vintage wordless wednesday redux

i can't even remember how long I've owned this!

jeremy bentham chats on cats....and a pig

thanks british library flickr (PD)

Remember me noting yesterday how Jeremy Bentham seems to have been a great source of copy?  Here's what purports to be an account of the gentleman talking as he pleases, and what pleases him is recalling cats - and one particular swine:

'I had a cat,' he said, ' at Hendon, which used to follow me about even in the street. George Wilson was very fond of animals too. I remember a cat following him as far as Staines. There was a beautiful pig at Hendon, which I used to rub with my stick. He loved to come and lie down to be rubbed, and took to following me like a dog. . . From my youth I was fond of cats, as I am still. I was once playing with one in my grandmother's room. I had heard the story of cats having nine lives, and being sure of falling on their legs ; and I threw the cat out of the window on the grass-plot. When it fell it turned towards me, looked in my face and mewed. "Poor thing!" I said, "thou art reproaching me with my unkindness." I have a distinct recollection of all these things. Cowper's story of his hares had the highest interest for me when young; for I always enjoyed the society of tame animals. Wilson had the same taste so had Romilly, who kept a noble puss, before he came into great business. I never failed to pay it my respects. I remember accusing Romilly of violating the commandment in the matter of cats. My fondness for animals exposed me to many jokes.'

It must have been quite a project to keep up with his conversation.  George Wilson was a close frend of Bentham's; Samuel Romilly was a fellow legal reformer.  Again from White, Adam, 1817-1879. Heads And Tales, Or, Anecdotes And Stories of Quadrupeds And Other Beasts Chiefly Connected With Incidents In the Histories of More Or Less Distinguished Men. London: J. Nisbet, 1870. pp. 151-52.

jeremy bentham's cat, sir john langborn

I've spoken in passing about Jeremy Bentham and that his cat was named Sir John Langborn. But until recently, that's all I knew about that worthy animal.  I've found more of his story now, and I'm giving it to you in turn:

Bentham was very fond of animals, particularly 'pussies' as he called them, 'when they had domestic virtues;' but he had no particular affection for the common race of cats. He had one, however, of which he used to boast that he had 'made a man of him,' and whom he was wont to invite to eat maccaroni at his own table. This puss got knighted, and rejoiced in the name of Sir John Langborn. In his early days, he was a frisky, inconsiderate, and, to say the truth, somewhat profligate gentleman; and had, according to the report of his patron, the habit of seducing light and giddy young ladies of his own race into the garden of Queen's Square Place; but tired at last, like Solomon, of pleasures
and vanities, he became sedate and thoughtful took to the church, laid down his knightly title, and was installed as the Reverend John Langborn. He gradually obtained a great reputation for sanctity and learning, and a doctor's degree was conferred upon him. When I knew him, in his declining days, he bore no other name than the Reverend Doctor John Langborn; and he was alike conspicuous for his gravity and philosophy. Great respect was invariably shown his reverence; and it was supposed he was not far off from a mitre, when old age interfered with his hopes and honours. He departed amidst the regrets of his many friends, and was gathered to his fathers, and to eternal rest, in a cemetery in Milton's Garden (- Bentham lived in a house that had belonged to the poet Milton - curator).

So: the cat ate noodles at the table, was knighted, and eventually went into the Church. Good for Sir John Langborn. From White, Adam, 1817-1879. Heads And Tales, Or, Anecdotes And Stories of Quadrupeds And Other Beasts Chiefly Connected With Incidents In the Histories of More Or Less Distinguished Men. London: J. Nisbet, 1870. pp. 150-51.

There's another bit of chat from Jeremy Bentham (the man was a fountain of good material) that I'll share with you tomorrow for its sheer entertainment value.

marengo rides again

Antoine-Jean Gros [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

He seems such a gentle little grey creature to carry so much history.  This is Marengo, Napoleon's warhorse, captured by the British on the battlefield of Waterloo.  He outlived Napoleon by ten years, and seems to have been very well treated by his captors (is that how to think of it still?) in that time.  Upon his passing his skeleton was placed in the National Army Museum till a recent stay at the Natural History Museum.  You might call it a bit of a spa retreat:  Marengo's bones were in need of cleaning, his stance needing perking up, and his mounting hardware needed updating.
If you'd like to see a bit of how that was done, have a look at this page over at the Natural History Museum in London.  The National Army Museum also has a detailed account of Marengo's conservation adventure here, but just a note - there is a large closeup of his skull at the top of the page, if you need to steel yourself for that.  I found his skull interesting in its delicacy, and could see he must indeed have been a handsome fellow.

wordless vintage wednesday redux

formerly in my collection, gave away as a gift!

gainsborough's dogs

british librry flickr

In the following anecdote, the painter Thomas Gainsborough (1727-88) and his wife Margaret use the family dogs as intermediaries when domestic quarrels arise.  I could wish Margaret's spaniel had spoken up less submissively, but (sigh) we are talking about 18th-century England.
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GAINSBOROUGH AND HIS WIFE AND THEIR DOGS.

Thomas Gainsborough, the rival of Sir Joshua in portraiture, wanted that evenness of temper which the President of the Royal Academy so abundantly possessed. He was easily angered, but as soon appeased, and says his biographer, "If he was the first to offend, he was the first to atone. Whenever he spoke crossly to his wife, a remarkably sweet-tempered woman, he would write a note of repentance, sign it with the name of his favourite dog 'Fox' and address it to his Margaret's pet spaniel, 'Tristram.' Fox would take the note in his mouth, and duly deliver it to Tristram. Margaret would then answer 'My own dear Fox, you are always loving and good, and I am a naughty little female ever to worry you, as I too often do, so we will kiss and say no more about it; your own affectionate Tris.'" The writers of such a correspondence could not have led what is called "a cat and dog life." Husbands and wives might derive a hint from this anecdote; for we know, from the old ballad, that they will be sulky and quarrel at times even about getting "Up to bar the door!"

***

From a collection of animal anecdotes with a name I find pretty funny:

White, Adam, 1817-1879. Heads And Tales, Or, Anecdotes And Stories of Quadrupeds And Other Beasts Chiefly Connected With Incidents In the Histories of More Or Less Distinguished Men. London: J. Nisbet, 1870. pp. 100-101.

tombili, and other monuments

By Nevit (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0
(http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Today - after a wonderful minivacation that took me away from the Museum (sorry readers! not sorry) - I find Hyperallergic has a much better post than anything I could offer you today. Dating from October 2016, it's "A Tour of Meownuments to the World’s Most Pawesome Cats," and there are feline institutions included about which even I, your friendly Curator, knew nothing. Included: Istanbul's own Tombili, whose statue seems often to be given refreshment and gifts.  As it should be.

cat of liberty

http://catalogue.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/cb40295786c  (PD) c. 1777-1824

That's what the caption to this intense feline portrait says: "Chat de la liberte," adding "D'apres nature" (from life).  Why does this cat embody liberty?  It seems only Jean-Jacques Lequeu, its illustrator, knew.  Lequeu was an architect and draughtsman in the days leading up to the French Revolution, specializing in visionary, impractical, even eccentric building plans.  He also created a number of more domestic drawings, such as the one above (and a number of pornographic ones).
Lequeu, I think, was one of those people who lives keenly for a particular time and place, and never quite recalibrates afterward.  Post-Revolution, he became a civil servant instead of an architect.