Part 21

How should human insight penetrate this underworld of the intellect? All things definite there were transmigrations of his own experiences under the stress of heredity. What was emotional, unformed, and yet operative, was the bequest of a wild and free ancestry that sent down their tendencies and traits, gave him his organization, and, with a certainty as inevitable as death, stamped everything that he could think or feel with their “own form and impress.” His ideas were reproductions; his emotions rose into consciousness from unknown depths. The latter set him upon the verge of what his predecessors realized, vaguely revealed their past, prompted those unrecognizable half-memories that are born with every being, prepared him for possibilities from which captivity cut him off, stirred his heart, and made life and the earth all that they were or could be to him.

Varying phases of mind as outwardly evinced, manifested themselves clearly in Gato’s behavior and in his changes of temper. Those serene meditations which had sway during beautiful days, and in the calm of tropical nights, bore little likeness to states of tension that sometimes possessed him when the storms of the rainy season set in. If an African lion is to be seen in his glory, he must be looked at by the lightning’s glare. It is amid tempest and gloom that the full proportions of his nature come forth. So with this lion of another world. Many a time in the course of those nightly interviews which have been referred to, he roused himself from an intense contemplation of his companion, disturbed by thunder and the tumult without. Then while the wind blew unequally, roared through swaying branches, or mourned around the walls that shut him in, he quickened under the influence of over-tones in nature which human beings cannot hear. Storm and darkness wrought upon him as they will not do upon man. Beyond what was visible or audible, there was something that came from within himself; something that wove “the waste fantasies” of his dreams together, and gave character and purpose to ideation. He showed it in profoundly suggestive pantomime. But what “air-drawn” shapes were followed with those long, swift, soft yet heavy steps, on what his eyes were fixed, what feelings and fancies engrossed and transfigured him, gave that fierce energy, and led him in their train, are unknowable. They had no voice, but only with mute motions pointed backward to a past in which humanity shared no part, and which it cannot explore.

Those who have reared beasts of prey, must, it is probable, read works that describe the expression of their emotions with a certain dissatisfaction. Not for the reason that their authors lacked power, the art of observation, or scientific attainments, but merely because they themselves have seen and felt the influence of so much that is too evasive for definite detail. The grander passions may be painted; in virtue of the unstable equilibrium of nervous elements, and that comparatively imperfect system of connections existing between the centres, they are always explosive. But a world of complex, kaleidoscopic views interpose between fury and tranquility. Feeling cannot be continually intense, nor need it necessarily remain unexpressed because it is not violent. Only those emotions which are for the time absorbing have an unmistakable physiognomy, and these both brutes and higher beings feel but rarely. In attempting anything more than a suggestion of the impression produced by current feeling, the observer is liable to become constructive; to picture himself instead of the model, or to lose the subject in the midst of anatomical, physiological, and psychological details.

Unprovoked dislike, antipathy, permanent and constant in special directions, together with antithetical feelings, which are also said to be spontaneous, Gato possessed in abundance. He gave up trying to kill the Apostle John, but liked him no better than did those heathens who boiled the saint in oil. Whether on account of an animosity he had towards all men, or because in his own fashion he became superstitious about the statue, this much is certain, that if dragged up to it, he took offence. On the other hand, Gato made friends with a horse. Every morning when his groom let him out, Said trotted to the rear of the house, put his head over the half-door looking into the court-yard, and asked for a little wine and sugar with a gentle whinny. Sometimes Gato was chained to one of the buttresses of a tamarind and saw him. Often Said walked in on the stone floor and found him loose, as was customary while his guardian remained at home. At first, when actually confronted, the Arab showed a good deal of uneasiness. But the puma was then only half-grown, and upon being reassured, the horse concluded that it was all right, and paid no further attention to him. So this singular compact of neutrality was begun. On Said’s part, it never became anything else. He suffered Gato when a mature and very large animal to walk around him, without any special recognition of his presence, and that was all. On the other hand, the latter respected, or admired, or had some kind of a friendly feeling towards the horse.

In order that he might not remain in that benighted state in which his forefathers lived among wretched Olmecs, Chichemecs, and Otomies whom the Aztecs captured to sacrifice to their war god, it was deemed proper to instruct him in the use and effects of firearms. He approved of cartridges as playthings, and watched them put into the cylinder, but did not think for some time that they were the things that went off and made a noise and flash. When he saw a ball strike, he used to leap at the scar and look for fragments scattered by the shot. Finally, by dint of seeing ammunition exploded, and snuffing empty arms, Gato got some inkling that there was a connection between a pistol he saw charged, and certain effects. Still it is very doubtful whether in his opinion a loaded revolver was dangerous, until experience convinced him that it would kill. In other words, he was taught that which unreclaimed wild beasts find out for themselves everywhere on the face of the earth.

What finished his education in this way, was an incident that very nearly proved disastrous to himself. One summer morning while he was fastened in the court-yard, and his guardian sat reading in his sala, a large rabid dog dashed into the room from the street, and without noticing the motionless figure in a chair, rushed out by an opposite door towards the puma, who lay under a tree. Instant aid was necessary to prevent the latter from being bitten; for although at that time he would have torn the dog to pieces, as he had already done in the case of two or three others, this would not have saved him. He witnessed the whole affair; saw the revolver, the aim and flash, heard the report, beheld the dog fall, struggle a moment, and die. Afterwards its body was dragged nearer to him, so he could feel assured that life was gone. Then for the first time did a realizing sense of the potency of this instrument enter into his mind. Subsequent to this occurrence, it was for a while only necessary to wear a pistol to keep Gato at a distance. Once in an unlucky hour his guardian told a servant to aim one at him by way of experiment, and nothing but the promptest and most determined interference saved the man. Charles Darwin (“Expression of the Emotions,” etc.) says that the physiognomy of fear among cats is difficult to describe because it passes so quickly into that of rage. In this case the transition was instantaneous, and a fine fury it was.

The blare of cavalry trumpets, the roll of drums, and clang of bells, attracted Gato’s attention and made him restless, but he was not “moved by concourse of sweet sounds.” They possessed no meaning, and did not cause him to think or feel. To sing to him was a waste of time, and he looked upon a guitar as something that made an insignificant noise. If the strings were roughly and unexpectedly vibrated, the effect resembled any other sudden interruption of meditation or slumber. He was startled, and apprehension instantly took the form of anger, and then passed quickly when he saw what had disturbed his repose. All physiologists will agree with Spencer that “the existing quantity of nerve force liberated at any moment which produces in some inscrutible way the state we call feeling, _must_ expend itself in some direction, _must_ generate an equivalent manifestation of force somewhere.” The feeling excited, whatever it may be, will flow in accustomed channels, and manifest itself in what Darwin describes as “habitually associated movements.” This law, and that governing antithetical manifestations, is founded in the physical and mental organization of all creatures, and its expressions vary with the differences obtaining among those of different kinds.

Gato and the members of every species belonging to his family are primarily avatars of force. They inherit as predominant traits those feelings and faculties, those physical specializations and particular aptitudes, which tend to make violence successful. When any nervous shock let loose his energy, it flowed from the centres where it was stored through the most permeable tracts; those which had been most frequently traversed in the history of the individual and his race; and as this process was necessarily accompanied by corresponding movements, when the strings of a guitar aroused him suddenly, Gato involuntarily assumed the attitudes and exhibited the temper of an excited beast of prey. If startled, teased, or menaced, if impatient, angry, or even pleased, however different may have been the passing feeling, however variously it was expressed, his character always overshadowed him, and gave an air to every outward act; not always in those set forms which Camper, Le Brun, Bell, and Darwin set forth, but unmistakably, and, of course, by the same means through which the typical representations of passion take place.

That sedateness and inertia which, in _Felidæ_ especially, soon supervene upon the restlessness of kittenhood, showed themselves in Gato at an earlier period than usual. This was in a great degree attributable to his rapid and enormous growth. The energy which under ordinary physiological conditions would have remained free to manifest itself in movement, was expended in building his frame.

Many times on looking up and meeting Gato’s gaze as he lay upon a rug contemplating his friend, the expression of those fiery eyes suggested stories of fascination--Arab legends, African and Hindu superstitions about the mesmeric power possessed by tigers and lions. A good deal has been written on this subject which is not much to the purpose. But no one has shown, or can show, that this influence is impossible, or, as it suggested itself to the author in the course of some experiments upon his puma, that susceptible subjects might not, as in cases reported by Charcot and others, hypnotize themselves. Having no way of getting at the relations subsisting between the centres of his brain with any certainty, it occurred to his guardian that a physiological approximation to their state might be made by means of this kind of an impression, and that it would reveal, to a certain extent at least, what is called by French writers the “solidarity” of that organ. The difficulty lay in the first necessary step, according to Heidenhain; namely, in arresting attention. Czermak’s experiments at Leipzig were made upon creatures of a very different character from Gato. By all accounts, hypnotism is impossible except when attentiveness approaches to a wrapped degree of fixedness. The author tried to act upon his puma, but in vain. A bright object placed above him in front might or might not excite special curiosity. If his keeper held it, he looked at him, and probably wondered what new deviltry he was after then.

Often he grew uneasy, or disgusted perhaps, got up, and lay down with his head averted, or closed his lids. Sometimes he walked away, pretending not to notice his companion, though keenly observant of what he was doing all the while. But this eye-to-eye interview was quite as likely to bring the animal close, make him rub against his comrade, or present his head to be stroked. Whatever he did, however, was done of his own accord, and had no reference to the performances of his associate, or to the willpower exerted and wasted on such occasions.

It was easy to see when Gato was apathetic, and plain enough when he was intoxicated with what Willis and the old anatomists called “animal spirits.” In the mean between these extremes lay the mystery. Who was to decide when the panther patted you gently with his sheathed paw, or put his head before the book, whether these solicitations to take notice of him had their root in a need for sympathy, or were signs of a desire to enjoy some pleasant sensation, such as being scratched or played with? One could only guess at this from the clue given by a knowledge of his character.

Much uncertainty exists with regard to the degree in which his æsthetic sense was developed. Whoever has shown pictures to children and savages, knows the great uncertainty attending their recognition of things which are familiar to them. The puma liked glaring colors and bright objects, yet while capable of identifying a large statue, the preference he exhibited for certain paintings depended most probably on their florid style. If his guardian read a work illustrated with engravings while he looked over his shoulder, they made no perceptible impression upon him. He admired gorgeous parrots that cursed him, and for a long time made hostile demonstrations towards a raven who was too wise not to let him alone. Some of the great hunters have thought that those strong predilections exhibited by tigers for certain beautiful localities which otherwise had nothing to recommend them to the choice of such inmates, were evidence of appreciation upon their part of this advantage.

That conclusion is, however, a very uncertain one, and most likely comes under the head of those observations that Czermak designates as “events viewed unequally”; that is to say, the facts are true, but the inference unwarranted. Gato had not much opportunity of studying nature. When, as happened several times during early life, he was taken into wild and solitary places, his attention concentrated itself upon living things. Beside those he seemed to care for nothing, except, perhaps, to be perverse. He climbed trees and would not come down, hid, and pretended not to hear when he was called. Once, improbable as it seems, he lost himself, and when all hope of recovering him appeared to be gone, here came the little wretch, in a very bad temper, nosing out his friend’s trail, and convinced that he had been tormenting him, and done the whole thing on purpose.

It is time to close these memorabilia. Such facts as the records of his life contribute towards the ways of wild beasts, and illustrating their habits and character, have been now brought forward. A book might be written about his adventures and the traits he displayed, yet most of what was most interesting in his character lies on the border land of actual observation, and cannot be distinctly stated.

The manner in which Gato departed this life was worthy of himself, and may be taken as the last proof of his unchanged savagery of spirit. He had never come into actual conflict with a man, not because of unwillingness, but in consequence of the restraint imposed by confinement, bonds, or his guardian’s presence. On the evening of his death he was fastened by the fountain; when, as it is said, for unhappily the writer was absent, a strange dog appeared, whom he sprang at, breaking his chain close to the collar, and killed. Afterwards he climbed a tree, and while the servants shut themselves up in their apartments, stretched himself out on a limb, and looked down upon the mangled remains of his victim. No doubt the ferocious feelings of his nature were all aroused, and unfortunately just at that time a man rode through the stone passage that in this country serves as a front door. Then the puma came down and flew at him, springing on to the croup of his horse, and wounding, though slightly, both it and its rider. The man being a nervous person, lost his head entirely, and not satisfied with making himself safe in a room whose door was opened to him, must needs fire out of the window with a carbine he found in the apartment. Some people become demented at the sight of their own blood, and this was one of them. He held straight, however, and the ball shattered the animal’s right shoulder and passed backwards into his body. Gato had got between two great roots of the tree when his friend arrived, and that saved him from another shot. The creature was desperate, but too intelligent not to know that he who approached had no part in what he suffered. It was a mortal wound, but death promised to be delayed till that splendid frame was wasted by morbid processes and his life was gasped out in agony. This was not to be endured. The hand of affection did him the last good office, and he died instantly.

Pumas do not charge men in masses. Their victims are chosen among those creatures they find alone. Individuals have sometimes been assailed by more than one. Im Thurn asserts that the “Warracaba tigers” of Guiana, who hunt in families, are pumas. Two persons occasionally appear in authentic records as having been assaulted. Mostly, however, the incidents of any serious adventure of this kind are only known to a single individual, and whether they are ever recounted depends almost entirely upon the way in which the attack is made. A hunter taken by surprise would generally lose his life. This animal is not difficult to kill, and the facility with which it may be disposed of is another reason for disparaging its prowess among the class who most commonly encounter it.

A source of misunderstanding is also found in the special habits of this animal. Those of the _Felidæ_ about which some more or less vague information is most generally diffused, do not climb. The puma is particularly given to doing so wherever forest lands are found within the range of its distribution. Quite as frequently as the Asiatic and African leopard, and more commonly than a jaguar, this beast resorts to trees when pursued. Its reasons for doing so cannot be doubted: it feels at home among the boughs; observation has taught the animal that none of those natural enemies it need avoid can follow. If dogs are on its track, it is well aware that, owing to their superior speed, they are certain to come up with it, and that in taking to the limbs above, its scent will be lost. For this habit but one reason has been commonly assigned; namely, that the puma is a poltroon.

In G. O. Shields’ compilation of monographs upon “The Large Game of North America,” he publishes some narratives that throw light upon the cougar’s character. Revenge is not a very powerful or persistent passion in the _Felidæ_, but cruelty is. Injuries are soon forgotten, and nobody ever knew a lion or tiger to act in this regard like an elephant. The feline beast never forgets, however, or becomes indifferent to the joy of torture. That is why it is fatal to fear it. The sight of this kind of suffering excites all their fell tendencies. Accidents with these animals are not results of abiding hate and premeditated vengeance, but very often of sudden impulse excited by the sight of apprehension. Deep, concentrated, persistent feeling is beyond the _Felidæ_. This is why Dio Cassius’ story of Androcles and his lion is untrue; quite as much a romance of the affections as Balzac’s “Passion du Désert.” Gérard’s touching account of his reunion with Hubert at the _Jardin des Plantes_ fails, in his version of the animal’s feelings, for the same reason--because it is impossible. No doubt the lion he had reared was glad to see him, but that is not what is conveyed. The picture presented is too like that drawn by Homer of the behavior of Ulysses’ dog, when his “far-travelled” master came back, an unrecognized stranger, to Ithaca. No wild beast of the cat kind ever sat for that portrait.

Shields and others inform us that on several occasions “panthers” have been known to accompany women and children for some distance, and play with them, caper about their paths, and pull at their clothes, without doing further harm than was produced by fright. That these creatures act under the influence of playful moods is certain, but that a wild beast should come out of the woods and in pure lightness of heart invite a perfect stranger to romp, appears to be improbable.

Without pretending to decide upon what the mental or emotional state under such circumstances really was, both the natural character of these beasts, and certain well-known devices, not only of theirs, but of allied species, suggest another explanation. One of the most common means for defence resorted to by this family at large, is an assumption of anger, and the pretence of attack--they try to frighten intruders whom they suspect of an intention to do them harm. When a puma crouches and bares its teeth it is not always enraged, but very frequently does this for the reason that it is uneasy, or dislikes what you are doing and wishes to put an end to something disagreeable by terrifying the objectionable person. It might then happen that a cougar would, when startled by an accidental meeting of this kind, assume an offensive attitude with the intention of intimidating the person met. If it succeeded, apprehension might easily give place for a time to its propensity towards torture, and the beast would then behave much in the same manner, apart from actual violence, as if in the course of its pursuit of prey this had been overtaken. Such situations, however, present none of the conditions that tend towards permanence. In default of speedy rescue, the partially aroused tendencies of the puma would soon become fully awakened, and its impulses break out in acts of bloodshed.

Various references have been made to that part of the education of feline beasts by which they are taught not to kill their human associates. One may read a great deal without finding much information on this subject. Most all of the professional trainers whom the writer has exchanged ideas with on this point were of opinion that fear alone would prevent these creatures from becoming dangerous; and it is customary to proceed upon this principle. As soon, however, as any single rule is attempted to be fitted to all cases, it becomes plain that it will not apply. The personality of a cat is not to be compared with that of a man; nevertheless, if one is reared without taking this into account, it will be ruined. Such beings differ so greatly in disposition and temper, in capacity, and the power and willingness to learn, that to force them all alike into a mould, causes mental and moral deformity with the same certainty that a similar proceeding would cause distortion of their bodies if the means used were material restraints to physical development. The system of terrorism is based upon the false assumption that fear is the only feeling which will affect the _Felidæ_ deeply and permanently, and that this can only be excited in one way; namely, by severity.