Gode
Cookery Presents
True stories, fables and anecdotes from the
Middle Ages
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In the 9th century, an Irish
monk living in Reichenau on Lake Constance
revealed his humor, learning, and love for his little white cat in a
poem
he wrote there. As we read, both he and Pangur Ban seem to be in the
room
with us, not in their monkish cell viewed down the long vista of eleven
centuries:
I and Pangur Ban my
cat, 'Tis a like task we are at,
Hunting mice is his delight, Hunting words I sit all night 'Tis a merry thing to see, At our tasks how glad are we When at home we sit and find, Entertainment to our mind. 'Gainst the wall he sets his eye, Full and fierce and sharp and sly, 'Gainst the wall of knowledge I, All my little wisdom try. So in peace our task we ply: Pangur Ban my cat and I In our arts and in our bliss, I have mine and he has his.
Many native monks were
forced to flee Ireland at this time to escape
the devastation of pillaging Norsemen. Pangur Ban must have provided
great
companionship to this Irish monk living in foreign Reichenau, missing
his
homeland.
Excerpts from: Life in Medieval Times by Marjorie Rowling. New York: The Berkely Publishing Group, 1979.  A
Medieval catAnother Woodcut of a Cat Catching
Rats Cats were not such common pets as dogs were in the Middle Ages, and it seems they were viewed in more practical terms as mousers and ratters. There is a drawing in the Luttrell Psalter of a tabby toying with a mouse, and there is also a carving of a cat with a rat in its mouth, by a craftsman who appreciated everyday scenes, on the 15th-century timber watching gallery beside the shrine of St. Alban in St. Alban's Abbey (now the cathedral). On a further practical note, William Langland wrote in Piers Plowman of a pedlar who was disposed to kill cats for their skins if he could manage to catch them. Archaeologists have found cat bones with cut marks suggesting that the fur had been removed. Such a use of the animal signifies the keeping of cats as livestock, not pets. Eleanor de Montfort, Countess of Leicester and sister of Henry III, appreciated cats, although whether for practical or affectionate reasons is not clear, for in 1265 one was purchased for her household on arrival at Oldham and another was purchased when the household moved to Dover. Bartholomew de Glanville, who is better known as Bartholomew the Englishman, completed a widely used encyclopaedia in about 1240. In this he wrote some observant lines about cats, which were translated from Latin into English late in the 14th-century by John Trevisa: "...
a beste of uncerteyn heare (hair) and colour. For some catte
is whyte, some reed, and som black, som scowed (piebald or calico) and
spenked in the feet and in the eeren... And hath a gret mough and sawe
teeth and scharpe and longe tonge and pliaunt, thynne, and sotile. And
lapeth therwith whanne he drynketh... And he is a ful leccherous beste
in youthe, swyfte, plyaunt, and mery. And lepeth and reseth (rusheth)
on
alle thyng that is tofore him and is yladde by a strawe and pleyeth
therwith.
And is a wel heuy beste in eelde (old age) and ful slepy. And lith
sliliche
in awayte for mys and is ware where they ben more by smelle than by
sight.
And hunteth and reseth on hem in priuey place. And whanne he taketh a
mous
he pleyeth therwith, and eteth him after the pleye. And is as it were
wylde,
and goth aboute in tyme of generacioun. Among cattes in tyme of loue is
hard fightynge for wyues, and oon cracceth and rendeth the other
greuousliche
with bytyng and with clawes. And he maketh a reweliche noyse and
horrible
whan oon profreth to fighte with another. And is a cruel beste whanne
he
is wilde and wonyeth in wodes and hunteth thanne smale wilde bestes, as
conynges and hares. And falleth on his owne feet whanne he falleth out
of highe place..."
"... a
beast of
uncertain hair and color. For some cat is white,
some red, and some black, some calico and speckled in the feet and in
the
ears... And hath a great mouth and saw teeth and sharp and long tongue
and pliant, thin, and subtle. And lappeth therewith when he drinketh...
And he is a full lecherous in youth, swift, pliant and merry, and
leapeth
and rusheth on everything that is before him and is led by a straw, and
playeth therewith; and is a right heavy beast in age and full sleepy,
and
lieth slyly in wait for mice and is aware where they be more by smell
than
by sight, and hunteth and rusheth on them in privy places. And when he
taketh a mouse, he playeth therewith, and eateth him after the play. In
time of love is hard fighting for wives, and one scratcheth and rendeth
the other grieviously with biting and with claws. And he maketh a
ruthful
noise and ghastful, when one proffereth to fight with one another, and
unneth is hurt when he is thrown from a high place. And when he hath a
fair skin, he is as it were proud thereof, and goeth fast about. And
when
his skin is burnt, then he bideth at home. And is oft for his fair skin
taken of the skinner, and slain and flayed."
(Translation
and
additional
text from Lost Country Life by Dorothy Hartley, 1979, Pantheon
Books.)
The words of the Franciscan friar Bartholomew reach with clarity from the 13th-century to any observer of cats today, and urge us to believe that some Medievals took pleasure in cats as pets. We must note, however, that Batholomew concluded his remarks on cats by saying that the animal "is ofte for his fayre skynne ytake of the skynnere and yslayne." Notice is due here of the succession of official cats of Exeter Cathedral. The obit accounts for the cathedral from 1305 through 1467 contain the entry custoribus et cato (to the "custors" - keepers - and the cat), and on one occasion pro cato (for the cat), amounting to a penny per week. This sum was apparantly to supplement the diet of the official cat, who was expected to control the pest population of the cathedral. A cat-hole is still to be found in the door in the north transept wall beneath the clock, through which the salaried feline could enter and egress while going about its task of hunting rats, mice, birds, and other threats to the cathedral. One wonders if John Catterick during his brief tenure in 1419 as Bishop of Exeter was ever informed by someone with a whimsical sense of humour of the existence of the official cat. Excerpts from: Pleasures and Pastimes in Medieval England by Compton Reeves. New York: Oxford University Press, 1998. Cats suffered horribly
during witch hunts, which fostered or encouraged
all kinds of superstition and brutality. Yet manuscripts show them
about
the house, playing with the spinster's twirling bobbin, and earning
their
living on farms.
There was a certain monastic cat who played with serpents. The monks came out in spots, and accused the cat of conveying the serpent's poison. Fortunately (for the cat) it was pointed out that the serpent only played with the cat - so that any poison was delivered accidentally: as there was no "malice intent," harm would not be transmitted. However, it was advisable in the dairy to "set trap for a mouse," for though a dog is reasonably honest, and properly ashamed if caught, any cat who will not steal must be mentally deficient - it's the first thing their mother's teach them! Excerpts from: Lost Country Life by Dorothy Hartley. New York: Pantheon Books, 1979. |
