by L A Vocelle
(At his fond kindness, reader, do not laugh)
Sooth’d my last moments, clos’d my dying eyes.
Dug here my grave, and wrote my epitaph.
But lest these lines they fancy should deceive,
And thou should’st think some patriot claims a tear,
Thy rising anguish let me now relieve:
‘Tis only Puss, the Citizen, lies here
(Bayley, 1821, p. 178).
Another anecdote of mourning and remembrance is related by Moncrif of Madamoiselle Dupuy, a harpist, who relied upon her tomcat to guide and inspire her during her musical performances. She very much believed that she owed much of her universal success to the critical evaluations of this feline muse. Quite well-to-do, when she realized that she was dying, she made a bequest to her beloved cat to keep him in the manner to which he had been accustomed, which included covering the costs of the services of a person to wait on him. Unfortunately, the family contested the will, and no one knows what actually became of the poor cat after Mlle. Dupuy’s death (figure 7.5).
Another French woman who loved her cat above all was Madame de Lesdiguieres. The tombstone is a representation of her cat with the epitaph (figure 7.6):
A lovely Cat lies here:
Her Mistress, who loved no one,
Loved her almost to despair;
Why say so? This will show one.
Figure 7.5. Death of Mlle Dupuy Bequeathing all to her Cats, From Moncrif’s Les Chats, 1727
Even so, not everyone was touched by the light of the Enlightenment, and a few scientists such as George Louis Leclerc de Buffon, a dog lover, and author of the Histoire Naturelle 1749-67, did not have a very high opinion of cats, and turned away from a reverence for nature, instead valuing animals solely for their purposefulness and submissiveness to man. He wrote, “The cat is a faithless domestic, and only kept through necessity to oppose to another domestic which incommodes us still more, and which we cannot drive away; for we pay not respect to those, who, being fond of all beasts, keep cats for amusement. Though these animals are gentle and frolicsome when young, yet they, even then, possess an innate cunning and perverse disposition, which age increases, and which education only serves to conceal. They are, naturally, inclined to theft, and the best education only converts them into servile and flattering robbers; for they have the same address, subtlety, and inclination for mischief or rapine. Like all knaves, they know how to conceal their intentions, to watch, wait, and choose opportunities for seizing their prey; to fly from punishment, and to remain away until the danger is over, and they return to safety. They readily conform to the habits of society, but never acquire its manners; for of attachment they have only the appearance, as may be seen by the obliquity of their motions, and duplicity of their looks. They never look in the face those who treat them best, and of whom they seem to be the most fond; but either the nigh fear or falsehood, they approach him by windings to seek for those caresses they have no pleasure in, but only to flatter those from whom they receive them. Very different from that faithful dog, whose sentiments are all directed to the person of his Master, the cat appears only to feel for himself, only to love conditionally, only to partake of society that he may abuse it; and by this disposition he has more affinity to man than the dog, who is all sincerity…It cannot be said that cats, though living in our houses, are entirely domestic. The most familiar are not under any subjection, but rather enjoy perfect freedom, as they only do just what they please, and nothing is capable of returning them in a place which they are inclined to desert” (Buffon, 1792, Vol. 6, pp. 1-10) (figure 7.7).
In line with Buffon’s view of the cat, the Encyclopaedia Britannica, 3rd edition, 1787, reads, “The domesticus, or tame cat, is so well known, that it requires no description. It is a useful, but deceitful domestic. Although when young they are playful and gay, they possess at the same time an innate malice and perverse disposition, which increases as they grow up, and which education learns them to conceal, but never to subdue. Constantly bent upon theft and rapine, though in a domestic state, they are full of cunning and dissimulation; they conceal all their designs; seize every opportunity of doing mischief, and then fly from punishment. They easily take on the habits of society, but never its manners; for they have only the appearance of friendship and attachment. This disingenuity of character is betrayed by the obliquity of their movements and the ambiguity of their looks. In a word, the cat is totally destitute of friendship; he thinks and acts for himself alone.”
Figure 7.6. Mme de Lesdigieres Cat, Paris, From Moncrif ‘s Les Chats, 1727
CAT MASSACRE
In addition to these negative images of the cat, a well-documented incident in Paris of a working class mob torturing and murdering cats because the rabble rousers were unhappy with their economic situation, proved that not all mentalities had changed.
Figure 7.7. Cat, Oeuvres complètes de Buffon,1830
In 1730, workers revolted in a print shop in Saint Séverin, Paris, where they massacred the innocent cats of Jacques Vincent’s wife. The story goes that Vincent’s wife fed and pampered many cats while their own print shop workers went hungry. The jealous workers grew upset when the cats constantly howled, keeping them awake during the night. In revenge for the noise and for the kindness the Vincents had shown the cats, the workers at first pretended to be cats and howled in order to wake up the Vincents. Unable to sleep because of the din produced by the workers, the printer and his wife asked them to remove all the cats except her favorite, La grise. Presumably due to their overall dissatisfaction with their working conditions, the workers, in a fit of sadism and contempt, instead killed the wife’s favorite cat, La grise, by breaking its back. The other feline victims, after being severely beaten, were thrown into sacks and given mock trials. Once the workers had pronounced their inevitable guilty sentences, they garroted or hanged the innocent creatures. The working class, perhaps due to their own continued social suffering, were not affected by the bourgeois concern for animal welfare and persisted in their torture of animals, especially the cat. Again, the cat became a symbol and victim of social unrest. This time used as a pawn by the workers against the bourgeoisie (Darnton, 1984, p. 87).
Other incidents of cat torture persisted in France especially during religious events. During Mardi Gras, boys joyfully threw cats up in the air and pulled their hair so as to hear them howl. Sometimes the evil ruffians set cats on fire and chased them through the streets, cour amiaud, and on St. John the Baptist day cats were burned. Only in 1765, was the burning of dozens of cats in Metz outlawed (Darnton, 1984, p. 104).
The evil mantle that the cat had borne through history owing to Greeks and early Christians was exploited by the French workers, and was then manipulated into a source of individual profit by a Prussian magician, Katterfelto (1743-1799). In order to entice crowds to his show, he used a “Famous Moroccan Black Cat” in his act, which he advertised as “evil”. After luring in the gullible audience, he confessed that the cat was as innocent of evil as himself. Katterfelto said that his cat “—so much excited the attention of the public, as to induce several gentlemen to make bets respecting its TAIL, as by the wonderful skill of Katterfelto she in one moment appears with a big tail and the next without any, to the utter astonishment of the spectators” (Paton-Williams, 2008, p. 81). One of Katterfelto’s advertisements read, “Wonders! Wonders! Wonders! Are to be seen by Katterfelto and his Black cat, worth 30,000 pounds, let out of the bag by the Philosopher himself, who has discovered a secret more valuable and astounding than the Philosopher’s Stone, the art of extracting god from the body of the cat.”† One news announcement written about his fabulous cat, reads “—his celebrated Black Cat, who has nine times more excellent properties than any nine cats among those nine-lived animals, was safely delivered of NINE kittens, seven of which are black and two are white.” Katterfelto’s cat became so popular that royalty eagerly awaited the ownership of one of the kittens. Marie Antoinette was even rumored to h
ave received one of these special kittens in 1783 (Paton-Williams, 2008, p. 84). With the kittens he kept, Katterfelto made good use. “…one of the gentlemen present asked the Doctor what he had done with his black cat and kittens; the Doctor, to great surprise of the whole company conveyed one of the kittens into the Welsh gentleman’s waistcoat pocket at 6 yards distance, purposely to make that gentleman believe he was the Devil” (Paton-Williams, 2008, p. 87). That he chose to keep “conveying the cats into people’s pockets taking money and watches out of them, as well as stopping and starting these time pieces were some of Katterfelto’s favorite tricks” (Paton-Williams, 2008, p. 88) (figure 7.8).
Figure 7.8. Katterfelto with Black Cat, from The Quacks of Old London by Charles John Samuel Thompson, Bretano, London, 1928
THE CAT IN POETRY AND LITERATURE
By and large, the cat was highly thought of during this age especially by those eccentrics who were judged to be a bit mad. William Cowper (1751-1800), who had bouts of madness and depression was no less a great poet. His first volume of poems published in 1782, was, by his death in 1800, so popular that it had already been reprinted ten times. Cowper espoused the Pantheistic belief of the time which was a love of nature and thereby a love of animals. In The Retired Cat, written in 1791, the plight of his cat that has become trapped in a dresser drawer seems a good opportunity for a moral.
Retired Cat
A POET'S cat, sedate and grave,
As poet well could wish to have,
Was much addicted to inquire
For nooks, to which she might retire,
And where, secure as mouse in chink,
She might repose, or sit and think.
I know not where she caught the trick—
Nature perhaps herself had cast her
In such a mould PHILOSOPHIQUE,
Or else she learn'd it of her master.
Sometimes ascending, debonair,
An apple-tree or lofty pear,
Lodg'd with convenience in the fork,
She watched the gard'ner at his work;
Sometimes her ease and solace sought
In an old empty wat'ring-pot,
There, wanting nothing, save a fan,
To seem some nymph in her sedan,
Apparell'd in exactest sort,
And ready to be borne to court.
But love of change it seems has place
Not only in our wiser race;
Cats also feel as well as we
That passion's force, and so did she.
Her climbing, she began to find,
Expos'd her too much to the wind,
And the old utensil of tin
Was cold and comfortless within:
She therefore wish'd instead of those,
Some place of more serene repose,
Where neither cold might come, nor air
Too rudely wanton with her hair,
And sought it in the likeliest mode
Within her master's snug abode.
A draw'r,—it chanc'd, at bottom lin'd
With linen of the softest kind,
With such as merchants introduce
From India, for the ladies' use,—
A draw'r impending o'er the rest,
Half open in the topmost chest,
Of depth enough, and none to spare,
Invited her to slumber there.
Puss with delight beyond expression
Survey'd the scene, and took possession.
Recumbent at her ease ere long,
And lull'd by her own hum-drum song,
She left the cares of life behind,
And slept as she would sleep her last,
When in came, housewifely inclin'd,
The chambermaid, and shut it fast,
By no malignity impell'd,
But all unconscious whom it held.
Awaken'd by the shock (cried puss)
Was ever cat attended thus!
The open draw'r was left, I see,
Merely to prove a nest for me,
For soon as I was well compos'd,
Then came the maid, and it was closed:
How smooth these 'kerchiefs, and how sweet,
O what a delicate retreat!
I will resign myself to rest
Till Sol, declining in the west,
Shall call to supper; when, no doubt,
Susan will come and let me out.
The evening came, the sun descended,
And puss remain'd still unattended.
The night roll'd tardily away,
(With her indeed 'twas never day)
The sprightly morn her course renew'd,
The evening gray again ensued,
And puss came into mind no more
Than if entomb'd the day before.
With hunger pinch'd, and pinch'd for room,
She now presag'd approaching doom,
Nor slept a single wink, or purr'd,
Conscious of jeopardy incurr'd.
That night, by chance, the poet watching,
Heard an inexplicable scratching,
His noble heart went pit-a-pat,
And to himself he said—what's that?
He drew the curtain at his side,
And forth he peep'd, but nothing spied.
Yet, by his ear directed, guess'd
Something imprison'd in the chest,
And doubtful what, with prudent care,
Resolv'd it should continue there.
At length a voice, which well he knew,
A long and melancholy mew,
Saluting his poetic ears,
Consol'd him, and dispell'd his fears;
He left his bed, he trod the floor,
He 'gan in haste the draw'rs explore,
The lowest first, and without stop,
The rest in order to the top.
For 'tis a truth well known to most,
That whatsoever thing is lost,
We seek it, ere it come to light,
In ev'ry cranny but the right.
Forth skipp'd the cat; not now replete
As erst with airy self-conceit,
Nor in her own fond apprehension
A theme for all the world's attention,
But modest, sober, cur'd of all
Her notions hyperbolical,
And wishing for a place of rest
Any thing rather than a chest:
Then stept the poet into bed,
With this reflection in his head:
MORAL
Beware of too sublime a sense
Of your own worth and consequence!
The man who dreams himself so great,
And his importance of such weight,
That all around, in all that's done,
Must move and act for him alone,
Will learn in school of tribulation,
The folly of his expectation (Milford, 1905, pp. 407-409).
In another of Cowper’s poems, Familiarity Dangerous, he writes of a cat and her mistress who are playing, but the mistress is scratched.
Familiarity Dangerous
As in her ancient mistress’ lap,
The youthful tabby lay,
Alike dispos’d to play.
But strife ensues. Puss waxes warm,
And with protruded claws
Ploughs all the length of Lydia’s arm,
Mere wantonness the cause.
At once, resentful of the deed,
She shakes her to the ground
With many a threat, that she shal bleed
With still a deeper wound.
But Lydia, bid thy fury rest!
It was a venial stroke;
For she, that will with kittens jest,
Should bear a kitten’s joke (Gooden, 1946, p. 50).
Another poet who went mad reportedly suffering from some sort of religious mania, was the English poet Christopher Smart, (1722-1771). Not even his good friend Samuel Johnson, who did not believe that Smart should be co
nfined for merely wanting people to pray with him, could keep him out of the asylum. Smart eventually ended up in a debtor’s prison where he died. But before that sad end, he wrote the poem Jubilate Agno, which remained unpublished until 1939. The poem, written primarily about his cat Jeoffry, is an example of nature and God as one, Pantheism. In the poem, Smart describes the Cat as a servant of God, worshipping in his own way.
JUBILATE AGNO
For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry.
For he is the servant of the Living God duly and daily serving him.
For at the first glance of the glory of God in the East he worships in his way.
For this is done by wreathing his body seven times round with elegant quickness.
For then he leaps up to catch the musk, which is the blessing of God upon his prayer.
For he rolls upon prank to work it in.
For having done duty and received blessing he begins to consider himself.
For this he performs in ten degrees.
For first he looks upon his forepaws to see if they are clean.
For secondly he kicks up behind to clear away there.
For thirdly he works it upon stretch with the forepaws extended.
For fourthly he sharpens his paws by wood.
For fifthly he washes himself.
For sixthly he rolls upon wash.
For seventhly he fleas himself, that he may not be interrupted upon the beat.
For eighthly he rubs himself against a post.
For ninthly he looks up from his instructions.
For tenthly he goes in quest of food.
For having consider’d God and himself he will consider his neighbor.
For if he meets another cat he will kiss her in kindness.
For when he takes his prey he plays with it to give it a chance.
For one mouse in seven escapes by his dallying.
For when his day’s work is done his business more properly begins.
For he keeps the Lord’s watch in the night against the adversary.
For he counteracts the powers of darkness by his electrical skin and glaring eyes.
For he counteracts the Devil, who is death, by brisking about the life.
For in his morning orisons he loves the sun and the sun loves him.
