There is a legend that a beautiful princess, a king's daughter, having
gone down to bathe one day, was there enchanted by her wicked
stepmother, who hated her; and by the spell of the enchantment she was
doomed to be one year a cat, another a swan, and another an otter; but with
the privilege of assuming her natural shape one day in each year, under
certain conditions. It is to be regretted that we have no account as to the
mode in which the Princess Faithlean exercised her brief enjoyment of
human rights; for the narration would have had a mystic and deep
psychological interest if the fair young victim had only retained during all
her transformations the memory of each of her successive incarnations as
the cat, the swan, and the otter.
This abnormal mode of existence, however, was not unusual amongst
the Irish. Fionn himself had a wife who for seven years was alive by day
and dead by night; and the Irish Princess Zeba, being enchanted by her
wicked stepfather, the king of Munster, died and came to life again each
alternate year.
All nations seem to have appreciated the mysterious amid almost human
qualities of cat nature; the profound cunning, the impertinent indifference,
the intense selfishness, yet capable of the most hypocritical flatteries when
some point has to be gained. Their traits are not merely the product of brute
instinct with unvarying action and results, but the manifestation of a
calculating intellect, akin to the human. Then their grace and flexile beauty
make them very attractive; while the motherly virtues of the matron cat are
singularly interesting as a study of order, education, and training for the
wilful little kitten, quite on the human lines of salutary discipline.
Humboldt declared that he could spend a whole day with immense profit
and advantage to himself as a philosopher, by merely watching a cat with
her kittens, the profound wisdom of the mother and the incomparable grace
of the children. For cats are thoroughly well-bred, born aristocrats; never
abrupt, fussy, or obtrusive like the dog, but gentle, grave, and dignified in
manner. Cats never run, they glide softly, and always with perfect and
beautiful curves of motion; and they express their affection, not violently,
like the dog, but with the most graceful, caressing movements of the head.
Their intellect also is very remarkable; they easily acquire the meaning of
certain words, and have a singular and exact knowledge of hours.
Mr. St. George Mivart, in Imis interesting and exhaustive work on cats,
has devoted a whole chapter to the psychology of the cat; in which he shows
that the race possesses evident mental qualities and peculiar intelligence,
with also a decided and significant language of sounds and gestures to
express the emotions of the cat mind. The highly reflective and observant
nature of the cat is also admirably described in that very clever novel called
"The Poison Tree," recently translated from the Bengalee. There the house-
cat is drawn with the most lifelike touches, as she sits watching the noble
and beautiful lady at work on her embroidery, while her little child is
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