Van Amburgh: Animal Trainer or Bully?

Many things interest me- from animal behavior to history. So it was with interest that I came across a reference in a Victorian book to training cats.  The author (Henry Ross) was talking in general terms about the independent nature of cats.

“It must not be inferred, however, that they [cats] are untamable, for every creature is capable…of being trained by man, provided it [the animal] receives due attention.”

This sounds promising – and I went on to read:

“We have sufficient evidence in the feats performed by the lions and tigers of Mr. Carter and Van Amburgh that felines are by no means destitute of intelligent docility.”

Keen to know more, I researched Isaac Van Amburgh, but was horrified by what I read. 

Van Amburgh’s Legend

Born in 1811, Van Amburgh started out from humble origins working as a cage cleaner at the Zoological Institute of New York. He became fascinated by the biblical story of Daniel in the lions’ den and the idea of dominating big cats. Indeed, as he went about his work cleaning out the lions and tigers, his employer noticed the commanding control he had over them.

An animal dealer, Titus, with links to the Zoological Institute saw the potential for a novel act, where a man “tamed” wild animals. In his own words:

“Novelty plus publicity meant money.”

Van Amburgh in his early costume of a Roman toga

Titus’ instincts were correct, and the act that made Van Amburgh a rich man, went from strength to strength. He entered a cage containing a lion, lioness, panther, leopard, leopardess, and a black-maned lion. The animals shrank away from him, such was his commanding presence. Then he reclined and commanded each animal to approach him, one by one, and lick his feet in deference.

“The effect of his power was instantaneous. The Lion halted and stood transfixed. The Tiger crouched. The Panther with a suppressed growl of rage sprang back, while the Leopard receded gradually from its master. The spectators were overwhelmed with wonder .... “

Indeed, Van Amburgh was a sensation not just in America, but in England where he performed for Queen Victoria and Prince Albert. He refined his act, adding in such spectacular feats as putting his head in the lion’s mouth. Victoria, filled with admiration, even commissioned Sir Edwin Landseer to paint Van Amburgh’s portrait. 

Van Amburgh’s Methods

Van Amburgh was a mega-star in his time and his act made him a wealthy man. However his methods were not without controversy, even during his life time, and looking back it has to be said that his training methods were shameful. However, his immoral methods paid off, he earnt a fortune and died a wealthy man safe in his bed.

He regularly beat the animals with an iron bar, and his “training” method was to intimidate the big cats using pain, fear, and hunger. Van Amburgh’s publicity agent  even admitted the lions were starved for days prior to a royal performance, as if this was something to be proud of.

Landseer's portrait of Van Amburgh

In fairness, right-minded Victorians were horrified, but Van Amburgh’s defended his methods by quoting the bible, and Genesis 1:26 saying that God had given man dominion over the animals.

Van Amburgh appears to have been an early proponent of an extreme form of dominance method of training,  so popular in dog obedience circles until it’s debunking in recent years. The physical and mental abuse of animals for human entertainment completely immoral, and beating animals into submission is wholly unacceptable.

Let us hope against hopes that if in the modern age a similar misuse of animals took place for our entertainment, we would not be taken in and object in the strongest terms.

Some Old Sayings about Cats

Some expressions concerning cats are well known, such as “Not enough room to swing a cat”, or “Let the cat out of the bag”, but what of some of the more unusual sayings. 

There were actually a surprising number, although few if any are still in wide parlance, which is a shame judging from the few that I’ve listed below.

“Fain would the Cat fish eat, but she is loth to wet her feet”

In more modern language:

“The cat would eat fish, but will not wet her feet”.

The saying is about wanting the result but not being prepared to put the effort in – a fancy way of saying “No pain, no gain.”

The first written record of this saying goes back to 1380 and Chaucer’s “House of Fame.” The expression seems to have been in wide usage and is mentioned by numerous other authors in the middle ages, and then by Shakespeare

“How can the cat help it if the maid be a fool?”

This is asking a basic question of morality: How can it be stealing if temptation is left in one’s path. So that fish that’s left on the table is asking to be eaten by the cat (without getting her paws wet!) This is an old American saying dating from around 1810, and implies a certain abrogation of personal responsibility.

“A cat always falls on its feet.”

Dating from the early 18^th century, this is a marker of good luck.

 “[He] had a cat’s luck, always landing on his feet.” Church History. 1713

Or there’s this optimistic way of saying that truth will out in the end.

“Truth is like a cat and always comes down on its feet; jerk it as high as you please.” Cooper’s Letters. 1831.

Of course the last part of this statement is not technically correct, as there is an optimum height for cats to fall from, in order to rotate fully and land with all four paws on the ground.  Also “High rise syndrome” refers to cats that fall from above two floors high, and hit the ground so hard they break their jaws and pelvis – so not even landing on all fours is enough to protect you from injury in some circumstances.

“The cat in gloves catches no mice.”

Another American saying dating from around 1754. I rather like the allusion, a cross between having the right tools for the job and not handicapping yourself. In fact, it would make rather a good personal motto.

Gib, Gyb, or Gibbe: An Old Word for Cat

Gib or Gibbe is an old term for a cat, which was familiar to many medieval people and those in the following centuries, including Shakespeare.

“I am as melancholy as a gib cat or a lugged bear.” —Shakespeare: 1 Henry IV., i. 2.

The name Gib is a contraction of the name “Gilbert” and used in a similar way that Tom cat is today. This name isn’t just restricted to the UK, but used in a slightly different form in France. The French equivalent was Tilbert or Tybalt, with the name ‘Tibbs’ being the equivalent of Gib. Indeed, Chaucer mentions both words for a cat in his Romance of the Rose.

A Digression

Interestingly, Tibby and Tibbles are sometimes still used as cat names, and this isn’t a million miles from Tiddles (could it be as a result of mishearing Tibbles?). However, a quick internet search reveals that Tiddles seems to be a derivative of an old English word ‘Tid’. This word has two meaning, of which one is a small piece, and from this we also get the word tid-bit, meaning a morsel. The other meaning is to fondle or indulge, which I guess in the context of cats makes a lot more sense.

Tiddles and Lord Nelson

There is also an urban myth attached to Lord Horatio Nelson and a cat called Tiddles. There is a lovely story that Lord Nelson went into the Battle of Trafalgar accompanied by a brave companion called Tiddles. This tale gained wide and popular credence, only to be debunked in 2005 when the widow of the perpetrator came forward with the truth about her late husband's deception.

Her husband, Guy Evans, a National Trust employee, started the myth around 1990 when he falsified footnotes to a historic document and then wrote about his discovery in the Nelson Society Journal. She came forward in 2005 to expose the fraud, after the story was mentioned by Stephen Fry on the BBC’s QI program.  

Back to Gib or Gibbe Cats

Tom cats are still widely talked about, but the term Gib has largely fallen into disuse, however this wasn’t always the case. Dr. Johnson (a great cat lover himself) remarks that “Gibbe means an old cat – I know not why.” This is interesting as a Tom cat is generally an entire (not castrated) male, whereas Gib implies old age – so perhaps we just don’t feel the need for a word describing older animals.

However, another doctor, this time Dr. Percy reports that in Northamptonshire the term means a he-cat (or male cat) which is also referred to as a ram-cat (implying they are not desexed) or in Shropshire a tup-cat (similar meaning.) However, numerous dictionaries, including Merriam-Webster give the definition of Gib as meaning neutered or castrated, which is all very confusing.

Phillip Sparrow

Another mention of Gib the cat comes in the 15^th century poem, The Book of Phillip Sparrow by John Skelton.

To call Phylyp agayne,

Whom Gyb our cat hath slayne.

Gib, I saye, our cat,

Worrowyd her on that

Which I loved best:

This poem tells the story of the loss of a pet sparrow, murdered by a cat.. called Gib.

So is the name Gib or Gilbert creeping up the list of names to call your next cat…or perhaps Tiddles? 

Women’s PostWar Problems by guest, Freda Lightfoot

Today I'm delighted to welcome Sunday Times best-selling author Freda Lightfoot to "Fall in Love with History". 

Freda has written a thought-provoking post about how people change during wartime, and how a reunion did not always mean a happy ending. 

G x

WOMEN'S POST WAR PROBLEMS

Most women had endured six years of war work and being entirely responsible for their children. Sometimes children were sent away as evacuees, so there would have been no family life. Women became much tougher as a result of doing men’s jobs, which didn’t always go down well. When their husbands returned they did not expect their wives to have gained so much freedom and independence. They had dreamed of the young and beautiful girl they’d married. Now she’d aged somewhat and that didn’t always appeal either. She could find herself dismissed from her job when the fighting men returned, even though she might be a war widow with no home or pension, or even a deserted wife. The government insisted she return to her wifely  duties, keeping house and producing and caring for children, which felt to some like going back to prison.

She also might have to deal with a shell-shocked or disfigured husband, who suffered from sleepwalking or nightmares, outbursts of violence or depression. He could have turned into a bit of a bully if he was accustomed to giving orders. He might also struggle to find work, or resent having to return to his boring desk job, finding it difficult to settle back into Civvy Street. Children too would often react badly as they didn’t even know their father, having rarely seen him.

But women too had suffered traumas. Perhaps remembered being buried alive for hours in a bombed-out house. The after effects might mean they couldn’t bear to go in lifts, sit in dark places such as a cinema, or experienced fainting fits or even heart attacks. She was most likely to be exhausted after the years of hard work, something their men folk didn’t always comprehend.

The effect of war upon a marriage or relationship was not always good either. Some couples were happy to be back together again and their love blossomed. Others were less fortunate, particularly if they’d suffered traumatic situations, or long periods of separation. It was often considered acceptable for men to satisfy their needs while fighting overseas and befriend girls, but complete fidelity was expected from wives. Why would a woman feel happy about that? And once back together, their personalities having changed somewhat, they could feel like strangers. This was particularly true of hasty war marriages.

When World War II ended there was a strange sense of anti-climax, as if the bright blue, sun-filled sky had clouded over leaving a feeling of uncertainty about the future. But then the country was in a mess, still enduring shortages and rationing, a lack of homes and jobs, and near bankruptcy. There were bombed areas and rubble everywhere, homes lost or wrecked, many empty shops, huge bomb craters everywhere, and loved ones lost. This was the brave new world that women had fought for, but not at all what they’d expected. They needed infinite patience, tact and strength to rebuild their lives.

Thank you, Freda! It hadn't struck me before, how peoples differing experiences of war could push them apart. It sounds a great idea for a novel. Oh wait....

G x

'Home is Where the Heart Is'  Blurb

1945: Christmas is approaching and Cathie Morgan is awaiting the return of her beloved fiancé, Alexander Ramsay. But she has a secret that she’s anxious to share with him. One that could change everything between them. Her sister has died and she wants to adopt her son. When the truth is finally revealed, Alex immediately calls off the wedding, claiming that the baby is actually Cathie’s, causing all of Cathie’s fears to be realised. As Cathie battles to reassure Alex of her fidelity, she must also juggle the care of the baby and their home.

But then Alex crosses the line with a deceit that is unforgivable, leaving Cathie to muster the courage to forge a life for her and her nephew alone.

Will Cathie ever be able to trust another man again and as peace begins to settle will she ever be able to call a house a home…

Freda's Bio:

Born in Lancashire, Freda Lightfoot has been a teacher, bookseller and in a mad moment even tried her hand at the 'good life' as a smallholder in the English Lake District. Inspired by this tough life on the fells, memories of her Lancashire childhood, and her passion for history she has published over forty sagas and historical novels. Freda has lived in the Lake District and Cornwall but now lives in Spain in the winter but still likes to spend rainy summers in the UK.

For more information visit her website 

Find Freda on Facebook

Or on Twitter

And at Goodreads

Gottfried Mind: The Cat Raphael

Recently, in a Victorian book of cat miscellany (*) I came upon a passing reference to Gottfried Mind, as the “Cat Raphael”. This of course, whetted my appetite to find out more because anyone who can capture the character of cats is all right by me.

Gottfried Mind (1768 – 1814) was born in Switzerland, the son of a carpenter. But Mind was a sickly child with a weak constitution, and he was also autistic. At an early age Gottfried showed a talent for drawing, but his father believed the only medium worth working with was wood. He would give his son pieces of wood and indeed the young Gottfried became a talented carver. His miniature sheep and cows were popular with the locals, who displayed them on their mantelpieces. However, Gottfried’s real passion was drawing.

Gottfried was sent away to school, but lasted only a year. As explained by the head teacher, his pupil was:

“Incapable of any demanding work, but full of talent for drawing, especially God’s creatures, which he renders full of artistic caprices and with some wit.”

Gottfried returned home to become an apprentice to a printer called Sigmund Hendenberger. Gottfried’s job was to hand color the prints created by his master. The story goes that Gottfried’s talent for drawing felines was discovered by accident.

Hendenberger visited a village (to create “Peasant Clearing Wood”) showing a man chopping wood, whilst his wife sits spooning food into a child, with a cat winding round her ankles. When Gottfried saw his master’s rendition of the cat, he said: “That’s no cat.” Hendenberger took this as a challenge and suggested if his apprentice could do better, go ahead.

The sketch that Gottfried produced so enchanted Hendenberger that he copied his pupil’s work. The pair worked on together for years, but it wasn’t until after his master’s death and his widow encouraged Gottfried to produce original works to bring in more money, that Gottfried gave free rein to his talent.

His poor health meant he spent a lot of time indoors, usually accompanied by a cat. It seems he had a near photographic memory, as he only had to visit a scene and stare for a while, to return home and render it faithfully in paint.  And when Gottfried wanted to relax, his party piece was to carve miniature models of cats out of chestnuts.

Sadly, Gottfried Mind suffered from an “increasing disorder in his breast” which brought about his death in 1914, at the tragically young age of 46.

 

...and this one is by my son. 

 (*) The Book of Cats: A Chit-Chat Chronicle of Feline Facts and Fancies, Legendary, Lyrical, Medical, Mirthful and Miscellaneous (1868) Charles Henry Ross. 

Saint Julian of Norwich and her Cat

Last week’s post posed the question: Who is the patron saint of cats? One visitor to the blog, Susan Lester, left an intriguing comment that needed further investigation. Susan mentioned Saint Julian of Norwich as being a contender for the official protector of felines. I’d never heard of Saint Julian, so I decided to find out more.

A depiction of Saint Julian and her cat
(although it seems likely she wasn't a nun)

Indeed, Saint Julian is strongly linked to cats (although not named as their patron saint), most especially because her sole companion was feline. But I jump ahead, let’s start at the beginning and find out who Julian was, along with where and when she lived.

Julian lived in the 14^th century, at a time when the Black Death was ravaging England. Harvests failed, the people were poor and starving, whilst taxes were high. The climax of this was a young King Richard II was on the throne, and the Peasant’s Revolt of 1381. A poll tax was levied to pay for the Hundred Years War with France, and when officials tried to enforce payment, the peasants fought back.

This was a time of great unrest, with Wat Tyler raising a group of fighting men to try and storm the Tower of London. In the midst of the social distress, lack of food, and risk of the plague they were dark times indeed. But Julian felt a calling to ‘anchor the light of God’ on earth.

Little is known about Julian’s earlier life, and our main clue is Julian’s own words where she refers to herself as a “Simple, uneducated woman.”

Julian’s mission was to represent a quiet oasis of calm, in the midst of all the strife. To do this she became an anchoress in a cell, in a church in Norfolk. Indeed, it seems likely she took her name from that of the church, Julian, Bishop of Le Mans, where she lived.

The church from which Julian took her saintly name.

Her purpose was to live a life of solitude and prayer, and provide counsel via a small curtained window to those that needed it.  She lived entirely with a small cell and a small enclosed yard with a high wall.  That one room had three small windows: One so she could hear Mass and take the Sacrament, a second where a servant placed her food, and the third through which she gave counsel.

However, she did have a companion, in the shape of a cat. This was for entirely practical reasons, in order to keep the rat population down. But it seems likely that Julian and that cat struck up a very close relationship, and that feline certainly must have been a bright light to Saint Julian in those dark times.

(Thank you to Susan, for bringing Saint Julian to my attention.) 

Who is the Patron Saint of Cats?

Who is the patron saint of cats?

You might think a likely candidate was Saint Francis of Assisi, but you’d be wrong. St Francis is the patron saint of animals (including cats) but apart from being an all-round good egg when it came to animals he had not extra special affinity for cats.

Saint Francis of Assisi

Another possibility is Saint Mary Bartholomew Bagnesi. She lived in the 16^th century and was a Dominican nun who suffered poor health. It seems cats liked Mary, and stayed with her in her sick room. Indeed, cats seem to be a sort of guardian angel for Mary.

“At least once when the cats knew Maria was hungry and hadn’t been looked after they went and fetched cheese for her to eat.” The Catholic Herald. 

Mary Bartholomew Bagnesi

But no, Mary is not the saint we are looking for: Her area of patronage falls on the abused, the sick, and as a protector of parents.

Gertrude of Nivelles
Patron saint of cats
Rather confusingly with some rats

In truth this is a trick question because there is no ‘official’ patron saint of cats, although St. Gertrude of Nivelles unofficially holds the honor. Gertrude is the patron saint of travelers, gardeners, and protects against mental illness…and rats. The latter is possibly where her associated with cats began.

Many pictures of Saint Gertrude show her with a mouse on her staff, which is where it all gets a little confusing. 

Whilst she was said to protect against rats and mice, the mice shown with her in pictures are said to represent the souls of the recently deceased in purgatory (whom she is also patron saint of). Whichever way round things are (mice good or mice bad) it seems Gertrude was kind to all the cats in the convent gardens, and cats were encouraged there in order to keep the vermin population under control.

Gertrude was born in Belgium, in 626, and died aged 33, in 659. However, it wasn’t until the Middle Ages that she popularly became linked to cats, so perhaps it was more wishful thinking than fact, to put right a wrong that cats should have their own saint. 

Oh, and Gertrude's saint's day is March 17.