Ode on the Death of a Favourite Cat

I mentioned in my Horace Walpole post that I'd picked up a copy of Horace Walpole's Cat by Christopher Frayling, which has turned out to be a very elegantly written, very entertaining, read (see left). For those who don't know the story, some time in 1747, poor Selima the cat, who lived with Horace Walpole at his home in Arlington Street (this was before he moved to his gothic mansion, Strawberry Hill), got up on the rim of a large Chinese porcelain tub containing goldfish, fell in, and drowned.

Walpole was, understandably, upset and wrote to his close friend, the poet Thomas Gray, asking if he would compose some sort of epitaph for the unfortunate creature. Gray replied saying that he couldn't begin to grieve properly until he knew which cat Walpole was referring to (his other cat was called either Zara, after the heroine of Voltaire's The Tragedy of Zara or Zama, nobody seems sure which). Once the identity of the cat had been cleared up, Gray enclosed the first draft of the poem that would become Ode on the Death of a Favourite Cat (see full text below). 'There's a poem for you,' said Gray, 'it is rather too long for an epitaph'.

Apart from Frayling's expert biographical slant on the poem and his analysis of it in terms of 18th-century culture, another joy of Horace Walpole's Catare the huge reproductions of Richard Bentley's quite wonderful engravings. There's a full reprint of Bentley's (pictured left) explanation of his Frontispiece which just as much of a mock-heroic masterpiece as the poem itself. Witness 'the cat standing on the brim of the tub... Two cariatides of a river god stopping his ears to her cries, and Destiny cutting the nine threads of life... At the bottom are mice enjoying themselves on the prospect of the cat's death; a lyre and a pallet.' Fantastic stuff.

Ode on the Death of a Favourite Cat,

Drowned in a Tub of Gold Fishes.

I.

'TWAS on a lofty vase's side,

Where China's gayest art had dy'd

The azure flowers, that blow;

Demurest of the tabby kind,

The pensive Selima reclin'd,

Gaz'd on the lake below.

II.

Her conscious tail her joy declar'd;

The fair round face, the snowy beard,

The velvet of her paws,

Her coat, that with the tortoise vies,

Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes,

She saw, and purr'd applause.

III.

Still had she gaz'd: but 'midst the tide

Two angel forms were seen to glide,

The Genii of the stream:

Their scaly armour's Tyrian hue

Thro' richest purple, to the view

Betray'd a golden gleam.

IV.

The hapless Nymph with wonder saw:

A whisker first, and then a claw,

With many an ardent wish,

She stretch'd in vain to reach the prize.

What female heart can gold despise?

What cat's averse to fish?

V.

Presumptuous Maid! with looks intent

Again she stretch'd, again she bent,

Nor knew the gulph between.

(Malignant Fate sat by, and smil'd)

The slipp'ry verge her feet beguil'd,

She tumbled headlong in.

VI.

Eight times emerging from the flood

She mew'd to ev'ry watery God,

Some speedy aid to send.

No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirr'd:

Nor cruel Tom, or Susan heard.

A fav'rite has no friend!

VII.

From hence, ye Beauties, undeceiv'd,

Know, one false step is ne'er retriev'd,

And be with caution bold.

Not all that tempts your wand'ring eyes

And heedless hearts, is lawful prize;

Nor all, that glisters, gold.

PS: Horace Walpole's Catalso explores Christopher Smart's For I Will Consider My Cat Jeoffry as well as Dr Johnson and his cats; follow the links above to see previous blog posts from me on these topics. And the cat in the frame, above, is my own cat, Boris.

Photographs © Memoirs of the Celebrated Mrs Woffington except the engraving of the Richard Bentley portrait, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.
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English Eccentrics

With Horace Walpole's gothic mansion Strawberry Hill almost ready to reopen after the completion of its £9 million restoration project, the V&A in London is currently staging an exhibition of some of Walpole's most treasured objects.

Apart from his tireless activities as a politician, man of letters and waspish social commentator, Walpole was a keen antiquarian and collector; Horace Walpole and Strawberry Hill (running until Jul 4) offers a tantalising sneak preview into his considerable collection of paintings, ceramics, miniatures and curiosities, as well as some personal possessions related to Strawberry Hill itself.

It's the first major exhibition on Walpole and a welcome look at his contribution to many different spheres of 18th-century society. His 'little gothic castle' (pictured below), which stands beside the Thames at Twickenham, and his outstanding collection of antiquities, became a tourist destination even during his own lifetime. Here we can see exquisite entrance tickets (printed at Walpole's private press) on which he has scrawled directions to the servants; nearby are several sketches by Rowlandson satirising the public obsession with antiquity, as symbolised by Strawberry Hill.

Other notable exhibits include the famous bust of Colley Cibber and the actual goldfish bowl into which Walpole's tabby cat, Selima, fell and drowned in 1747 (thus inspiring Gray's famous Ode On The Death Of A Favourite Cat Drowned In A Tub Of Goldfishes). Many objects are testament to Walpole's playful humour and imagination; we learn that when greeting some French guests Walpole delved into his collection and donned a pair of James I's gloves and a fake wooden cravat by Grinling Gibbons - the guests were too polite to say anything, imagining that this was simply an example of English eccentricity (both gloves and cravat are on display).

Being on the search for a decent collection of Walpole's letters I was a bit disappointed with the offering in the V&A shop, though Horace Walpole's Cat by Christopher Frayling has turned out to be a joy, skilfully using the stories of Walpole's pets (including two hapless dogs who met grisly deaths on the Grand Tour) to illuminate aspects of 18th-century culture. And if all this isn't encouragement enough, pick up the free exhibition guide and you get a voucher on the back page offering 2 for 1 entrance into Strawberry Hill when it opens on September 25 2010. What are you waiting for?

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In Search of Mrs Woffington (Part 1)

As this Sunday marks Peg Woffington's birthday, it's about time that I blogged about the several research trips we've done in search of the elusive actress.

I've blogged before about the trip we did to the Garrick Temple at Hampton, but I haven't yet uploaded my photographs of nearby Teddington, which was also on our historical hit-list that day, being the location of Mrs Woffington's villa, and the place where she settled in the last years of her life.

According to Janet Camden Lucy's Lovely Peggy (which, despite the whimsical title, is the only really scholarly biography of Peg Woffington), the burial register confirms that Mrs Woffington died in London, but her request to be buried in Teddington suggests a strong affection for the place.


In the 18th century, Teddington - a riverside village between Strawberry Hill (where Horace Walpole had his gothic castle) and Hampton Wick - was a fashionable summer retreat for wealthy Londoners. Peg's villa was said to have been built by Sir Charles Duncombe at the start of the century and it was known as Teddington Place House until 1851, when the name seems to have been changed to Udney Hall.

Demolished in 1946, it must have been an impressive residence, with ceilings painted by Verrio and panelling by Grinling Gibbons. It stood in what is today Udney Park Gardens (above), adjacent to St Albans Church, and I had expected the site to be right on the banks of the Thames (much like Pope's villa in nearby Twickenham), but it could be that the course of the Thames has changed slightly over the years.


We also spent some time picking our way through autumnal leaves and cobwebs in the graveyard of Teddington's parish church, St Mary with St Alban, before realising that Woffington's memorial tablet (above) is actually inside the church, just within the north chancel arch. It describes her as a 'spinster, Born Oct. 18th 1720' and informs us that an infant nephew, 'Master Horace Cholmondeley, aged 6 months' lies in the same tomb.

Local legend says that Woffington also endowed some almshouses, long known as Woffington Cottages on the High Street, two of which were tea rooms for a while, though now closed. The church is also connected with another 18th-century luminary, Dr Stephen Hales - inventor of the surgical forceps - who was Perpetual Curate from 1709 to 1761.

Part 2: Mrs Woffington's childhood in Dublin.

Top: Margaret Woffington by JB Vanloo, c. 1742
Other photographs © Memoirs of the Celebrated Mrs Woffington.

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