Tag: cats

“Unsuspected Cat”

On By kittycalashIn Clothing, History, Museums4 Comments

Squatting plump on an unsuspected cat in your chair!! George Cruikshank [1800]. Lewis Walpole Library, Image ID lwlpr09721 Call Number 800.00.00.176+

The Lewis Walpole Library provides endless amusement, and searching by subject yields some fun. People have had curious relationships with domestic pets for a centuries, and thank goodness cats invented the interwebs so we could get real perspective on this.

Quite aside from the minor domestic comedy of this engraving (I dislike the dark of winter and take my fun where I can), we can learn a lot. The domestic comedy itself helps remind us that while the people of the past saw the world differently, they were as foolish, bawdy and rude (or more so) than we are.

From a material culture perspective, we have (among many things):

  • a geometrically-patterned floor covering, probably a carpet but possibly painted.
  • floor-length curtains
  • looking glasses, paired
  • a slip-covered easy chair, matching the curtains and the cat’s cushion
  • two candles (only two!)
  • glasses with the characteristic straight temple pieces that end in loops
  • a colored open robe over a white muslin petticoat
  • a young gentleman in trousers, an old gentleman in breeches

I can imagine this depicting Emma and Mr Knightley (after their marriage) at home after dinner with her father and their young son: Mr Woodhouse in his nightcap and banyan, reading; Mr Knightley upset by the cat, while the Spaniel barks at the excitement.  All in all, highly satisfying.

Found: Limits

On By kittycalashIn Events, Fail, Living History3 Comments


I try to have good sense, but I am sometimes overwhelmed by my intentions. On Saturday, I was supposed to go up to Boston to the Paul Revere House, and I was planning to take the train. It’s an easy trip between the commuter rail and the Orange Line, followed by a short walk. How hard is that?

Too hard, it seems. I’m not sure how it happened, but I missed the commuter train, and made it to Smith and Canal just in time to see the train pulling away from the platform. Regular work day? Forget 11:20, try 11:23. You have a cushion. Weekend? Those trains run right on time, but still about 90 minutes apart, which means missing the train will make you three hours late for a three hour event, and then you are not “really reliable and right on time.” The guys had the car for the day, so it was train or nothing.

I had a period lunch, and planned to take my stool. I had shirts-in-progress packed into a knapsack along with documents about what garments soldiers were issued, the average cost of those garments, as well as a finished blue check shirt typical of those worn by New England men in the last quarter of the 18th century. I’d re-read the The Needles’ Eye, and was prepared to talk about the difference between seamstresses, tailors, mantua makers and milliners.

Take some time to snooze under the sofa– Mr Whiskers

Instead, I went back home and slept most of the afternoon. Mr Whiskers had the right idea, as usual.  You cannot burn the tallow candle at both ends while the farm cat gnaws the middle. I feel bad about missing that train, but I think I’ve learned my limits. At least for this month.