testimonies of Pallas and F. Cuvier. Pallas describes the migratory nature of these rats, and states that in the autumn of 1729 they arrived at Astrachan, in Russia, in such incredible numbers that nothing could be done to oppose them. They came from the western deserts, and even the waves of the Volga did not arrest their progress.
It is said by others that their first arrival was on the coast of Ireland, in those ships that used to trade in provisions to Gibraltar, and that perhaps we owe to a single couple of these animals the numerous progeny now infesting the whole extent of the British empire. Mr. Newman asserts that we received the rat from Hanover, whence it was called the Hanoverian rat. Mr. Waterton states that his father, who was a naturalist, always maintained that they came to us in the very ship which brought George I. to England, and that they were seen swimming in a shoal from the ship to the shore. Pennant says that the brown rat arrived in England about 1728, and in Paris twenty years later; but a modern writer asserts that they appeared in France in the middle of the sixteenth century, and were first observed in Paris. Buffon says that it is uncertain from whence they came, though it was only ten years before, that they arrived in France, and this I believe to be about the true state of the case; though the Egyptians maintain that they were made out of the mud of the Nile, and assert that they have seen them in the process of formation, being half rat, half mud.
After all, it matters little from whence rats came. Here they are; and how to get rid of them will form the subject of the following pages.
* The common Water Vole is the Arvicola of Cuvier, who divides the genius into four species: the Water Vole (Mus amphibius, Linnæus); the Alsacian Vole (Mus terrestris); the Meadow Vole (Mus arvalis); and the Economic Vole (Mus œconomicus).
* Cuvier says that this animal did not pass into Europe till the eighteenth century. He further observes that it appears to belong to Persia, where it lives in burrows, and that it was not till 1727 that, after an earthquake, it arrived at Astrachan, by crossing the Volga.
CHAPTER II.
THE UNREASONABLE FEAR OF RATS.
I KNOW of no one thing so universally detested, or so unjustly charged with everything that is foul, treacherous, and disgusting, as the rat. I say unjustly, because whatever it does, like every other animal, it is only following the bent of its nature. But, at the same time, I believe a vast amount of the disgust exhibited at the bare mention of its name to be mere affectation. The most striking instance I ever met with took place one evening in London, where a friend of mine supped, or rather was to have supped, with a party by invitation, the good lady having invited her friends, in the temporary absence of her husband. I here give his own account.
The party met, and as he was the only stranger present, of course the formality of introducing him to each was indispensable. This ceremony being concluded, the supper was served up. There were roast ducks, fowls roast and boiled, plovers, curried rabbits, ham, lamb, &c., with vegetables of all kinds, and soups and sauces in profusion. They were all seated round the table in pairs, to please the peculiar notions of the amiable hostess. There were four Miss So-and-So’s, of different surnames, and four Master So-and-So’s to correspond. They were packed up two and two, and there was plenty of everything but room. Then there were Mr. and Mrs. Tweedle, and Mr. and Mrs. Button. These four, as a matter of course, claimed their matrimonial prerogatives. The good landlady herself was seated at the head of the table; thus making a comfortable picnic party of fifteen. The covers were removed, and the steam rose in one vast volume, to the evident satisfaction of all around. The fowls were disjointed, and they were all busily engaged, when there was one of the most tremendous squeals below stairs ever heard. All operations instantly ceased, and every one stared with breathless astonishment. Presently the hostess and my friend went to the door to ascertain the cause, when they found a terrible rushing up stairs. It was her hopeful son and heir, Master Bobby. “O mother,” said he, “see what a jolly great rat I’ve caught!” at the same time holding up an enormous fellow fast gripped in a gintrap. She slammed the door, and uttering a faint shriek, staggered backwards into her chair, and fainted away, or at least seemed to faint. All the party were on their legs, the ladies clinging fast to the gentlemen for protection. My friend of course tried all the little antidotes of which he was master; such as bathing the lady’s hands and temples with vinegar, pump-water, eau-de-Cologne, &c.; but all to no purpose. Yet, what made the matter still more appalling was, that Miss So-and-So was fainting in the arms of Mr. So-and-So; then her companion followed suit, and so the ladies dropped off one after the other, till it was quite clear that fainting was the order of the evening. As for poor Mr. Button, though himself a very diminutive gentleman, he was nevertheless the sole proprietor of a very large wife and six little Buttons, and in his ferocity a perfect lion-eater. His gaunt angel had fainted away at full length on the sofa, which roused him to the highest pitch of daring; for, in his vengeance, he seized a mahogany chair to smash the enemy, and in brandishing it above his head one of the legs came in contact with a splendid mirror, and made a brilliant star in the centre; but, unmindful of the accident, he still proceeded; and whether in imagination he saw the rat, or whether to frighten it I know not, but down he brought the chair with such a tremendous crash that off flew the legs, and there it sat bolt upright, like an old Greenwich pensioner without his stumps. My friend’s inward laughter, however, was soon turned to something more serious, for his fat damsel, as if to show them all how to faint, raised her hands, and giving a most awful scream, threw herself plump into his arms, which capsized him, table, supper, and all. He fell across the upper legs, which flew off, and there he lay puffing and blowing on the broad of his back, with this precious grampus on top of him. All was darkness, when up came the big servant, followed by a lesser one with a candle; in she went blundering, and fell flat on top of them. That was too much; but clumsy as she was, she soon scrambled up, and released him from his counterpane by rolling her over, at which, he says, she gave a groan that felt for all the world like the threatening rumbles of an angry volcano. Our hero, however, had no sooner gained his legs, than there was a rat-a-tat-tat-a-tat-tat at the door, followed by a ring-a-ding-ding-a-ding-ding. “Lorks, marm,” said the big servant, “if there ain’t master!—who’d have thought it?” It has often been said that what is one person’s meat is another’s poison, so it turned out in this case; for the servant’s announcement, which made her mistress faint in reality, had the effect of bringing every one else to their senses; and even the fat damsel rolled and kicked till she got on to her hands and knees, when my friend, by a powerful effort of physical exertion, succeeded in performing a chivalrous act by helping her on her feet.
The master, who was altogether unexpected, was a man of asthmatical and acetic disposition, and had a somewhat quaint and dramatic way of expressing himself; yet, unlike his amiable wife, he had a great aversion to company, since he looked upon it as the annihilator of domestic felicity. He no sooner entered and saw the real state of affairs, than, with all the brevity of Lady Macbeth, he requested the company to stand not upon the order of going, but to go at once! To which request, with all the etiquette of good breeding, my friend responded by taking his hat, and making his bow, never more to return.
Now, here was a scene of pitiable disasters, arising out of a little nonsensical display at seeing a dead rat! Had the mistress given Master Bobby a cuff on the ear, and ordered him to throw it away, she would not only have shown herself a wiser woman, but have saved all the misery and expense which otherwise resulted.
The fear of rats exhibits a mere childish weakness, which in parents, who ought to teach their children better, is highly reprehensible. What harm do they think a rat will do them, which is already more frightened than they are, and only wants to effect its escape. It is true that in some instances, if you press a rat into a corner, and will not let it escape, it will fly at you; yet it will not do so, if you open the
