Part 3
The rat is dangerously ferocious when aroused, and is capable of being wrought up to a pitch of white heat fury. If he should be caught, his tail cut, his hair burnt, or if he should be wounded in any other way, but not sufficiently to weaken his system or momentary capacity, and he is then let loose, he will, through sheer madness and pure "cussedness," hunt up, fight, and overpower his brethren individually, or else put them to flight in a body, without much ado. In fact, when he is worked up to this state, he wouldn't hesitate for a moment to attack an entire army of rats, or of other far bigger and more terrible objects. In many cases like this, rats have often obligingly rid premises of their own kind. If the tortured or maimed rat is in a weak condition afterwards, he will be promptly overpowered by the other members of the rat community upon general principles.
We are often regaled in the newspapers with "brutally frank" accounts of people leaving their babies alone at home, and, upon returning, finding them frightfully lacerated by rats, slowly and reluctantly escaping from the scene. In like manner, they have become bold enough to attack solitary invalids in houses, who had work enough to defend themselves from, and to drive off, these ferocious little beasts, driven on by hunger like the true wolves of the wilderness.
Living or dead, man is bound to furnish food for the rat; and in church-yards, where, ghoul-like, they choose the night as their time of appearing, they demolish the skeletons, littering the ground with remnants of the white, shining bones.
VIII.--RATS IN BREWERIES, SLAUGHTER-HOUSES, MARKETS, STABLES, AND BARN-YARDS.
The writer, in the course of his many rat-hunting expeditions, has had occasion to observe the rats in the lower cellars of many large New York breweries, where beer was about all they could get to live on. The sage old rodents, I observed, that had become accustomed to this diet--and had noted scientifically its queer effects in large doses on the rat system--indulged in a moderate way, and became aged, good-natured, and fat, like some jovial, bald-headed old merchant of the human type. The young rats, however, that had been recruited from the neighboring houses, would proceed immediately to paint a limited part of the town quite crimson with much hilariousness and quantities of beer, after which they could be killed or caught without much bother, lying around through the passage-ways in a beastly intoxicated state. Here they lay, squealing faintly, and without concern, on their backs. We may find in this, if we care to look for it, a really valuable temperance lesson; for, when the rodents imbibed with moderation, they were of a strong and healthy race, and greatly looked up to in the gnawing community; but, when they quaffed too heavily, they became poets, and cared not for the affairs of this small earth, whereupon they were ignobly killed with a club by some base son of man. In slaughter-houses, they become so unconscious after having gorged themselves with a hearty dinner of hot blood and other warm offal, that hundreds of them could be picked up and massacred with but very faint resistance on the otherwise cautious rat's part.
In old markets, rats yet do valuable service as sanitary inspectors, by demolishing the amount of refuse and garbage; but in other channels they are the very demons of destruction. They are especially fond of cheese; and in the cheese-dealers' stalls they go at their work of procuring this in a highly artistic way. They drill holes through the flooring beneath the largest cheeses, and then work their way up and eat into them, consuming pounds upon pounds in a single night. The men sometimes find a large cheese with the interior scooped entirely out, leaving the rind, in hollow mockery, simply an empty, worthless shell. In the butchers' shops, the rats are connoisseurs in the quality of meat, always seeking out the primest portions of the beef in preference to any others.
Around barn-yards they destroy the grain, oats, and every species of fowl, from the smallest to the largest specimen. In going at their work of destruction, they spring upon the neck of the victims, and pierce and bite it through with their teeth. They then suck the blood first, or else eat into the flesh as they would into a cheese, often contenting themselves with the blood and leaving the carcass. In stables the harness and the axle grease, even, suffice to make a square meal for them in default of better fodder; they also make the horses frantic by fiendishly gnawing at their hoofs.
IX.--RATS AS WINE DRINKERS.
In a neat and cleverly written little book on Spain, it is observed that "in the wine cellars the bungs in the heads of the butts containing sweet wines had little square pieces of tin nailed over them. This was to protect them from the rats who otherwise get upon the edge of the butt, and lick the sweet wine which oozes through, then begin to nibble the bung, and go on, if they are let alone, till out rushes the wine in a stream." The effects of the rats' ingenuity seems to bear rather a kind intention toward his two-legged brother, described in the following: "This happened not long ago to a large _tonel_ of the finest Pedro Jimenez, which, was stored with others in the ground-floor of a house, the owner of which was away in Seville, with the key, which he would trust to no one, in his pocket. One morning out came the bung, long nibbled by rats, and, about three hundred gallons of the wine ran out into the gutter. It was a queer sight, people rushing to dip it up with any vessel that came to hand, some of them presently using mops, and the small boys, who had found it was sweet, and lapped up as much as they could get at, lying around the street in various stages of intoxication," after the manner of our frisky friends, the joyous rats of the brewery cellars.
X.--DESTRUCTIVENESS.
The rat's bite, and especially that of old rats, is very poisonous, and its teeth are finely adapted for severe, quick, sharp, and deep cutting. It forms an urgent natural necessity for them, owing to the peculiar structure and growth of their teeth, to keep them incessantly working. The idea never comes to the rats of a possible breaking off of their tusks in attacking such flexible objects as bricks or lead, and the writer has seen cases in which the rats cheerfully went to work gnawing off corners of bricks and granite, in a persistent manner, so that they could make an opening large enough for their admission into a house. Nothing is exempt from their merciless teeth. They mutilate the woodwork on the valuable drawing-room chair just as readily as they would the dingiest, most plebeian sort of washtub, and they make sad havoc of upholstery of all kinds. They seem to have an especially lasting grudge against the transmission of knowledge, for books are gnawed and mutilated by them in immense quantities. They gnaw paper, from legal documents of the highest value (and many an important writing has been hopelessly destroyed by their agency), to the most worthless treatise on "Four-Fingered Mike; or, The Terror of Hoboken." Our clothing, shoes, hat-gear, etc., is turned out by the rats in a pitifully dilapidated condition. They also eat into lead pipes for the purpose of obtaining water, which it is hard for them to do without, although we have found that they can be without food for a much greater length of time. When the rats are pressed for drink on board ship, they lay low in the day-time, but in the evening they stealthily come out on the deck from the hold, in a long row, single file, in order to sip the moisture from the rigging.
By examining the Fire Marshal's Report of New York City from 1868 to 1882, we learn that rats have been the cause of 79 fires during 12 years, making an average of five fires a year. This is on account of the rats' strong propensity for nibbling matches. In the same report is a warning against the loose and careless manner in which matches are left in pantries and closets infested by rats and mice with a fondness for this kind of diet. The great attraction for the rodents in the matches is the phosphorus, which these useful articles contain in abundance, and which the rats are able to scent out from a great distance.
XI.--RATS AS FOOD.
If you were lunching on something similar in taste to roast partridge, and some one told you, after you had finished, that it was only domestic house rat, your interior machinery would probably be disarranged--to such an extent is the bare mention of the word rat repugnant to our senses and stomachs.
In the course of an experiment, the writer has cooked and boiled rats, and has found that their meat is of a very tender quality, and of a white, inviting appearance, withal, although he never went the length of partaking of it. Our objection to the rat's serving as food is too deeply rooted and profound to be removed, although there are a great many animals whose flesh forms our staple food that have habits much dirtier, and who do not nearly live upon as cleanly a diet (and this is a broad statement) as our despised house rat. From this eulogium we gently but firmly exclude the rat gentry of the sewers. We must give the Chinese credit for having overcome the effete European prejudice against the rat as food. Seemingly, it is the most highly prized dish that the sons of leprosy have in their bill of fare. The crews of the American and English vessels lying in Canton harbor used to amuse themselves greatly in catching a rat, and then holding the kicking animal by the tail so that the Celestials in the junks alongside could get a good view of it. The Mongolians would then get very much excited, utter exclamations of a gobbling, clucking sound, and as soon as the spluttering, frightened rat was flung from the ship an uproarious scramble followed, that made them look like so many monkeys quarreling over a cocoanut.
A writer tell us, in a well-written magazine article, that he has lived fifteen years in China, and has had "experience at public banquets, social dinners, and ordinary meals, in company with all classes of people, but was exceedingly surprised at never having seen cat, dog, or rat served up in any form whatsoever." We are sorry the gentleman neglects to state _whether he'd know the difference_. The odds are twenty to one that he wouldn't; because, as he knows himself, the Chinese are excellent cooks, and can prepare a good meal from what in other countries would be thought offal. He makes the admission, however, that "there are some peculiar people in China, as well as elsewhere--credulous and superstitious--some of whom believe that the flesh of dogs, cats, and rats, possesses medicinal properties. For instance, some silly women believe that the flesh of rats restores the hair; some believe that dog meat and cat meat renews the blood, and quacks often prescribe it. What the Chinese really do eat does not vary much from that found on American tables; but there are certain dishes not on our programmes that are considered delicacies by everybody--such as edible bird's-nests and sharks' fins." To this we can add conscientiously, and upon weighty private authority--fried split rat, stewed dog, and curried cat with rice. In this place it would be appropriate of us to say something of the peculiarities of Chinese food--of the way the dogs and cats are carefully bred for the palates of the Chinese epicures; how these former animals are invitingly exposed for sale in the marketplaces; and we would willingly describe the methods of the dog and cat breeders, and the manner of curing and cooking the rats--but want of space forbids. We will merely state that there are many cases in which rats were eaten much nearer home than China; but, as the persons undertaking the experiment were slowly starving to death, and would have quickly eaten each other rather than accept the jolly alternative of dying by hunger, these instances are not of a remarkable nature, and are consequently unworthy of note in the present annals.
XII.--RAT NESTS.
Rats are impartial in their building sites--they have contentedly built their nests in the wretched and filthy peasant's hovel and in the most palatial and luxurious residences of kings, and a human habitation must indeed be in the extreme of squalor, dirt and decay where they are not found sprawling. Shakespeare pithily expresses this in the "Tempest:"
"In few they hurried us aboard a bark, Bore us some leagues to sea, where they prepar'd A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd, Nor tackle, sail nor mast--_the very rats_ Instinctively had quit it."
The rat living in a house prefers warm, soft quarters, and invariably gets within comfortable distances of stoves, ranges, heaters, steam-pipes, etc. This is a very dangerous habit, because his nest is always constructed of inflammable materials. At times he also lugs matches into it, and then if the steam-pipes should become overheated, the matches blaze up and spread the flames. We have read in the newspapers of a great many fires afterwards found to have been caused in this way. The rat's nest is made of black and colored silk, of linen, woolen and cotton materials, bits of canvas, dirty rags, fur, silk stockings, and antique lace of much value jumbled together with string and crumpled paper. In one instance we knew of a rat to make use of a building material more out of the ordinary run than these, as it consisted simply of fifteen hundred dollars in greenbacks that had been put under the carpet of a room for safe keeping, and which was afterwards found in mutilated fragments, thatched together, forming this queer old mercenary rat's abode. The rat uses his nest too as a storehouse, and here he lays by quantities of edibles for a rainy day. The writer came across a nest, once upon a time, the sole building materials of which were those undergarments, both masculine and feminine, fashioned so slenderly, but which we dare not mention. This nest contained a peck or so of beans, though in the house where it was built beans had not been stored nor used, the writer found out, for at least three months. Out of doors or in fields the rats' nests are built of hay, leaves, shavings, and wool. The rat is, besides his other praiseworthy qualities, an inveterate old thief, and in decorating his dwelling picturesquely he becomes quite lavish, as gold rings, diamonds, jewels of every value, and gold and silver watches, that had been missed, were found in rat nests. Here they were generally discovered set off with much taste by a piece of salt bag. In one rat's nest I found a set of false teeth in perfect condition. The rat could not have wanted to use them himself, because they were several sizes too big for him. He probably wanted them for a tool-box or jewel-case or some other equally useful object. The writer remembers reading in some odd book of a good-natured person who had discovered a family of young rats in a piano that stood in a room for some time unfrequented. They had made themselves so much at home in the interior of the instrument that the owner was unwilling to disturb them by playing upon it. The female rat probably wanted to get her young to some safe place away from her liege lord, and had succeeded in gnawing up through the leg of the piano. She had brought with her, in which to build a nest, a dirty striped stocking big enough to have belonged to some distinguished Dime Museum fat lady.
XIII.--THE RAT'S MUSICAL TALENTS AND EYESIGHT.
Rats love sweet, soft, melodious tones, and a great many experiments have been made in taming rats thereby, but only with indifferent success upon the sharp-witted rodents, in spite of all the pretty stories to the contrary in the reading-books. So high is the rat's musical understanding rated, that there is a proverb among the people that rats immediately disappear from the house as soon as a young lady begins taking lessons on the piano. A mouth-harmonica seems to be the rat's favorite musical instrument, and its gentle strains exert the most power over him, far more than the tones of any other instrument. If the music be soft, mild, and pathetic, the rat will listen and come very near, for he is a very susceptible sort of beast, and, if closely observed, tears of sorrow, or of sad and tender reminiscence, will be seen coursing slowly down his cheeks. But if, on the contrary, the music be harsh, shrill, and discordant, such as would most likely be ground out by beginners, or if it proceed from a brass instrument, or drum, or if it be occasioned by a shotgun report, or explosion, it may drive the impressionable animals from places where they had been used to frequent. If, however, one is unsuccessful in trying to scare off the rats by noise at the first inning, a repetition will be of no avail.
The rat will take up his nest in all and any out-of-the way places, as he shuns the light and lives wholly in the dark and gloom. This is the cause of his poor sight; he can hardly see at all in the daytime, and in the night a little better. If you should meet with a rat by day, looking square in your face, depend upon it he isn't able to see you at all, in spite of the pretty gleam in his black eyes. His minutely acute ears, however, do him good service instead of eyes, so that he has very little occasion to miss the latter at all.
The rat is generally very timid, and extremely nervous, the slightest disturbance repelling him and making him shrink into obscurity and shadow. Yet it is his great peculiarity that he can adapt himself to any extremity of climate or description of place; he is found making himself at home in hotels, factories, public gardens, and other haunts of loud and constant noise, bustle, and confusion.
XIV.--RATS AS MORALISTS.
The Lord in making the rats is imputed to have done so to have them serve as scavengers for his wandering, wasteful tribes of children. But in our own day, as the majority of us do not wander, nor have wandered continually for the last two or three thousand years or so, and have slapped up many supposedly permanent villages like London, New York, or Paris, the restless, ambitious rat took into his head not to limit himself to such dirty kind of work exclusively. He then formed the resolution, and further carried out the purposes of his creator by taking upon himself the philosophic office of keeping man's pride in check. This he did by literally chipping a large proportion of the gilt off man's earthy grandeur, and by destroying his works and belongings at every possible opportunity, with right hearty good-will and much perseverance. "Therefore," says a writer, "whatever man does, rat always takes a share in the proceedings. Whether it be building a ship, erecting a church, digging a grave, plowing a field, storing a pantry, taking a journey, or planting a distant colony, rat is sure to have something to do in the matter; man and his gear can no more get transplanted from place to place without him, than without the ghost in the wagon that 'flitted too'."
XV.--RATS IN THE GOOD OLD DAYS, AND THE MODERN RAT SUPERSTITIONS.
In the merry days of old, rats were regarded as undisputed signs of witchcraft, and even scholars acknowledged this--at least they were compelled to, by the help of a blazing pile of faggots, or similar mild means known only to the good old times. What caused this belief among the people was, that an animal appearing to them so small should be the cause of such intense and continual annoyance to them. There was no barrier through which the rat could not effect its way to get at a certain object, thanks to its wonderful powers of gnawing. It was so omnivorous, ferocious, and destructive, that the people endowed the rat with superhuman qualities, and regarded it as a true child of the Devil, put upon this earth to be always pestering them. In regard to the rat's superhuman qualities, it appears to have certainly displayed more reason and acuteness, fighting in the daily battle of life, than any one of these thick-skulled humans could lay claim to. It was looked on with a great and most unreasonable aversion and loathing, born of superstition and fear, and which we find vehemently expressed in all the ancient books on the subject. This feeling, we cannot help believing, is not dead yet, according to the astounding anecdotes brought forth and widely copied in a great many of our American newspapers. The facts and data given in these learned articles about the rat's size, weight, and habits, in general, would make his hair stand on end with horror if he were to read them. As a matter of fact, the ordinary brown rat, which we find everywhere near man, is a pretty black-eyed, softly robed, and delicately constructed little animal; and although his fur may be plainly colored, like the plumage of the sparrow amongst birds, yet it is of the finest texture, and, when possible, is always kept scrupulously clean. In solitary captivity he is continually sitting on his haunches, cleaning his fur like a cat; and the writer has found, by actual experiment, the weight of twelve full-grown, well-fed New York city rats to amount to exactly twelve and a half pounds.
Formerly, in European countries, there was a general belief in the existence of strange and mysterious relations between this great slimy monster and the high-priests of witchcraft and sorcery. It was thought that this was the animal best adapted to carry out the diabolical plots of his Satanic majesty. In one part of Norway, the peasants used devoutly to hold a fast day once a year, trusting thereby to get rid of the pests of rats and mice. They had a Latin exorcism which they used on these occasions, beginning with the words, "Exerciso nos pestiferos, vermes mures," etc. Anything a rat left its trace upon was an omen of ill to the owner; and when by any chance a rat was ever seen on a cow's back the poor animal was doomed to pine slowly to death in consequence. In Ireland it was believed that premises could be rid of rats by reciting a rhyme over their holes, which was commonly called "rhyming rats to death."
XVI.--REVIEW OF THE RAT, AND CONCLUSION.
But since these times the people have succeeded in getting rid of a great quantity of superstition attached to the subject. It has also been learned gradually that the actions of the rat are prompted much more by natural than by diabolical instinct. However timorous and innocent looking we have found the rat to be upon impartial observation, yet his is a case of wolf in sheep's clothing, for he is the one of the whole brute creation that does the most undermining damage in every way to the homes, workshops, counting-rooms, store-houses and cultivated fields and acres of man. The rat is also at times his very ferocious personal enemy. The rat's code of morals will be found rather deficient, as we have tried to explain in the preceding rambling remarks. In fact, there are condensed in this small animal all the vices of the animal world. We have shown him in the pleasant light of a cannibal briefly making an end of all family ties by transferring his relatives down his stomach. We have traced a faint outline of his great food greediness and his intemperance in strong drink, which is pretty near up to the human standard. We have pictured his strong liking for the hot blood of man and his utterly lacking an organ of veneration, digging up man's bones from their final resting-place to have them serve as food.