For I Will Consider My Cat Jeoffry

An excerpt from a very strange poem (written c.late 1750s/early 1760s but not published until 1939) called Jubilate Agno by Christopher Smart. Smart was a satirist and friend to Johnson and Fielding; the poem below was at least partly written during his confinement in a mental asylum, where his father-in-law had sent him because of his supposed religious mania. Johnson defended him, saying: 'I did not think he ought to be shut up. His infirmities were not noxious to society. He insisted on people praying with him; and I'd as lief pray with Kit Smart as anyone else...' During his confinement, Smart was left alone with his cat, whose activities he minutely captured in verse.

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 for his instructions.
For tenthly he goes in quest of food.
For having consider'd God and himself he will consider his neighbour.
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.
For he is of the tribe of Tiger.
For the Cherub Cat is a term of the Angel Tiger.
For he has the subtlety and hissing of a serpent, which in goodness he suppresses.
For he will not do destruction, if he is well-fed, neither will he spit without provocation.
For he purrs in thankfulness, when God tells him he's a good Cat.
For he is an instrument for the children to learn benevolence upon.
For every house is incomplete without him and a blessing is lacking in the spirit.
For the Lord commanded Moses concerning the cats at the departure of the Children of Israel from Egypt.
For every family had one cat at least in the bag.
For the English Cats are the best in Europe.
For he is the cleanest in the use of his forepaws of any quadruped.
For the dexterity of his defence is an instance of the love of God to him exceedingly.
For he is the quickest to his mark of any creature.
For he is tenacious of his point.
For he is a mixture of gravity and waggery.
For he knows that God is his Saviour.
For there is nothing sweeter than his peace when at rest.
For there is nothing brisker than his life when in motion.
For he is of the Lord's poor and so indeed is he called by benevolence perpetually--Poor Jeoffry! poor Jeoffry! the rat has bit thy throat.
For I bless the name of the Lord Jesus that Jeoffry is better.
For the divine spirit comes about his body to sustain it in complete cat.
For his tongue is exceeding pure so that it has in purity what it wants in music.
For he is docile and can learn certain things.
For he can set up with gravity which is patience upon approbation.
For he can fetch and carry, which is patience in employment.
For he can jump over a stick which is patience upon proof positive.
For he can spraggle upon waggle at the word of command.
For he can jump from an eminence into his master's bosom.
For he can catch the cork and toss it again.
For he is hated by the hypocrite and miser.
For the former is afraid of detection.
For the latter refuses the charge.
For he camels his back to bear the first notion of business.
For he is good to think on, if a man would express himself neatly.
For he made a great figure in Egypt for his signal services.
For he killed the Ichneumon-rat very pernicious by land.
For his ears are so acute that they sting again.
For from this proceeds the passing quickness of his attention.
For by stroking of him I have found out electricity.
For I perceived God's light about him both wax and fire.
For the Electrical fire is the spiritual substance, which God sends from heaven to sustain the bodies both of man and beast.
For God has blessed him in the variety of his movements.
For, tho he cannot fly, he is an excellent clamberer.
For his motions upon the face of the earth are more than any other quadruped.
For he can tread to all the measures upon the music.
For he can swim for life.
For he can creep.

Above: Boris on his favourite chair. Photographs © Memoirs of the Celebrated Mrs Woffington.

 Subscribe now!

Sisterhood Award

I can hardly believe my luck at the moment - yet another plaudit for the blog, and this time from fellow Midlands foodie and journalist, Emily, at Meet and Two Veg. Thank you so much Emily! The rules of the award are:

1. Put the logo on your blog or post.
2. Nominate at least 10 people whose blogs you enjoy.
3. Link to your nominees within your post.
4. Let them know they have received this award by commenting on their blogs.
5. Share the love and link to this post and to the person who has nominated you for the award.

I've nominated quite a few lately, so shall stick to five bloggers whose writing I love, but who haven't yet received an award from me. Not all of them are historical or specifically 18th century - they're just places I love to visit!

Musica & Arte
18th-century Cuisine
The CBSO Weblog
A View From Carmine Superiore
Tea at Trianon

 Subscribe now!

The Grammar of Antiquity

The other day, I was wondering aloud if a building were Greek Revival or not, and no sooner had this come out of my mouth, than my boyfriend was recommending this book (below, which, thanks to our chronic Amazon habit, we ordered pretty much immediately). It was written by John Summerson (who was the curator at the Sir John Soane's Museum until 1984), and is based on six talks he did for the BBC in 1963.

I can see why it's a classic; Summerson has a knack for talking about architecture in an accessible way, and the book covers everything from Palladian architecture to triumphal arches and Roman baths. It's well illustrated and I like the way he uncovers the playful wit behind what look like highly rational buildings (see his discussion of Michaelangelo's vestibule to the Laurentian Library in Florence, which - with its blind windows and retreating columns - is an elaborate architectural joke). There's also a fascinating final chapter where Summerson looks at modernism's classical roots, with reference to such buildings as the Philharmonic Hall in New York's Lincoln Center.

Here he is on the Greek Revival style:

Till the middle of the 18th century Greek architecture was something of a mystery [in England]. Everybody knew that the Romans had got their architecture from the Greeks... But nobody ever went to Greece. It was a long way off; it was part of the Ottoman Empire and neither an easy nor safe place for the Western traveller... The first Greek Doric buildings built in England were built more or less as curiosities, exotic souvenirs, in the form of temples and porches on gentlemen's estates. But about the turn of the century the conviction that the Greek Doric - and Greek Ionic and Greek Corinthian - were in all ways purer and better than their Roman couterparts had won the day, and the Greek Revival proper had started.

Above: The Oratory, Liverpool, built in 1827 by John Foster in the Greek Revival style. Photograph © Memoirs of the Celebrated Mrs Woffington.

Subscribe now!

Word of the Week: Barber-monger

A word of reproach in Shakespeare, which seems to signify a fop; a man decked out by his barber.

Draw, you rogue; for though it be night, the moon shines; I'll make a sop of the moon-shine of you; you whoreson, cullionly, barber-monger, draw.
- Shakespeare's King Lear.

From: Samuel Johnson's Dictionary of the English Language: An Anthology

 Subscribe now!

Angel Croft Hotel

This is Lichfield's Angel Croft Hotel, at one time, the city's very own Fawlty Towers if the reviews are anything to go by, though it's now closed. In the late 18th century, George Addams, a wine merchant, had a house built at 3 Beacon Street - it was turned into the Angel Croft Hotel around 1930.

Last we heard, it had been bought by the Best Western chain, which owns Lichfield's George Hotel, an historic coaching inn where the playwright George Farquhar was supposed to have stayed. The Angel Croft is listed, and the front railings and gates (circa. 1750, see below) are regarded as 'at risk' by English Heritage. A schedule of works has been agreed, but so far, nothing has been done to repair them. Take a good look because, unless the current owner pays them some attention soon, these elegant gates won't be here for very much longer!



Photographs © Memoirs of the Celebrated Mrs Woffington.

 Subscribe now!

A Woman of Considerable Renown

I attended Marion Roberts' talk last night in the Erasmus Darwin House, which was a fascinating insight into Anna Seward and her literary importance in 18th-century Lichfield and beyond. Roberts has been studying Seward (which, she was keen to point out, should be pronounced See-ward) for 20 years, and certainly knows her stuff! See below for some pictures of the exhibition on Seward's life (apologies for the blurring, but only non-flash photography was allowed).




I loved this letter (above right) in which Seward outlined Erasmus Darwin's advice about preventing the total destruction of her teeth. (It made me smile because it confirmed what Professor Peter Martin told us in passing a few weeks ago about Seward's bad teeth). This was displayed alongside copies of her Memoirs of the Life of Dr. Darwin (the open books above left and right).

But perhaps most exciting was this case (below) containing a first edition of Seward's verse novel Louisa alongside a signed letter by the author. You remember I was recently given a first-edition copy of Louisa, which I thought might contain the author's signature (see top)? Well, I was able to take it out and compare it to the letter, and found the signatures to be the same. Marion Roberts also had a look and confirmed it was Seward's handwriting. She also showed me some photographs of an amazing mourning ring that she owns containing a minute lock of Seward's hair, about the size of a fingernail!





Photographs © Memoirs of the Celebrated Mrs Woffington.

 Subscribe now!

Anna Seward and Classic Lichfield

I must say I'm enjoying Anna Seward and Classic Lichfield by Stapleton Martin, despite the scary portrait on the cover (see left).

It was written in 1909 both to commemorate her centenary and to try to raise her profile; as the preface says: 'Literature and music and science have been found this year amazingly prolific in centenary commemorations of their great exemplars... yet the death in 1809 of Anna Seward, who "for many years held a high rank in the annals of British literature," to quote the words of Sir Walter Scott, has generally passed unnoticed.'

The book has been reprinted by Dodo Press this year to mark the 200th anniversary of her death (which is tomorrow), and though the writing style is pretty florid, I've learnt some curious things from it.

Martin doesn't pull his punches; on the subject of Seward's Memoirs Of The Life Of Dr. Darwin he says: '[Her] Memoir she called, "The woman's might in biography". This book... is, nowadays, considered but a poor piece of writing.' Yet many thought her a fine poet; let's not forget that Erasmus Darwin actually nicked her work and passed it off as his own in his poem, the Botanic Garden, an act that Stapleton describes as 'ungallant, to say the least'.

Curiously, Anna's family had several pet names for her, including Nancy and Julia (she was baptised Anne but preferred Anna). Sadly, all of Seward's siblings died in infancy, except one beloved sister, Sarah, who died aged 19, almost on the eve of her marriage to Dr Johnson's son-in-law. There's a monument (pictured here) in Lichfield Cathedral which commemorates Seward, her parents and Sarah. It depicts the poetess mourning her relations while her harp hangs, neglected, on a tree.

The epitaph is by Sir Walter Scott:

Amid these Aisles, where once his precepts showed,
The heavenward pathway which in life he trode,
This simple tablet marks a Father’s bier;
And those he loved in life, in death are near.
For him, for them, a daughter bade it rise,
Memorial of domestic charities.
Still would you know why o’er the marble spread,
In female grace the willow droops her head;
Why on her branches, silent and unstrung,
The minstrel harp, is emblematic hung;
What Poet’s voice is smother’d here in dust,
Till waked to join the chorus of the just;
Lo! one brief line an answer sad supplies—
Honour’d, belov’d, and mourn’d, here Seward lies:
Her worth, her warmth of heart, our sorrows say:
Go seek her genius in her living lay.

There's a free e-version of Stapleton Martin's book here.

 Subscribe now!