At Lord Moule’s
“. . . witty inventions . . .”
Prov. 8.12
An animated conversation was in progress round the dinner table in the Adam’s Room
at Lord and Lady Moule’s manor, nestled in the green heart of the English countryside,
five miles from the picturesque village of Merithorpe. Distinguished guests had come
from the United States, Australia, New Zealand, Borneo, Ireland, Israel and Japan.
The special guest of honour was Rabbi Leibowitz, whose definitive edition of the
Nabusite Chronicles, in twenty volumes, had been published by the Moule Foundation,
to universal acclaim, both scholarly and popular.
As to be expected in such an intellectually diverse company, the topics of conversation
had ranged widely, from the quantum state of the universe nanoseconds after its creation
(Lord Moule) to its final consummation in the age to come (Mrs Wheatstone), with
many interesting highlights of the intervening period, such as great moments in nineteenth
century English county cricket (Father Compton).
Bulstrode had been leaning across the table explaining to Victor Anstruther how a
Morris Minor crankshaft could be converted to a low-cost solar-powered irrigation
pump when his attention was caught by a striking personage who had entered the room
— an aristocratic, cream-coloured Siamese cat with immense, hypnotic blue-green eyes.
“Look at that!” he said. “What a stunning cat!”
“This is Minky, everyone,” said Lady Moule. “Minky, come and meet our guests.”
Minky surveyed the assembly with serene equanimity, accepting as his just due the
attention lavished upon him. Sensing that, of all the guests, Father Conlon was the
only one who did not actually possess a cat (his terrier Billy having something of
an aversion to the feline race) Minky calmly settled himself on the old priest’s
lap.
Catching sight of Rabbi Leibowitz’s dog Red, who was regarding him with upstanding
ears and shining eyes, Minky curled his lips in an aristocratic sneer then quietly
went to sleep.
Everyone was found to have a great deal to contribute on the subject of cats: history
and breeds of cats (Lady Moule), spiritual discernment in cats (Miss Edwina Kray),
“Cats” the musical (Dr Rees-Jones), Irish cat jokes (Father Conlon), great cats of
Borneo (Victor Anstruther), musical tastes of cats (Alison Bulstrode), cats in Japanese
folklore (Mrs Nakajima), my cat Walter (Father Pike), do cats go to the afterlife?
(Janey Pike), famous cats of the American West (Dr Atherton Grainge), cats in the
New York State Penitentiary (PK), eminent personages of the Roseville Cat Appreciation
Society (Professor Coraline Lauder).
The conversation had continued on this agreeable subject for some time when Lord
Moule tapped on the table with his fork to attract his guests’ attention.
“I have an important announcement to make,” said Lord Moule. “Our learned colleague
Rabbi Leibowitz has a remarkable tale to tell that will be of interest to cat lovers
everywhere. It will, indeed, cast a significant new light on the place of cats in
human affections and their role in society at large.
“I suggest therefore that we adjourn to the library for refreshments, where the Rabbi
will relate his story.”
In the library, Farnham the butler had prepared drinks
according to detailed instructions given by Lady Moule. There was scotch for the
Rev. Donald McIntosh, gin and bitters for his wife Anne, cabernet sauvignon for Bulstrode
and his wife Alison, Budweiser for Sergeant Goddard,
lemonade and sarsaparilla for Captain James, shandy for Father Compton, ratafia for
Constance Compton, Coke for PK and Pepsi for his girlfriend JD, sake for Pastor and
Mrs Nakajima, root beer for Pastor and Nancy Kleinfeld, highball for Miss Kray, carrot
juice for Dr Atherton Grainge, gin and tonic for Mrs Denny Grainge, chardonnay for
Dr Rees-Jones and his wife Lavina, soda pop for the Rev. Bob Clement, brandy and
soda for Darlene Clement, tequila for Dr Coraline Lauder, Irish whisky with green
ginger wine for Father Conlon, spritzer for Penny Mortimer, mineral water for Stanley
Mortimer, cider for Janey Pike, kirsch for Rabbi Leibowitz, Foster’s lager for Pastor
Wheatstone, dry sherry for Mrs Wheatstone, light rum for Father Pike, and port for
Lord Moule.
Victor Anstruther had brought with him a calabash of du’wuk, a pungent, fermented
concoction of roots and berries. There was a less potent concoction of tropical fruit
juices for his charming wife Rinayah.
“Who are we missing?” asked Lord Moule, surveying his guests as they made themselves
comfortable in the library. “We mustn’t forget Granny Appleton and Florence.”
“Or Sharples,” said Lady Moule. “He wasn’t very fond of cats to begin with but he’s
really taken to the black kitten who sleeps in the drawing room. He’s named it Ming.
Oh, and there’s Mr Speyde, the gardener — he has the big ginger tom, Tygger.”
A delegation was despatched with a Bath chair to the east wing to fetch Granny Appleton,
to the kitchen to fetch Florence, to the garage to fetch Sharples the chauffeur,
and to the gardener’s cottage to fetch Mr Speyde.
Farnham meanwhile busied himself preparing the potations favoured by the manorial
residents: milk stout laced with cherry brandy, sparkling perry, dark rum with peppermint,
and home-made parsnip wine.
The audience settled themselves into armchairs while Rabbi Leibowitz took up a position
beside the fireplace, his dog Red stretched out at his feet. Stories about cats did
not appeal to Red, and despite the promise of accompanying the Rabbi and Dr Grainge
on a fishing expedition in the morning, his mien was somewhat doleful.
A minor delay ensued when Granny Appleton, learning that the story was to involve
cats, insisted on the presence of her cat Rugglesworth, who was accustomed to a nightly
bedtime story. Again, a delegation was despatched to the east wing and returned with
Rugglesworth in a wicker laundry hamper draped with an antimacassar, as he was allergic
to the sight of dogs.
Rabbi Leibowitz could now begin.
“A feature of the ancient Nabusite society that has come to light in my study of
the Chronicles is the high regard in which the Nabusites held cats. This was not
always the case. The esteem paid to the cat is due to one of their great teachers,
Rabbi Nathaniel the Nabusite, whose tale I will now relate. You will note the advanced
literary technique of the narrative, which, like the Nabusite’s philosophical and
technological achievements, is far ahead of that existing elsewhere at the time.
Those interested in the technical problems of translation are referred to the supplementary
volume, currently in preparation.”
Rabbi Nathaniel was very old and could no longer lead his people in worship at the
synagogue. He spent all his days at home in the company of his cats.
The time was drawing near for the Rabbi to enter into the reward of the faithful.
His only worry was how to find homes for all his cats before he departed this life.
The Rabbi had seen much suffering in life, but what distressed him above all was
the suffering of animals at the hands of man. For, as the Rabbi said, if it is hard
for a Jew to love a fellow Jew, and harder still to love a Gentile, how much harder
it is to love a dumb beast.
One winter’s afternoon the Rabbi sat on his porch reading his Torah, warmed by a
pale sun. Around him lay his many cats, each in the place proper to his or her rank,
dreaming the deep dreams of cats. On the Rabbi’s lap was his favourite cat, Mordecai.
This Mordecai had come to the Rabbi’s house when he was a sleek black kitten and
now he was old and grizzled. But he was still a handsome cat, with eyes that burned
like pools of deep green fire.
“How shall I find people to care for you all when I am gone to my final home, Mordecai?”
the Rabbi mused aloud. “What can I say to them that will open their hearts?
Mordecai purred his deep, contented purr. It soothed the Rabbi as he dozed in his
chair, and he passed into a waking dream.
He saw an ancient kingdom where cats were treated as honoured guests. He saw inside
rich palaces where cats walked to and fro among the kings and governors of the people.
He saw inside temples where the priests burnt incense and intoned prayers for the
souls of cats. He saw inside mud huts where cats sat on rush mats and shared the
food of humble families.
“If only my own people would treat cats as well as these people do,” the Rabbi thought
to himself.
Now he saw his own people, in the days when they were tent dwellers. He saw a handsome
young shepherd sitting outside his tent, with a cat on his lap, a cat not unlike
Mordecai in appearance. And out in the hills he saw another man, dark and wild-looking,
with a hunting bow over his shoulders. At his heel was a hunting dog.
The Rabbi observed there was rivalry between the two men, who were twin brothers.
And he saw how the nature of each man was reflected in the animal he had chosen as
a companion.
Rabbi Nathaniel was musing on this dream when the people from the Synagogue arrived
at his house to hear him teach from the Torah, for the Rabbi was greatly loved for
his wisdom. Young and old, rich and poor they came: young betrothed couples, husbands
and wives with their children, grave grey-bearded men and dignified old ladies.
The Nabusites looked at each other with eyebrows raised when they saw cats peeking
at them from beneath the tables and chairs.
“Some of you may think I am a foolish old man to share my home with cats,” the Rabbi
began. “What is the life of a beast that we should care whether it lives or dies,
suffers or is happy? But of all people it is the Jew who should have concern for
the welfare of animals, for they were created before man, and the Lord saw they were
good and commanded them to multiply. Just as the Lord gave his angels charge concerning
man, so has he entrusted man with the care of his animal creation.”
The Rabbi set Mordecai on the floor before them.
“Behold what a noble creature the cat is. In it we glimpse the mystery and majesty
of creation. Even the pagan people of Egypt recognised this. So highly did they value
their cats, that their sculptors made statues of them. The rich embalmed their cats
on death to keep them company in the after-life.
“In olden times, our own ancestors also kept cats. Our forefather Jacob, who was
a herdsman, loved the company of his cats in his tent at night. This is not to be
wondered at, for like Jacob, the cat is subtle, clever and comfort-loving by nature.
It is a schemer of schemes and a dreamer of dreams.
“Jacob’s brother Esau was a hunter. He kept dogs. Just as Jacob’s nature was different
from Esau’s, so is the nature of a cat different from that of a dog. A dog’s nature
is to live in the wild with its own kind. A cat prefers the comfort of a hearthside
and company of a trusted human.”
Rabbi Nathaniel addressed the men.
“The cat is a kingly creature, a true member of the House of Judah, who walks freely
in the palaces of the great. But equally it is at home in the cottage of a humble
family.
“A dog is brave and loyal when it lives with man. But a dog takes on the character
of his master, for good or ill. A savage dog is to be feared as much as a violent
man.
“A cat does not change its nature for any human master. It keeps its mystery to itself.
But those who keep a cat find that in the many troubles of life their cares are soothed,
so that they come to a good old age, as I have done.”
Rabbi Nathaniel addressed the women.
“No animal is cleaner and daintier in its habits than a cat. And no animal is more
protective of its offspring. No animal shows more courage in defending its young,
and though small in size, its fury will put a savage dog to flight.”
The Rabbi addressed the children.
“The Gentiles tell the story of the cat who wore boots and how it brought good fortune
to a boy setting out in life. There is much truth in this. A wise child treats a
cat with kindness and respect and will be rewarded many times over. A child who cruelly
treats a cat will feel the enmity of every beast, and his life will always be in
danger.”
The Rabbi spoke to all the people.
“In the home where it is made welcome, a cat will give delight to young children,
contentment to married couples and companionship to those who must live alone.
“My wish for all of you is that harmony and peace will fill your homes. My cats are
the gift I wish to leave you when I am gone.”
Rabbi Nathaniel had finished his lesson. He put on his spectacles and opened the
Torah to pronounce the blessing.
Mordecai looked at the people with his great green eyes. There was a smile on his
wise old face, for the Rabbi had spoken truly and well. He climbed back on to the
Rabbi’s lap and went to sleep.
“Wake up, Rugglesworth,” said Granny Appleton. “What did you think of the story?”
“I think there’s more to come, Granny,” whispered Florence.
After Rabbi Nathaniel had gone to his rest, the people came to choose their cats
to take home. In truth, they came to see with whom each cat would choose to live,
for a cat will not live with people it does not respect.
Mordecai went to live with a rich old widow. He lived a life of great comfort, sleeping
on a silk cushion and eating the finest fish.
While he lay purring on her lap, the widow would consult him on many important matters,
such as whether it would rain that day, or whether she should wear pearls or rubies
with her black dress when she went to the Synagogue. He brought much contentment
into her life.
And, in time, Mordecai too entered the reward of the faithful.
“I say,’ said Lord Moule. “What a topping story. Wonderful spiritual insight. That
certainly calls for a round of applause.”
“Excuse me your Lordship. I wonder if I might say a few words?”
It was Mr Speyde the gardener.
“”I would like to say how much I for one enjoyed the Rabbi’s story. It seems to me
that if the people of Great Britain, and indeed the world, took the Rabbi’s story
to heart, we wouldn’t have the problem we do with finding homes for poor homeless
cats. I’m sure Lady Moule will appreciate what I mean, being as she is patron of
the Royal Society for the Protection of Cats — among her many other works of charity.
“It also seems to me, having read all twenty volumes of the Nabusite Chronicles,
so eloquently rendered into the English tongue by the learned Rabbi Leibowitz, that
we — and indeed the world at large — owe a profound debt of gratitude to the Nabusite
people.
“For myself, I have found the article on rose growing by the inestimable King Haran
IV, to be quite the most helpful advice ever published on the subject. Particularly
as regards the important role of compost. And I am sure that all members of the Association
of Rose Growers of Great Britain would agree with me on this point. And that is but
one instance of the genius exhibited in the annals of this singular people.
“In short, it seems to me that the Nabusites deserve to take their place in the history
books alongside the other great nations of the world. As I am sure they will do,
thanks to the unstinting efforts of Rabbi Leibowitz and the generosity and foresight
of the Moule Foundation.
“Accordingly, (Mr Speyde raised his glass of parsnip wine) I would like to propose
a toast to this long-neglected but most sagacious people.
“Three cheers for the Nabusites! Hip, hip, hooray!”
“Hip, hip, hooray!”
The guests raised their glasses and drank.
THE END
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