Thomas Gray, Melancholy and Cats
Following the great period of Satire came an emergence of poetry of feeling... most noteworthy, there were many poets who wrote in high style about their feelings of melancholy. Specifically, much of it consisted of nostalgic poems that reflected on times passed, or reflected on the beauty that surrounded them. Professor Kuin mentioned that a favourite topic was the ruins of buildings or castles.
Castle ruins are a perfect physical representation of this kind of poetry because they themselves are so beautiful, and yet so sad to look at. They represent something that was once so majestic, so awe-inspiring, so seemingly indestructible -- but something that Time has proven to be as faltering as anything else, in the end. The everpresent popularity of castle ruins is a testament to the nostalgia people still feel for times it is too late to recapture, times that seem so much better than the present, especially when one is stuck contemplating the miseries of life. This idea is similar to Thomas Gray's popular "Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College", in which he watches the careless youth at the college, just as carefree as he was at their age, and yet "No sense have they of ills to come, / No care beyond today: / Yet see how all around them wait / The ministers of human fate". He considers telling them of the hardships they will endure as they grow up, but in the end decides to let them be:
To each his sufferings: all are men,
Condemned alike to groan,
The tender for another's pain;
The unfeeling for his own.
Yet ah! why should they know their fate?
Since sorrow never comes too late,
And happiness too swiftly flies.
Thought would destroy their paradise.
No more; where ignorance is bliss,
'Tis folly to be wise.
Yes, in the end, he decides that ignorance is bliss. Which, in the context of this poem, I think is a wise decision -- why barge in on their happiest times with horror stories about what will become of it all in the end? On a... 'lighter' note, Gray writes "Ode (on the Death of a Favourite Cat Drowned in a Tub of Goldfishes)" with what some would consider bathos, though I personally consider the death of a beloved cat much more melancholy than the inevitable aging of college boys. I'm going to quote the entire poem here because I find it lovely, however sad, and I think anyone who loves cats will sympathize!
Ode (on the Death of a Favourite Cat Drowned in a Tub of Goldfishes)
'Twas on a lofty vase's side,
Where China's gayest art had dy'd
The azure flow'rs that blow;
Demurest of the tabby kind,
The pensive Selima, reclin'd,
Gazed on the lake below.
Her conscious tail her joy declar'd;
The fair round face, the snowy beard,
The velvet of her paws,
Her coat, that with the tortoise vies,
Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes,
She saw: and purr'd applause.
Still had she gaz'd; but 'midst the tide
Two angel forms were seen to glide,
The Genii of the stream;
Their scaly armour's Tyrian hue
Thro' richest purple to the view
Betray'd a golden gleam.
The hapless Nymph with wonder saw:
A whisker first and then a claw,
With many an ardent wish,
She stretch'd in vain to reach the prize.
What female heart can gold despise?
What cat's averse to fish?
Presumptuous Maid! with looks intent
Again she stretch'd, again she bent,
Nor knew the gulf between.
(Malignant Fate sat by, and smil'd)
The slipp'ry verge her feet beguil'd,
She tumbled headlong in.
Eight times emerging from the flood
She mew'd to ev'ry wat'ry god,
Some speedy aid to send.
No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirr'd;
Nor cruel Tom, nor Susan heard.
A Fav'rite has no friend!
From hence, ye Beauties, undeceiv'd,
Know, one false step is ne'er retriev'd,
And be with caution bold.
Not all that tempts your wand'ring eyes
And heedless hearts is lawful prize,
Nor all, that glisters, gold.
This ode uses the same sublime language as most (or all?) of Gray's odes, turning the scene into something much more rich for the imagination. On the subject of feline poetry, there is another skillfully written ode to a cat that everyone should have the chance to read -- here is Commander Data's "Ode to Spot", from Star Trek TNG:
Ode to Spot
Felis Cattus is your taxonomic nomenclature,
an endothermic quadruped carnivorous by nature.
Your visual, olfactory and auditory senses
contribute to your hunting skills, and natural defenses.
I find myself intrigued by your subvocal oscillations,
a singular development of cat communications
that obviates your basic hedonistic predilection
for a rhythmic stroking of your fur, to demonstrate affection.
A tail is quite essential for your acrobatic talents;
you would not be so agile if you lacked its counterbalance.
And when not being utilized to aide in locomotion,
it often serves to illustrate the state of your emotion.
O Spot, the complex levels of behaviour you display
connote a fairly well-developed cognitive array.
And though you are not sentient, Spot, and do not comprehend,
I nonetheless consider you a true and valued friend.
The technicality of Data’s poem is just a feature of what makes his character so charming. Because everyone loves Data, and if you don’t, I don’t know if I can really be your friend anymore. What makes him so loveable is that despite being an android, displaying high intelligence and attention to detail, he manages to convey a very subtle sense of humour and an insatiable interest in human beings and the world that surrounds him -- which is exactly what we see in this poem.
Data rules.
Click here to link to an audio clip of this poem.
This is high-quality shite... you better not have skipped anything! Scroll back up! I took time to write this!!!!
Love,
Laura <3