Title page to Emily M. Madddon's sketchbook containing numerous pencil and ink drawings concerning the adventures of Mouton the Cat and other animals, 1859
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Every time a new cat comes into a writer’s house there follows an agony of naming, because the title of one’s cat refracts one’s creativity with an undeniable shine.
Anyone with a cat to name may find inspiration in the following illustrious choices. Every cat owner faces this problem. On the subject of literary prowess, Samuel Butler declared, ‘They say the test of this is whether a man can write an inscription. I say, “Can he name a kitten?”’
T.S. Eliot observed that cats should have three names: an everyday one, something rather more grand and then the name that the cat has for himself. Michael Joseph concurred, adding that ‘there are times when nothing less than full ceremonial titles will serve’. His own cats were called Minna Minna Mowbray and Charles O’Malley. And the kind mistress of Pussy Meow, the eponymous heroine of a feline autobiography ghostwritten by S. Louise Patteson in 1901, was also emphatic on that point: ‘A cat should have a name, because it adds to her dignity, and commands respect for her.’ Pussy Meow herself confirmed it: ‘Let me tell you, a cat with a respectable name feels a sense of dignity and self-respect that is impossible to one only known by the general name of “kitty”.’
Mark Twain perhaps took the process a little too far, giving his cats titles like ‘Blatherskite’ and ‘Apollinaris’. He facetiously claimed that some of these cats died early ‘on account of being so overweighted with their names’.
Here’s a highly edited list of historical cat devotees and the names they chose for their muses.
Matthew Arnold: his imperious cat was called Atossa and appeared in his poem ‘Matthias’.
Jules Barbey D’Aurevilly: Démonette, ‘eyes of gold on black velvet’, her son Spirito, and Grifette.
Oswald Barron: James (‘that sort of cat to whom adventure calls’) and Pippa.
A
funeral procession of elderly women with cats in their arms, following the
coffin of a dead cat, in a churchyard. Coloured stipple engraving by J. Pettit
after E.G. Byron, 1789.
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Jeremy Bentham: Sir John Langborn, who in his early days was something of a rake. But he reformed. Over time the cat’s increased dignity was reflected in his name, which became The Reverend Sir John Langborn, D.D. (Doctor of Divinity). The cat dined at table and was eventually buried in John Milton’s garden.
The Duchess of Béthune: Dom Gris, who exchanged much flirtatious correspondence with Grisette, belonging to Antoinette Deshoulières (see below).
Alexander Borodin’s dinner table was always overrun with cats, particularly Dlinyenki (‘Longy’), a tabby, and Rybolov (‘fisherman’).
Joseph Boulmier: Gaspard and Coquette, to each of whom the poet dedicated villanelles.
Frances Hodgson Burnett: Dora, who warmed her mistress while she wrote her first stories, and Dick, who was exhibited at the first
George Gordon, Lord Byron: Beppo, one of five cats who travelled with the poet.
Monsignore Capecelatro, Archbishop of Taranto: Pantalone, Desdemona, Otello, among others, who were accustomed to join him at the dinner table, where they had their own chairs.
Karel Čapek, author of some of the finest essays on cats’ soul-dominance over man: Pudlenka I, II and III. Pudlenka I appeared on the author’s doorstep the day his tomcat died and had 26 kittens in her lifetime. Pudlenka II had 21.
Cats
in human dress playing a variety of games, including arm wrestling and tug of
war. Colour woodcut by Kunimasa IV, 1870s.
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Chang T’uan: Eastern Guard, White
François René Chateaubriand: Micetto, once the cat of Pope Leo XII. Chateaubriand said of him, ‘I endeavour to soften his exile, and help him to forget the Sistine Chapel, and the vast dome of Saint Angelo, where far from earth, he was wont to take his daily promenade.’
Emperor Chu Hou-Tsung of
Winston Churchill: Blackie, Bob, Jock, Margate, Mr Cat aka Tango and Nelson, a black cat who sat in a chair next to Churchill in both the Cabinet and dining room. Churchill once offended one of his cats by shouting at it. The cat disappeared. Churchill had a sign put in his window that read ‘Cat, come home, all is forgiven’. The returning cat was rewarded with a luxurious supper.
Colette: Franchette, Kapok, Kiki-la-Doucette, Kro, La Chatte, La Chatte Dernière, La Touteu, Mini-mini, Minionne, Muscat, One and Only, Petiteu, Pinichette and Zwerg.
François Edouard Joachim Coppée: Bourget (‘Zézé’), a huge cat who lived to be more than 20 years old, Loulou, a Portuguese angora, and Mistigris, a cat remarkable for his epic appetite.
Georges Courteline (G. Moineaux): Le Purotin de la rue du Ruisseau, Charles Scherer, alias l’Infâme, also alias la Terreur de Clignancourt, la Mère dissipée, le Petit Turbulent, and Le Rouquin de Montmartre. The satirical playwright was a cat lover from babyhood.
Erasmus Darwin: Persian Snow, who enjoyed a correspondence with Po Felina, the cat of his friend and biographer Anna Seward.
A
cat's face. Etching by W Hollar, 1646.
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Antoinette Deshoulières: Grisette, Mimy, Marmuse. Deshoulières wrote more than a dozen poems to her cats. She also ‘helped’ Grisette to conduct a poetic correspondence with Cochon, the Duke of Vivonne’s dog; Tata, the cat of the Marquis of Montgras, Dom Gris, the cat of the Duchess of Béthune, and Mittin, the cat of Rosalie Bocquet. Madame Deshoulières also wrote a play, La Mort de Cochon, about the immortal love of Grisette for her deceased canine lover. In the play Grisette refuses to be consoled by an army of feline suitors.
Charles Dickens: Williamina, called William until she bore kittens, which she insisted on moving into Dickens’ study. One was kept and known respectfully as ‘The Master’s Cat’. She would snuff out his reading candle with her paw in order to obtain his attention.
Alexandre Dumas: Mysouff I and II, Le Docteur. The first Mysouff, according to his adoring owner, was a clairvoyant and could tell the time. The second one broke into the writer’s aviary and consumed 500 francs’ worth of tropical birds.
Anatole
Théophile Gautier: Childebrand, Madame Théophile, Don Pierrot de Navarre, Séraphita, Eponine, Zuleika, Zulema, Zobeide, Gavroche, Enjolras, Zizi, Cléo
A
group of cats giving a concert. Reproduction, ca 1817,
of an etching after P
Breughel.
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Edmund Gosse: the domineering Caruso and Buchanan. According to Osbert Sitwell, ‘Buchanan was … a proud cat, and would never consent to come up to tea unless called or carried by his master in person. Moreover, to secure his continued attendance, he had to be bribed with a saucer of milk, first poured out by Mrs Gosse, and then served to him by her in a kneeling position …’
Thomas Hardy: Cobby, his second cat. It is rumoured that this cat devoured Hardy’s heart, when it was about to be buried, as the writer had requested, in a grave with his wife. It was to his first cat that he dedicated his heart-rending poem ‘Last Words to a Dumb Friend’.
Lafcadio Hearn: Tama, a tortoiseshell.
Augustus Hare:
Ernst Hoffmann: Murr, to whom
the German writer and composer attributed authorship of the book Murr the
Cat and his Views on Life. Murr modestly prefaces the volume as follows:
‘With the quiet confidence that naturally belongs to true genius, I entrust my
Biography to the world; that it may learn how a Great Cat is bred and
educated.’
Mary Hoffman:
Fluffy (don't judge her; she was
only five. He later became P. Flower Esq.); Rasselas (he was an Abyssinian of
course); Ferrex and Porrex (Gorbaduc); Kulfi, Kichri; Lorenzo, Lonza (Dante)
and Lila (from Messaien's Turangalila symphony). Kulfi's kittens were: Kofta, Korma, Kishmish, Kaju and
Kichri. Thomas Hood: Scratchaway, Sootikins and Pepperpot, offspring of Tabitha Longclaws Tiddleywink.
Victor Hugo: Gavroche, also called Chanoine.
Joris Karl Huysmans: Barre-de-Rouille, Mouche.
Gertrude Jekyll: Pinkieboy, Tittlebat, Toozle, Octavius and many others. The famous garden designer always had up to eight cats at a time.
Gwen John: Edgar Quinet, a tortoiseshell often painted by the artist. When he disappeared she went to quite extraordinary lengths to try to find him.
Samuel Johnson: Lily and Hodge. In his finicky old age Hodge regularly dined on oysters. Johnson would go out to purchase these delicacies himself in case the servants, encumbered with this chore, took against his beloved cat. His biographer James Boswell was afraid of cats and suffered greatly from Hodge’s presence when he interviewed Johnson. Hodge is immortalized in a statue outside Johnson’s house in
Paul de Kock: Frontin – the kind of cat, the novelist declared, ‘he would not give up for his weight in gold’. De Kock was well known as a great cat lover. Whenever his neighbours found a stray cat they just tossed the animal over the garden wall to join the huge family already living there. He is described by Carl Van Vechten as ‘a true félinophile enragé’.
Andrew Lang: Mr Toby, a black cat, Gyp, a notorious thief, and Master of Gray, a Persian.
Edward Lear: Foss. Lear’s tabby cat was immortalized in poems, limericks and drawings. It was said that when Lear built a new villa in
Pierre Loti: Moumoutte
Blanche, a black and white angora, and Moumoutte Chinoise, a stowaway kitten
from China both appeared in Vies de Deux Chattes. Loti also wrote Un Bête Galeuse about a mortally ill cat
to whom he administered euthanasia. Other Loti pets were called Le Chat, Ratonne and Berlaud. Loti
printed visiting cards for his esteemed felines: ‘Madame Moumoutte, white, the
foremost cat of Monsieur Pierre
Loti, 141 Rue Chanzy, Rochefort-sur-Mer’.
Stéphane Mallarmé: Lilith, a black cat; Neige, a white angora and her son Frimas.
Catulle Mendès: Mime, Fafner, Fasolt. According to the French poet, after Mime was neutered, he became depressed and committed suicide by jumping off the roof. Mendès took his own life some time later.
Gottfried Mind, Swiss artist, known as the ‘Raphael of cats’: Minette, whom he saved from a cull of cats during a rabies epidemic in his nativeBern
in 1809. He not only painted cats but sculpted them out of chestnuts.
William Nicholson: Frou-frou, Black, Castlerosse and The Girl. The versatile artist also made portraits of Winston Churchill’s marmalade tom.
Florence Nightingale: Bismarck, a large Persian; Disraeli and
Gladstone. Nightingale owned more than 60 cats during her lifetime.
Stéphane Mallarmé: Lilith, a black cat; Neige, a white angora and her son Frimas.
Catulle Mendès: Mime, Fafner, Fasolt. According to the French poet, after Mime was neutered, he became depressed and committed suicide by jumping off the roof. Mendès took his own life some time later.
Gottfried Mind, Swiss artist, known as the ‘Raphael of cats’: Minette, whom he saved from a cull of cats during a rabies epidemic in his native
William Nicholson: Frou-frou, Black, Castlerosse and The Girl. The versatile artist also made portraits of Winston Churchill’s marmalade tom.
Agnes Repplier: Agrippina.
The author dedicated The Fireside Sphinx
(1901) to her. Other cats included Lux, Banquo, Banshee, Carl and Nero.
Cardinal Armand Jean
Duplessis Richelieu: Racan, Perruque, Rubis sur l’Ongle, Gazette, Félimare, who
was striped like a tiger, Lucifer, a jet black cat, Ludovic le Cruel, a savage
rat-catcher, Ludoviska, a Polish cat, Mimie-Paillon, an angora, Mounard le
Fougueux, described as ‘quarrelsome, capricious and worldly’, Pyrame and
Thisbe, named after the mythological lovers because they slept together with
their paws entwined, Serpolet, who was fond of sunning himself in the window,
and Soumise, Richelieu’s favourite. Richelieu
was a great cat lover and enjoyed playing with them. He even had one of the
rooms in his house made into a cattery for them. He entrusted their care to
specially employed servants, Abel and Teyssandier, who came to feed them twice
a day with pâtés made from the best chicken meat. In his will, he left a
pension for his 14 surviving cats, so that the servants could continue to look
after them.
Theodore Roosevelt: Slippers,
Tom Quartz. The American president doted on Slippers and once obliged a group
of VIPS visiting the White House to make a detour around the sleeping animal.
Christina Rossetti:
Grimalkin, the subject of her moving poem ‘On the Death of a Cat’, written when
she was only 16 years old.
George Sand: Minou. Sand ate her breakfast from the same bowl as Minou.
Domenico Scarlatti:
Pulcinella – she inspired ‘The Cat’s Fugue’ as she liked to walk up and down on
the composer’s keyboard.
Albert Schweitzer: Sizi. The
German doctor taught himself to write with his right hand, because Sizi
preferred to fall asleep on his left arm, thereby preventing the doctor from
writing prescriptions for his pat ients.
Robert Southey: His Serene
Highness, the Most Noble the Archduke Rumpelstilzchen, Marquis Macbum, Earl
Tomlemange, Baron Raticide, Waowlher and Skaratch (a single cat!),
Hurlyburlypuss, Lord Nelson (later Baron, Viscount and Earl), Sir Thomas Dido,
Madame Catalini, Bona Marietta, Bona Fidelia, Madame Bianchi, Pulcheria, Ovid,
Virgil, Othello, the Zombi, Prester John (who had to be rechris tened Pope Joan), William Rufus and Danayr le
Roux. Southey chronicled their lives in a charming memoir. His son observed:
‘It was not a little amusing to see a kitten answer to the name of some Italian
singer or Indian chief, or hero of a German fairy tale, and often names and
titles were heaped one upon another, till the possessor, unconscious of the
honour conveyed, used to “set up his eyes and look” in wonderment.’
Carmen Sylva (Queen Elizabeth
of Rumania): Misikatz, Diddelchen, Müffchen, Püffchen, Vulpi, Lilliput, Frätzibutzi
(official name Freiherr Fratz von dem Katzenbuckel).
Mary Eleanor Bowes, later Countess of Strathmore: Jacintha, Angelica, Pasiphae, Bambino. Her cats were always referred to as her ‘blessed angels’.
Hippolyte Taine: Puss, Ebène
and Mitonne, to whom he wrote 12 sonnets.
Booth Tarkington: Gypsy
(‘half broncho and half Malay pirate’).
William Makepeace Thackeray:
Louisa.
Mark Twain (Samuel Langhorne
Clemens): Sour Mash, Apollinaris, Zoroaster, Sin, Buffalo Bill, Beezelbub,
Tammany and Blatherskite (‘names given them, not in an unfriendly spirit, but
merely to practise the children in large and difficult styles of
pronunciation’). Twain could not live without a cat for company. When he went
to spend a summer in New Hampshire
he decided that rather than adopt a stray that would be left to its own devices
after he returned home, he would ‘rent’ a cat. In fact he rented two, Sackcloth
and Ashes.
Horace Walpole: Selima – a
tortoiseshell tabby whose sad end inspired Thomas Gray’s poem ‘Ode on the Death
of a Favourite Cat Drowned in a Tub of Gold Fishes’ (1748); Zara, Patapan,
Harold and Fatima.
Charles Dudley Warner: Calvin, originally Harriet Beecher Stowe’s cat. She gave him to the Warner family when she moved toFlorida .
The cat, named for his ‘gravity, morality, and uprightness’, was the subject of
an exquisitely written essay by Warner: ‘Calvin, A Study of Character’.
Charles Dudley Warner: Calvin, originally Harriet Beecher Stowe’s cat. She gave him to the Warner family when she moved to
H.G. Wells: Mr Peter Wells
Michelle Lovric's latest novel, The True & Splendid History of the Harristown Sisters, is published by Bloomsbury. It features one cat.
Some of the cats in her other books:
Sofonisba, Bestard-Belou, Albicocco, Brolo and Talina, a part-time cat.
Michelle Lovric's most recent cats are Gamoush, Possum, Rose La Touche of Harristown, Mu and Caramella, otherwise known as Unholy Sausage.
History Girls with cats are invited to share their naming skills below.
Super post Michelle.
ReplyDeleteI am afraid that when I had cats they had rather ordinary names. Jasper - I mean how imaginative is that (not), but named for his variegated coat and it was a pun on the French 'J'espere' (sp) meaning 'I hope' because he was a very hopeful cat when it came to mealtimes. Our black and white female cat was called Dottie but had an LB warning by her name at the vets. This stood for 'Little Bugger' We were told she didn't get the gold medal for the worst cat they had ever had to treat but she was worthy of the silver! We now have three feisty terriers so cats are out for a while, but may return in the fullness of time.
Incidentally as a 'did you know.' All medieval creatures had names and cat were either Gilbert or Thibault (later to become Tibbles). That particular quirk still lives on in Robin Readbreast and Jenney Wren as a couple of examples.
I am probably the only History Girl who does not get terribly excited by cats (or dogs) but even I ADORED this post. The only thing missing is a picture of YOUR fab cat in his/her natural environment as glimpsed by some of us at the epic History Girls tea party last week!
ReplyDeleteA lovely, enjoyable post, Michelle - but I can't say I share the enthusiasm for coming up with quirky names.
ReplyDeleteI agree with Pratchett's Granny Weatherwax, who doesn't bother to name her goats because 'they have their own names, in goat.'#
My grandfather had a long series of cats - one used to wait for him to come home from work by sitting on top of a high wall. As Grandad passed underneath, the cat jumped down on his shoulder and rode him home. I don't know if this cat was Bill, Joe, Tom, Bob or Sam. All his cats had short. ordinary names like this.
My own family had a grey tabby which we called Stripey; a ginger tabby we called Ginger, and a black and white cat we called - have a guess - Black and White. Well, they had their own names in cat.
The cat love of my life - the cat you lit a candle for, Michelle, and thank you - was called Biffo, but he came pre-named. A former human companion (he had three) had named him after The Beano's boxing bear because he used to sit up on his hindquarters and punch other cats with his forepaws. So it was just another nickname that stuck.
Lovely post Michelle - one of the things I loved about Southey was his flock of cats!
ReplyDeleteMine is appropriately (since I'm called Kathy) named Heathcliff. And he is suitably aloof and inscrutable, though very attached to his owner. He's an old gentleman now, but quite wild in his youth.
What an excellent collection of cats!
ReplyDeleteI name mine after characters in fantasy books; I have had Vanyel, Gandalf, Shia, Tazey, Teren, Magrat, Lujan, Arakasi, and Kyra. The current incumbents are Severus, Beric, and Margolotta.
(Incidentally, Horace Walpole's Patapan was not a cat, but a dog; he was fond of lapdogs as well as cats.)
Of course I approve of the careful naming of cats!
ReplyDeleteBut I think Hodge's oysters were not a delicacy in his day; I believe they were a food of the poor. Still nice of Sam Johnson to get them for him.
Lovely! Our cat was called MIMI after Rosa Luxemburg's cat! Another was TOEY after Toey Tayfield the South African bowler...
ReplyDeleteWhat a fun post, Michelle. Like Caroline Lawrence, I am also not overly fond of cats. I am a doggie girl but, as other HGs have said, this was such a pleasure to read. I was fascinated to hear about the Hemingway six-toe oddity. And did Sands REALLY eat in the same bowl as her cat? Have a lovely Christmas and hope to see you soon Cx
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ReplyDeleteVladimir I. Lenin had around 15-16 cats when he ruled the Soviet Union. This is the only good thing I can say about him; and, I am sorry that I don't know their names. However, there are stories about them lounging on his desk.
ReplyDeleteOur cats have had fairly ordinary names on the whole, but when we acquired tabby siblings Judy and Punch we didn't like their names and re-named them Bonnie and Claude. We currently have Harley, who was named by her previous owner. Harley used to live next door but one to us; in the house between lived an adorable geriatric cat named Bongle.
ReplyDeleteLike Carol, I'm a dog person. But what great names! I rather like Frost Eyebrows - it sounds a bit clunky, but it's very visual.
DeleteWhat a fantastic list - and one to come back to. Funnily enough, we used to have a cat named after Hepzibah in 'The Slave-girl from Jerusalem', so that completes the circle…unfortunately she made life miserable for an older resident, sixteen-year-old Titus (named after the Camberwell solicitor Titus Miranda, but often known as Titus Malitus, in homage to Slinky Malinki) so she now lives in solitary splendour elsewhere. And I've just named a cat in my new book after George Sand's cat Minou - though I did think it was a rather unimaginative name for a writer's cat. May yet change it, but that's the least of my rewriting problems...
ReplyDeleteLovely! I particularly like the martial-arts cats.
ReplyDeleteWe have The Dog Matilda now, but we have had Tiger (inappropriately pre-named, she was black and white like Postman Pat's cat); Santa (claws) and Sasha, Honey (so we could say 'Hi, Honey, I'm home) and Treacle (who was black).
I know it is off-topic to talk about dogs, but when we got Matilda people kept asking if we'd REALLY call her that, or say: 'I suppose you call her Tilly.'
We call her Matilda; she is intelligent enough to know that is her name.
Joint-locks is what some of the Japanese cats are doing, I think. Particularly the pair where paws are linked and one has a pained look on its face. I have forgotten the Chinese name for it, but it is part of aikido, and is the ultimate trust exercise, as too much pressure can break bones. The Tokyo police use it to subdue people. I do it, very gently, with my taiji teacher as she says the pressure when lightly applied is good for the joints..
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