The Countess and Her Cats.
One day recently the Countess do la Tone, who is famous in London as tho owner of a large number of cats, was summoned in a Police Court and ordered to destroy her pets, as they had become a nuisance to her neighbours." On this the "Pall _Mall Gazette " sent theirenterprising interviewer to see the Countess, with tho following result :— A CURIOUS INTERIOR. I pulled the bell at 3S, Pembroke Square, but it offered no resistance and made no sound. I knocked with my knuckles, but there was no answer. Tho lower sittingroom seemed to be empty, and the house, abovo und below, gave no sign of lffe. Ihe door was evidently new, and had received a first coat of red paint. It was without a knocker, or ahandle, or a number. 1 was beginning to think that I had como to tho wrong house when a boy who was playing in tho square ctied ont, " Look out! she s comino-1" and I hoard steps, and, after some unbarring of bolts, the door was cautiously opened. '-The Countess do la Torre?" "I am tho Countess. Come in. Tho door was carefully closed behind me, and I found myself in the narrow passage which would be called a hall by courtesy, half lighted by a long window opening on to the staircase. What little space there was was blocked with dishes, bottles, and bundles of newspapers. I followed the Countess into the sitting-room. She seated herself in a low chair near the window, guarded by wooden shutters drawn close together for protection from stray stones nnd iron, which sometimes came crashing through. She motioned me to a low oak chair, the only remnant of luxury in tho room. The floor was carpctlcss. In one corner was a small heap of blankets ; at my feet was a small open hamper half filled with straw, tho bed of one of her cats. Between ns stood a deal box, whtch might be used as a table, but was occupied by various cats during my sitting of two hours. By her side was another box filled to overflowing with letters and papers, to which she constantly referred. Tho wall was papered. The mantelpiece was Uttered with an undiscribable mass of odds and ends; n few ompty shelves were fixed in one corner, and that was all. Through the open folding-doors I saw another room, containing a plain iron bed with a few bed clothes, the only piece of furniture, unless one counted boxes and jugs, and plates of rad disinfecting powder. That, I presume, was tho bedreom.
THE COUNTESS'S BIOOKAPHY
In her chair by tho window, in that bare room, surrounded by her cats in council, sat the Countess, her face in the shado. She is apparently about forty-five years old, with a pale, intellectual face, furrowed by much trouble, a broad high forehead, from which her dark gray hair is brushed away. Her face lightens up when excited, and the wildnessof her brown eye softens when her oats jump up on her lap. A grey knitted shawl was fastened round her neck and fell to her waist, where it was joined by a well-worn cotton dreßs. " Perhaps," she began, '' I inherited my fondness for animals from my father. He had a passion for cats. Whenever I take a poor starved creature in I think of my father, and fancy that I am paying a tribute to his memory. I have no other tie in the world but my cats, no one to care for, no one to care for me." The Countess was born in the purple. Her father was Italian and her mother a Scotchwoman, but she herself is cosmopolitan, andspeakslluentlyEnglish.German, Italian, and French. The united fortunes of herself and her husband mado a most handsome income, but much of it was gambled away, and the Countess has lavished her own share with a free hand. Garibaldi was indebted to her for lar<;e sums of money, and that the Countess, who has paid so much for the cause of Italian freedom, should be reduced to her present extremities, should serve as a warning to intending patriots; for, alas ! she has not found the gratitudo which she expected. " I have spent gold enough to fill this roomaye, and more—to benefit my fellow-beings. They havo proved to bo ingrates. My charity has been abused. Animals are more grateful than my fellows. I now devote my small means to the cause of sufferin"- cats and dogs and dumb creatures." Tne Countess, it may be added, besides devoting much of her large fortune to the cause of Italian freedom, took charge of one of the hospitals during the war, and when in charge of the ambulance was twice wounded. Her sobriquet was the Italian Nightingale, in allusion not to her powers of singing, but of nursing. In 1870 she was busy again at Versailles nursing the German wounded. "I come of a military family. I shall Btick to my post. At present I am in a state of siege. I am ordered to abate the nuisance, and daily I am subject to a fine of ten shillings a day until Ido so. I keep my doors locked, so that my enemies shall not enter if I cau help it. Will, oh! will the law allow them to come and kill my cats ?" And here there was a flood of tears. The little boys and f irk—wicked urchins !—who deserve to be eveured by wolves like the rogues who mocked at the prophet, cry at her: " Hoh ! hoh ! mother of dogs and cats ! Thou shouldst be burned, thou wicked one! Harbourer of unclean animals, thou shouldst be drowned as a witch !" " Are we living in the Middle Ages ? Will they duok me ? or will the ordeal be by fire ?"
THE STRYCHNINE AT WORK,
An animal smell pervaded the house, but without I did not detect anything unusual, However one might regard the Countess as a next-door neighbour, it is ridiculous to say that her establishment is a nuisance to the whole square. Since the decision of the magistrate on Saturday, poison has made sad havoc among the cats. The Countess burst into tears as she told of the death of her red cat "Ruby," of the tabby Manx "Rosie," of the decease of "Jumbo," of " Bella," and another whose name has escaped me. Post-mortems have revealed tho strychnine. How have they come by their death ? Is it the neighbours ? For, strange to say, after the appeal case,which went against the Countess, poison carried off two of the collection, "Bob" and "Cobby," who are now at rest. "I would not havo sold them for a hundred pounds apiece," sobbed the Countess, crying bitterly. " How can they inflict this agony upon me: My cats are all I have to care for in the whole world. My left-hand neighbour does not complain ; it is the people on my right who are persecuting me. Ask the postmen or the policemen whether my house smells strongly enough to be a nuisance. Why, my windows are always open ; my cats are , never allowed to go out at night, so that there may be no noise. Every morning at daylight I put on my dressing-gown and let them out. As for the smell, why, my windows are open all day long, with a draught of fresh air constantly ventilating the house, and dishes of carbolic powder in every room. Does the law of England say how many cats or how many dogs I shall keep'; No. Why tho pigeons in the square havo damaged my roof, but I have said nothing about it. Then why shouldn't I be allowed to havo my cats in peace 1 There are seventy houses round about me; every house has its cat, I daresay, and those seventy aie actually allowed to do as they li^t at night, whilst my poor pets are put under lock and key to preserve the peace.''
IXVE CATS DEAD IN THE COAt-CELLAR,
The Countess then lead the way down the steps on to the kitchen floor, down a passage which took us to the area. " Here are my dead pets," she cried, as she pulled open the door of the coal-cellar. On tho top of an empty hamper lay two fine black-and-white cats, rigid with the colds of a violent death. These were lifted np, and beneath the hamper were three more fine cats, also dead, apparently from strychnine. VVith careful step I then went into the strip of garden, a Httlo wilderness with one or two trees, the grass long and uncared for and the beds choked up with weeds, low party walls separating it from the Gardens on each side. Tho dog?, bright, cheery follows, barked a welcome, and one or two cats appeared and followed us with every mark of affection. "All 1" said tho Countess with a shriek, "there is something wrong with this poor cat," lifting it tip, smelling its mouth, and carrying it indoors. Then wo wont iuto the dark kitchen, in which it is easy to picture tbo Countoss, brooding over the ingratitude of the mon and women whom sho had befriended, and .thinking of tho treasure that has been thrown so recklessly and so fruitlessly away, seated on a broken-backed chair, with a few embers burning in the grate, aud a halfpenny candle stuck in the neck of a bottle. "Let us go upstairs," said the Countess; and, mounting the : narrow bave steps, followed by half-a-dozen 'tSaIS, wo entered a'icSom overlooking the square, one window being open, the other closed, with the shutters fastened nijroiss. This room is the old nursery. An old sideboard Btood in the middle, on which was a waste-paper basket filled with litter, where reclined a big grey cat. A small, low -'. chair, such as passengers use at sea, covered | with a bit of sheepskin, stood by the open Beiore the fireplace were the *h cradles ranged round. On a torn and H battered sofa were half a dozen little baskets ■pgtjbbe reception of the mothers and their _■___&: '
offspring. Tho room, like tho othors in the houso, had n, poverty-stricken mr, being altogether given up to the animals. Clo_o against the walls were jugaand pails of water, plates full of the red disinfectant powder, dirty glasses, and an old basket or two.
THF. OATS COME TO THE COCSTESS.
" I have now only live of my own loft. I have eight or ten "stray ones, three dogs, and a few puppies. Uo not think that Igo to look for them. No, no. They come to me. Thero is a poor little kitten who came mewing to my door lost night. I must eive it shelter. Sometimes I have more, sometimes less. It is all the same to me. Letters often come asking me to take charge of a cat whose mistress is going to India, or to some far-off country. "Will you take my cat, Countess, and care for it !' they write. I take it, of course, and when my house gets too full I try to provide homes elsewhere for tho poor creature?. Look at Bijou," stroking a protty cat sitting beside me purring most contentedly. "lie was brought to me a few weeks ago by a poor girl, a seamstress, whoso garret full of furniture had been sold for a debt. She came to me sobbing as if her heart would break, and beseeched mc to take the poor fellow. Bijou came, and you ask about the existence of affection in a cat. Why for many hours he never moved from one po. ition. and refused all food. At last ho settled down, but the other day his mistress came here, and the cat made a great spring to her lap, kissing her face, and evincing tho greatest joy at her appearance. Somo day sho will take him away again, poor girl ! There is a cat which a lady who has sailed for India sent to me. I had to pay three shillings for its carriage from Brighton," added the Countess with an odd smile.
"When astiay cat first joins the circle, starving and wretched, 1 put her down in the middle of tho room beforo a basin of milk or soup. The others, who have probably gone through the same experience and know quite well how the case Is, watch their new comrade from a distance, eyeing her with vigilance taking hor food. One by one they approach nearer, looking at mo and then at the cat. Gradually they form a circle, and sitting each on her haunches, they regard the new-comer with complacency, never "thinking of helping themselves." "Cats," mused"tho Countess, sadly, "have a preseienco of coming death. _Uy dear ones who havo just gono hovered round mo for the last wcok closer than over, clinging bo my skirts, and looking up nt me with forbodings of evil omen in their eyes. I watched them with all tho greater care and tenderness. But I have always noticed this in the cats. Ruby gave two great bounds and jumped to my bosom. She died there, and her last look said, ' Mother, they have poisoned me.'"
THE HABITS Or THK CATS,
" I never allow anyone to feed my cats but myself; no other hand touches their food. They have bread and milk at times, but I find that soup with biscuit is the best diet. I take a sheep's head, and make a good stock. I then break the biscuit up into it. The food costs me about a penny a day. You see how beautifully clean my cats are; that Is by the constant use of the brush. It is most cruel to wash a cat, which abhors water. The greatest insult you con offer to a cat is to throw water at it. If a strange cat comes into a house, and you wish to get rid of it, do not drive it away with a stone or a stiok ; throw a glas3 of water over it. You will then see the cat retreat indignantly, and with a haughty indifference to the conFequences of a retreat, as much as to say, ' You dare to throw water at me. I leave you. I shake the dust of your house from my paws. Nevermore shall you see me.' It is like pork to a Jew. Of all cats the tortoise-shell is tho most intelligent. They aro almost human. Prince Krapotkin's experiments, of which I read the other day, I have repeatedly tried myself. I have seen cats look into the minor, paw it gently, walk right round it, over and over again, puzzled, and eventually beat a retreat, completely at a loss to understand the phenomenon. Now that we are discussing the cat, it is worth noticing that during the whole of one year, with all my cats of both sexes, I have only had one litter of kittens, of which the father and mother have been my own cats. They prefer fresh faces— like human beings." The Countess at this moment rose from her chair and called in a soft voice for some of her familiars. They came in from every corner. Upstairs I heard the patter of feet, as they had evidently jumped up from their sleep, and then tho sound of their footsteps coming down thesteps. "la the instinct of locality very strong in the eat t Do the cats that are placed in your charge never find thoir way back to their former homes '!" No. I find that cats that have been petted very much and have never been allowed to roam soon settle down." " Surely in your large family it is a little difficult to preserve order"—a question suggested by a very severe lick in tho face administered by a sedate-looking black-and-white cat to a too playful kitten. '' I call tho black-and-white there the Policeman. Ho settles all quarrels. He is exclusive in his friendships, and keeps order in my house. He is my oldest friend, and is rewarded with an odd mixture of fear and respect." "If I had seventy cats in my house, do you think that they would have the same dispositions?" "No. Cats are as human beings,. One is sulky, another affectionate, one is spiteful, another combative, one sentimental, another may have a sweet disposition, be soft and gentle, ono may be forid of wandering, another prefers the fireside. When a strange cat comes'into the Jiouse it shows much concern ns to its surroundings. It refuses food perhaps, and sits on a box or a chair for hours together, looking intently at me as I sit here. 'Who aro you ?' ' Aro you going to be kind to me !' ' Why do you go out of your way to show me all this kindness ?' That is what tho strange cat says to me. Having made up its mind quite suddenly that I am its friend, she maKes a great jump at me, and clings to me, purring and caressing mo."
CRUELTY TO ANIMALS,
"Countess, haveyou taughtyourdoctrine of kindness to your cats ? Suppose Bijou there spied a mouse, would she sit contentedly then on the'box?" "No, alas! Bijou and Bob, Jumbo and Bella, soft and gentle as they are, are but eats. When the mellennium comes then they will play with a mouse no longer. But can you explain the horrible cowardice which shall make a man able to illuse an animal. Now I feed the sparrows In the square with a few handfuls of crumbs, but when they come fluttering to me—for they have learned to know me well—why the boys, urged on by bribes, or by their own innate cruelty, stone them to death. Only the other day they killed one before my eyes with a catapult; another I rescued, and gave the poor bruised thing a shelter. I put it in the sun, and in two or three hours it revived and took wing. When I hear a woman say, ' Oh ! I hate cats,' I look upon her with contempt. The heart of a woman should be open to the sufferings of animals and all dumb things A woman who is cruel to an animal would be cruel to a child. A hardhearted woman is an error of nature. Why, I could tell you of many great men and women who have cherished the cat. Mahommed himself when his eat fell asleep on his sleeve, it being time to srn to prayers at the mosque, rather than disturb the slumbers of the cat, cut off his sleeve. Richelieu had his portrait painted with cats in hi:_ arm ; then take Chateaubriand, George Sand, or Victor Hugo. The Princess of Wales once said at a meeting of tho Society for the Protection of Animals : ' If I have saved one cat from misery, I shall feel that I have done something.' What a charming answer 1" But all animals are fond of the Countess. She has oven cherished spiders more for the delicate beauty of their workmanship than for themselves. "I used to bring them to me by a peculiar low hiss."
A LETTER OF SYMPATHY,
Letters of sympathy came pouring in upon this unfortunate lady. Some are genuiue enough. Others may be judged of by what follows :—
"My lady,— lam sorry for the magistrate's decision against you on Saturday, and in case you should wish to find sympathy with the human race, instead of the feline," &c.
Certainly neat. The writer then goes on to tell a sad enough story, and winds up by proposing that the Countess shall purchase tlio pawn-tickels for what follows :— " Girls' button boots (nines), 35.; flannel petticoat-, 4s. Gd,; black overcoat, 125.; light trousers, Gs. ; half-dozen table knives, G.°; half-dozen chctse knives, ss. j best plato half-dozen table forks, 7s. ; ditto halfdozen desert, Gs.; ivory carver and fork, 75.; ditto poultry ditto, 65.; silver watch, 15s. , metal ditto, 7 ; " &C. There is a touch of humour in tho postcript, "All warranted good as new and carriage paid. Cash witk qrder, as they have to be redeemed from the pawnbrokers' —suitable for presents (sic)." "Self and wife are members of tho Church of England " damns the fellow at once.
Then 1 bade tho Countess good-bye, thinking of some of tho grim stories which she had poured out, half sadly, half fiercely, o! women who had lain in amid those sad surroundings, of families she had succoured within those bare walls ; and but over these it is best to draw the veil of oblivion Her whole life affords another proof of the old gayii.frthat truth is stranger than fiction! So ends the story of the Countess and her cats,
I met tho cat's-meat, man with his armful of flowers on thr; door .-trp. Tho door closed u;sou him, but 1 h<wd tho t'.it. chorussir'g a devouring welcome. Some day they may devour the Countess. There may bo no gratitude either in man or beast. It would be a stiblimo ending.
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Auckland Star, Volume XXVI, Issue 4498, 18 October 1884, Page 6
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3,514The Countess and Her Cats. Auckland Star, Volume XXVI, Issue 4498, 18 October 1884, Page 6
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