs of all sizes, of all tastes, (I mean human,) and in every stage of canine civilization, which their masters permit to run at large in the streets of our city, even in the worst of the dog days, without counting the free and independent dogs who know no master but themselves. You have a friend who is a diligent reader of the chapter of accidents in the daily papers. He tells you about this or that dog who was seen running mad, that he had bitten two or three persons, one of whom has since died of hydrophobia, and adds with a peculiar relish that "the dangerous animal is still at large!" These gentlemen--I mean the owners of the dogs--are provokingly careless and indifferent about the muck which their dogs are running in the midst of a population biteable to any extent. You are kindly informed that if you happen to get bitten by some suspicious-looking cur--and what cur is not of a suspicious character in these days--it will be necessary to squeeze the wound, wash it, then cauterize it with a red hot iron, or cut it out, and then, etc., etc. These are most excellent recipes, I have no doubt, but I think I know of a better, which would be to prevent the bites altogether.

But, you say, there is the proclamation of his Honor, the Mayor, and there is the police, etc., etc. Dogs at large are to be muzzled or held by a chain. Oh! yes; very fine, indeed, when they are. The proclamation is very good, but since the dog owners pay so little heed to it, it is not surprising that the dogs themselves pay no more respect to it than they do to the proclamations of patent medicines pasted on the lamp-posts or fences. As to the country places outside of the city, whither we of the heated streets and close shops fly to get a breath of fresh air, and a moment of repose--there you will see fat men and thin ladies who never dream, either asleep or awake, of muzzling their favorite bull-dogs, lap-dogs, pointers, setters, tan terriers or greyhounds. Muzzle _their_ dogs! that would make the poor dogs, and their owners too, very uncomfortable. A pretty piece of impudence indeed for a village constable to presume to carry out the law against the dog, errant in delicto, which is the property of a Mr.

or a Mrs. or a Miss who is a "somebody," as if they were n.o.bodies. Mr.

Constable knows better than that, and so does Mr. Puffer, the magistrate.

Besides, there is a learned doctor of the society for the prevention, etc., who deplores with astonishment mingled with grief, etc., etc., that any one should be so inhumane as to gag "man's companion and friend" for the sake of the prevention of a few despicable cases of hydrophobia. He has never been bitten by a mad dog, and don't expect to be. He does not see why anybody else need expect to be.

Then there are our nurses and the children, whose daily promenade is embittered by the sight and often the attacks of some Snarleyow. "It was as good as a play," says Snarleyow's master; "Snarley nearly frightened them to death, I thought I should die of laughter to see them {691} scamper. It was great fun for Snarley." Very well, gentlemen, there is also something which is great fun for me too, and that is to kick Snarley whenever he presumes to be too "playful" with me or my particular friends the children.

Protect your "friends of man" if you will, gentlemen, but don't let them interfere with my friends, or---

III.

Permit me here to make a digression, which is not altogether one;

Man is defined, a reasonable animal.

Now the question arises whether woman is included in this definition.

Don't get angry, ladies--the horrid men, you know, are so curious!

IV.

From the friend of man let us pa.s.s to the subject of the friend of woman. And here I find myself face to face with a celebrated doc.u.ment which produced such a deep, or rather such a lively impression upon the public, a few weeks since. Who is there in the whole five parts of the world that has not heard of the noted "cat trial"? That learned decision and sentence given by Squire Pouter, justice of the peace in Dullville, is yet ringing in my ears, by which were avenged, as far as a fine from five cents to a dollar could avenge, a litter of fifteen cats illegally drowned. Illegally!--that at least was the opinion of the wise magistrate, who rendered his judgment at great length, and after his well known comprehensive style, citing his authors, complimenting the one, and refuting the others, bringing under contribution the code of Justinian, the English common law, the state statutes, and the discussions of the Legislature at Albany. In short, our modern Solon decided as follows: The cat, in its nature, is both a domestic and wild animal. As a wild animal, it is true, it is lawful game for the hunter; but, as a domestic animal, it has a right to live, and is under the august protection of the law. Now, since the wild part of its nature revolts against captivity, it has a right to come and go according to its instinctive desire for daily exercise, and housekeepers are not bound in conscience to make a raid upon them in their tender feline infancy under pretence that some day or other they will make a raid upon their pantry. Raids of prevention in the times of peace are unheard of in the history of the republic.

Therefore they are condemned (the raiders, in the present case, not the cats) to pay such and such fines, for the benefit of the fifteen victims, or their heirs or a.s.signs. Yes, indeed, this splendid judgment made a good deal of noise, and well it might. I, who am speaking to you reside in my own house, and have no evil intentions toward any one, but--there are three cats who come each evening from as many points of the compa.s.s for the purpose of making strategic attacks upon my eatables. Infinite are the precautions that I am forced to take to save my daily bread from the enemy. I must keep up an incessant fight, and a running fire, not to speak of the difficulty I experience in vain attempts to sleep with one eye open and my ear, which is not on the pillow, on the alert. I will not speak of their defiant caterwauling and spiteful spitting when they find my barricades impa.s.sable; it is too painful a subject for me to dwell upon.

Who are the victims of oppression, most eminent and sage magistrate?

Is civilized man positively to be given over in the name of the society for the prevention, etc., as a victim to the instincts and caprices of cats? Not at all, not at all, O ill.u.s.trious Pouter! I will see you and the cats--well--some distance, if not further, first.

Bring on your grimalkins, for my soul burns to avenge the rights of man!

{692}

It is not all. Here, for example, next door, lives Miss Lambkin; age unknown. She, by some unexplained perversion of taste, is keeping something in her house which is either an old sheep or a middle-aged goat. This cud-chewer, who lapses into ennui despite the charms of its mistress, bleats incessantly three times a minute, several thousands of times in the twenty-four hours. Is such an eternal see-saw of sound bearable? Is not my life a burden to me? Is not my liberty to think, to play my violin, to take my usual nap after dinner abridged by the liberty of Miss Lambkin's detestable foster child? And if I happen to be sick, or suffering from the tooth-ache or the headache, or melancholy, or perchance am sentimental, this beast, I suppose, must not be thwarted in its monotonous sing-song. _Mister_ Pouter, is there liberty for wolves? for most a.s.suredly I shall soon play the part of one!

I have not finished yet. Since the first of May a family has come to live in the house on the other side of mine. With father, mother and furniture comes a tall, wasp-waisted damsel who now pa.s.ses hours, yes, hours banging upon an aged piano. It is her method of bleating, and it is full as amusing as the other, if not a little less. Will the president of the society for the prevention, etc., inform us if there is any protection for aged pianos? A society for the _protection_ of men and pianos would find in me one of its most eloquent orators, diffuse writers, and active members. I would have all wandering Jews of unmuzzled dogs executed on the spot, knocked on the head or drowned, at choice. These at least have not the fifty cents in their pockets to pay for a living release.

As to the cats, I intend to memorialize the supreme court to declare the decision of our immortal justice of the peace non-const.i.tutional.

I wish it to be "legal" to kill, drown, or otherwise destroy any cat or cats found on strange premises, understood, of course that they are to be buried at the killer's expense, and the government not to be made liable to pay handsomely for public obsequies with military procession.

Bleating goats, or sheep, or parrots, _et tutti quanti_, to be invited to keep still, and not to speak until spoken to.

Lastly, as to the piano-bangers, I acknowledge the case is a little delicate, and any remedy whatsoever has its difficulties. I am not malicious, and am inclined to the side of resignation and toleration.

For after all, you know, they are ladies, and when you say that, it is enough. Without a.s.sociation you cannot accomplish anything nowadays; and where in the world could be found a sufficient number of men to form a society for their protection against _them_. After that, I do not see that it is necessary I should say anything further.

From the Dublin University Magazine

CAROL FROM CANCIONERO.

"Vista ciegs, luz occura"--_Cancionero General_. Valencia, 1511.

Lightsome darkness, seeing blindness.

Life in death, and grief in gladness, Cruelty in guise of kindness, Doubtful laughter, joyful sadness, Honeyed gall, embittered sweetness, Peace whose warfare never endeth, Love, the type of incompleteness, Proffers joy, but sorrow sendeth.

{693}

Translated from the French

THE PEARL NECKLACE.