and told the king he had a creature on board the ship that would
despatch all these vermin immediately. The king's heart heaved so high
at the joy which this news gave him that his turban dropped off his
head. "Bring this creature to me," says he; "vermin are dreadful in a
court, and if she will perform what you say, I will load your ship with
gold and jewels in exchange for her." The factor, who knew his business,
took this opportunity to set forth the merits of Miss Puss. He told his
majesty "That it would be inconvenient to part with her, as, when she
was gone, the rats and mice might destroy the goods in the ship--but to
oblige his majesty he would fetch her." "Run, run," said the queen; "I
am impatient to see the dear creature."
Away flew the factor, while another dinner was providing, and returned
with the cat just as the rats and mice were devouring that also. He
immediately put down Mrs. Puss, who killed a great number of them.
The king rejoiced greatly to see his old enemies destroyed by so small a
creature, and the queen was highly pleased, and desired the cat might be
brought near that she might look at her. Upon which the factor called
"Pussy, pussy, pussy," and she came to him. He then presented her to the
queen, who started back, and was afraid to touch a creature who had made
such a havoc among the rats and mice; however, when the factor stroked
the cat and called "Pussy, pussy," the queen also touched her and cried
"Putty, putty," for she had not learned English.
He then put her down on the queen's lap, where she, purring, played with
her majesty's hand, and then sung herself to sleep.
The king having seen the exploits of Mrs. Puss, and being informed that
she was with young, and would stock the whole country, bargained with
the captain and factor for the whole ship's cargo, and then gave them
ten times as much for the cat as all the rest amounted to. With which,
taking leave of their majesties, and other great personages at court,
they sailed with a fair wind for England, whither we must now attend
them.
The morn had scarcely dawned when Mr. Fitzwarren stole from the bed of
his beloved wife, to count over the cash, and settle the business for
that day. He had just entered the compting-house, and seated himself at
the desk, when somebody came, tap, tap, at the door. "Who's there?" says
Mr. Fitzwarren. "A friend," answered the other. "What friend can come at
this unseasonable time?" "A real friend is never unseasonable," answered
the other. "I come to bring you good news of your ship _Unicorn_." The
merchant bustled up in such an hurry that he forgot his gout; instantly
opened the door, and who should be seen waiting but the captain and
factor, with a cabinet of jewels, and a bill of lading, for which the
merchant lifted up his eyes and thanked heaven for sending him such a
prosperous voyage. Then they told him the adventures of the cat, and
shewed him the cabinet of jewels which they had brought for Mr.
Whittington. Upon which he cried out with great earnestness, but not in
the most poetical manner,--
"Go, send him in, and tell him of his fame,
And call him Mr. Whittington by name."
It is not our business to animadvert upon these lines; we are not
critics, but historians. It is sufficient for us that they are the words
of Mr. Fitzwarren; and though it is beside our purpose, and perhaps not
in our power to prove him a good poet, we shall soon convince the reader
that he was a good man, which was a much better character; for when
some, who were present, told him that this treasure was too much for
such a poor boy as Whittington, he said, "God forbid that I should
deprive him or a penny; it is his own, and he shall have it to a
farthing." He then ordered Mr. Whittington in, who was at this time
cleaning the kitchen, and would have excused himself from going into the
compting-house, saying, the room was rubbed, and his shoes were dirty
and full of hob-nails. The merchant, however, made him come in, and
ordered a chair to be set for him. Upon which, thinking they intended to
make sport of him, as had been too often the case in the kitchen, he
besought his master not to mock a poor simple fellow, who intended them
no harm, but let him go about his business. The merchant, taking him by
the hand, said, "Indeed, Mr. Whittington, I am in earnest with you, and
sent for you to congratulate you on your great success. Your cat has
procured you more money than I am worth in the world, and may you long
enjoy it and be happy."
At length, being shown the treasure, and convinced by them that all of
it belonged to him, he fell upon his knees and thanked the Almighty for
his providential care of such a poor and miserable creature. He then
laid all the treasure at his master's feet, who refused to take any part
of it, but told him he heartily rejoiced at his prosperity, and hoped
the wealth he had acquired would be a comfort to him, and would make him
happy. He then applied to his mistress, and to his good friend Miss
Alice, who refused to take any part of the money, but told him she
heartily rejoiced at his good success, and wished him all imaginable
felicity. He then gratified the captain, factor, and the ship's crew,
for the care they had taken of his cargo. He likewise distributed
presents to all the servants in the house, not forgetting even his old
enemy the cook, though she little deserved it.
After this Mr. Fitzwarren advised Mr. Whittington to send for the
necessary people and dress himself like a gentleman, and made him the
offer of his house to live in till he could provide himself with a
better.
Now it came to pass that when Mr. Whittington's face was washed, his
hair curled, and dressed in a rich suit of clothes, that he turned out a
genteel young fellow; and, as wealth contributes much to give a man
confidence, he in a little time dropped that sheepish behaviour which
was principally occasioned by a depression of spirits, and soon grew a
sprightly and good companion, insomuch that Miss Alice, who had formerly
seen him with an eye of compassion, now viewed him with other eyes,
which perhaps was in some measure occasioned by his readiness to oblige
her, and by continually making her presents of such things that he
thought would be most agreeable.
When her father perceived they had this good liking for each other he
proposed a match between them, to which both parties cheerfully
consented, and the Lord Mayor, Court of Aldermen, Sheriffs, the Company
of Stationers, and a number of eminent merchants attended the ceremony,
and were elegantly treated at an entertainment made for that purpose.
History further relates that they lived very happy, had several
children, and died at a good old age. Mr. Whittington served Sheriff of
London in the year 1340, and was three times Lord Mayor. In the last
year of his mayoralty he entertained King Henry V. and his Queen, after
his conquest of France, upon which occasion the King, in consideration
of Whittington's merit, said, "Never had prince such a subject;" which
being told to Whittington at the table, he replied "Never had subject
such a king." His Majesty, out of respect to his good character,
conferred the honour of knighthood on him soon after.
Sir Richard many years before his death constantly fed a great number of
poor citizens, built a church and a college to it, with a yearly
allowance for poor scholars, and near it erected an hospital. He also
built Newgate for criminals, and gave liberally to St. Bartholomew's
Hospital and other public charities.
* * * * *
Two old houses in London, which were pulled down at the beginning of the
present century, have been associated with the name of Whittington, but
there is no evidence that he really dwelt in either of them. One ruinous
building in Sweedon's Passage, Grub Street, engravings of which will be
found in J.T. Smith's _Topography of London_, was pulled down in 1805,
and five houses built on its site. A tablet was then set up, on which
was an inscription to the effect that the house had been called Gresham
House, and that Whittington once inhabited it.
The magnificent house which stood in Hart Street, Crutched Friars, a few
doors from Mark Lane, is said to have been called Whittington's palace
in the old leases, but this is the only evidence in favour of the
popular belief. The front was elaborately carved in oak, the work of a
much later date than that of Whittington. The decoration is attributed
to the latter part of the reign of Henry VIII., and on the ceiling among
other forms was that of a cat's head, from which possibly the tradition
of its having been the residence of Whittington arose. There was a
popular superstition that the cat's eyes followed the visitor as he
walked about the room. This house was taken down in 1801, but both it
and the house in Sweedon's Passage were reproduced in the interesting
Old London Street at the International Health Exhibition of 1884.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] _Catalogue of Chap Books, Garlands, &c._ 1849, p. 69.
[2] Riley's _Memorials of London and London Life_, p. 534 (note).
[3] Riley's _Memorials_, pp. 533-4.
[4] The Royal Mandate, dated June 8, is printed in Riley's _Memorials_,
p. 545.
[5] _Survey of London_, ed. Thoms, 1842, p. 41.
[6] _Survey of London_, ed. Thoms, 1842, p. 162.
[7] _Ibid._ p. 103.
* * * * *
THE
FAMOUS AND REMARKABLE
HISTORY
OF
SIR RICHARD WHITTINGTON,
THREE TIMES LORD MAYOR OF LONDON:
_who lived in the time of King Henry the Fifth in the year 1419, with
all the Remarkable Passages, and things of note, which happened in his
time: with his Life and Death._
WRITTEN BY T. H.
_Printed by W. Thackeray and T. Passinger._
_The Printer to the Reader._
Courteous Reader,--I here present unto thee no strange or forreign news,
no imagination, or vain conceit of poetical fiction; neither do I tell
thee of Gallagantua or of the Red Rose Knight, nor such like stories;
but I here offer to thy view a true pattern of humility; being the glory
of our Kingdom, and raised to Honour by desert; the title tells you that
it is the life and death of Richard Whittington, who for his clemency
and understanding was three times chosen Lord Mayor of the Honourable
City of London, who always acknowledged his beginning to be of mean and
low rank; yet he was beloved of the King for his fidelity and trust, as
may appear in larger volumes, and the entertainment that he gave at his
own house to his Soveraign at several times: his bounty upon all
occasions, when the King wanted his purse; his love to the City and
Commons; which are not to be buried in oblivion, but rather to be
proclaimed as living monuments to all people of what condition soever,
to animate them never to be dejected though never so poor, as the story
will more at large declare; all which happened in the days of our
forefathers, and very probable it may be for us to believe; if we will
not give credit to former historians who will give the like to us in
future ages: read it through, and you will find something worthy
of note, and thou shall do thy self some pleasure and me a high
favour. _Vale._
_The Life and Death of Sir Richard Whittington;
who was three times Lord Mayor of the
City of London._
The saying is not so old as true, He that refuseth to buy counsel cheap
shall buy repentance dear; neither let any work [mock?] a man in his
misery, but rather beware by him how to avoid the like misfortune; if
thou intend to do any good, defer it not till the next day, for thou
knowest not what may happen over night to prevent thee. Behold thyself
in a looking glass, if thou appearest beautiful do such things as may
become thy beauty; but if thou seem foul or deformed, let the actions of
thy life make good that splendor which thy face lacketh. Tell not thy
mind to every man, make thy self indebted to no man, be friend to few
men, be courteous to all men, let thy wit be thy friend, thy mind thy
companion, thy tongue thy servant, let vertue be thy life, valour thy
love, honour thy fame and heaven thy felicity. These (Reader) be good
documents for thee to follow, and I am now to present thee with a
worthy president to imitate; observe his beginning, forget not the
middle passage of his life, and thou wilt no question crown his head. He
that made all things of nothing can of a little make much, and multiply
a mite into a magazine, as will easily appear by the succeeding history.
This Richard Whittington was so obscurely born that he could scarcely
give account of his parents or kindred, and being almost starved in the
country, necessity compelled him up to London, hoping to find more
charity in the town than in the country: to beg he was ashamed, to steal
he did abhor: two days he spent in gaping upon the shops and gazing upon
the buildings feeding his eyes but starving his stomach. At length meer
faintness compell'd him to rest himself upon a bench before a merchant's
gate, where he not long sat but the owner of the house having occasion
of business into the town finding him a poor simple fellow, and thinking
that he had no more within him than appeared without, demanded of him
why he loytered there, and being able to work for his living did not
apply himself unto some lawful calling, threatning him at the first with
the stocks and the whipping-post; but the poor man, after the making of
some plain leggs and courtesie, desired him to pardon him, and told him
that he was a dejected man, who desired any imployment, and that no
pains how mean or course (_sic_) soever could seem tedious or
burthensome unto him, so he might but find some good master, by whose
charity he might relieve his present necessity: for his great ambition
was but to keep his body from nakedness and his stomach from hunger,
and told him withal how long it was since he had tasted meat or drink.
The worthy merchant seeing him of a personable body, and an ingenious
aspect howsoever both were clouded under a rustick habit, began somewhat
to commiserate his estate, and knocking for a servant had him take in
that fellow and give him such victuals as the house for the present
afforded, and at his return he would have further conference with him.
The servant did as he was commanded and took him in.
The merchant went then to the Exchange, which was then in Lumber Street,
about his affairs; in which intrim (_sic_) poor Whittington was hied
into the kitchin to warm himself, for faintness by reason of hunger and
cold (for it was then in the winter time) had quite rob'd him of his
colour. Meat was set before him in plenty, and being bred in the
country, as the proverb goeth, _He fed like a farmer_, and having
satisfied himself sufficiently and warm'd him to the full, a fresh
colour began to come into his cheeks: at which the Merchant's daughter
(hearing of a new come guest) came into the kitchin, and began to
question him of divers things concerning the country, to all which he
gave her such modest and sensible answers that she took a great liking
unto him, and so left him.
Dinner time came, and Master Fitzwarren (for so was the merchant called)
came home with a good stomach, and brought a friend or two with him from
the Exchange; down they sat to meat, and had speech of many things at
the table; meanwhile the servants were set also at dinner, who would
needs have Whittington, though he had so lately broke his fast, to keep
them company, some of them delighting in his country speech, others
deriding his supposed simplicity.
But to come to the purpose, the table being withdrawn in the parlour,
and the guests departed, and Master Fitzwarren and his daughter left
alone, she being of a good and gentle disposition, began to commend his
charity concerning the poor man whom he relieved that morning, to whom
he answered, God-a-mercy daughter, thou hast done well to remember me,
such a one I sent indeed, but have my servants done as I commanded them?
and where is he now? who answered him, that she had given order he
should stay dinner, and not depart the house till he himself had further
spoken with him. At which they both went unto the Hall, and called the
fellow before them; who appeared unto them with such a bashful humility
that it seemed to them both to beg a charity; some language past betwixt
them concerning him, which gave them content; at length they bid him
retire himself.
When the father and the daughter had some private conference concerning
him she urged him to entertain him into his house, and that there would
be some employment for him, either to run or to go of errands or else to
do some drudgery in the kitchin, as making of fires, scouring kettles,
turning the spit, and the like: To whom the father reply'd that indeed
his work might be worth his meat, but he had no lodging to spare, and
she again answered that there were garrets in the house that were put to
no use at all, and in one of them he might conveniently be lodged and
put the house to no trouble at all.
Well at length he was admitted, and made a member of the family, in
which he demeaned himself so well by his willingness to run or go or do
any service how mean so ever that he had got the good will of all the
whole houshold, only the kitchin maid being a curst quean, and knowing
him to be an under servant to her, domineered over him and used him very
coursely and roughly, of which he would never complain, though he had
cause enough. The garret in which he lay, by reason it had been long
unfrequented, was troubled with rats and mice, insomuch that he could
not sleep in the night but they ran over his face, and much disturb'd
him in his rest: to prevent which having got a penny either for going of
an errand, or for making clean boots or shooes or the like, with that he
bought a young cat which he kept in his garret, and whatsoever he had
from the reversion of the servants table he would be sure to reserve
part for her, because he had found by experience that she had rid him of
the former inconveniences.
The History tells us that this merchant, Master Hugh Fitzwarren, was so
generous that he never adventured any ship to sea but he would have his
daughter, his cashire, and every one of his servants, whar (_sic_) or
whatsoever, to put in something, and to adventure with him, and
according to that proportion which they could spare, every one received
to a token at the return of the ship. His daughter she began, the rest
followed, and the servants borrowed out of their wages everyone
according to their abilities, and when they all had done Whittington was
remembered and called for, and his master telling him the custome of his
home, asked him what he had to hazard in this adventure, who replyed
again, he was a poor man, and had nothing in the world saving the
cloaths upon his back, but for money he had none at all: then his
daughter drew out her purse and told her father, that for his servant
Whittington she would lay down whatsoever he would desire. Who answered
again, that what she had spoke was nothing to the purpose; for
whatsoever was ventured in that kind must be out of ones proper goods
and chattels, and again demanded of him if he had anything he could call
his own to put to hazard, and charged him deeply concerning that point,
who making some unnecessary leggs, told him that he had nothing which he
could call his saving a cat, which he had bought with his penny, which
he could not spare because she had done him so many good offices, and
told them every circumstance before, related, which when the merchant
heard he told him that he should venture that commodity and none else,
and charged him to fetch her instantly (for the ship which was called
the Unicorn) was fallen down as low as Blackwal and all their lading
was already had aboard. Whittington although unwilling to part from so
good a companion yet being forced by his masters command by whom he had
his subsistence he brought her and (not without tears) delivered her to
his factor who was partly glad of her, by reason they were troubled with
mice and rats in the ship, which not only spoyled their victuals but
damaged their wares and commodities.
I must leave the cat upon her voyage at sea and honest Whittington on
land, who by that cursed quean the kitchin maid was so beaten and abused
that he was as weary of his life as of his service: for she (usurping
upon his plainness and modesty) would be quarrelling with him, upon
every small or no occasion at all; sometimes beating him with the broom,
sometimes laying him over the shoulders with a laddle, the spit or what
came next to her hands, being of so dogged a disposition that she still
continued her cruelty towards him, and therefore he resolved with
himself to run away, and for that purpose he had bundled up those few
clothes which he had, and before day broke was got as far as Bunhill,
and then he sat down to consider with himself what course he were best
to take; where by chance (it being all-hallows day) a merry peal from
Bow Church began to ring, and as he apprehended they were tun'd to this
ditty,--
Turn again Whittington, Lord Mayor of London,
Turn again Whittington, Lord Mayor of London.
This took such a great impression in him, that finding how early it was,
and that he might yet come back in his masters house before any of the
family were stirring, he resolved to go back, and found every thing
according to his own wishes and desires, insomuch that when the
household were up none could challenge him to have been missing. And
thus he continued as before in his first plainness and honesty, well
beloved of all save the kitchin drudge; I come now to tell you what
became of his adventure.
It so hapned that this goodly ship Unicorn was by contrary gusts and bad
weather driven upon the utmost coast of Barbary, where never any
Englishman (or scarce any Christian) had ever traded before, where they
showed their commodities and offered them to be vended. The Moors came
down in multitudes, much taken with the beauty of their ship, for they
had never seen any of that bigness or burthen before, but when they had
taken a serious view of their commodities as hatchets, knives and
looking-glasses, fish-hooks, &c. but especially their cloth and kersies
of several sizes and colours, they brought them gold in abundance for it
was more plentiful with them then (_sic_) lead or copper with us.
Presently the news was carryed to the king who sent some of his chief
nobility to bring him some sorts of every commodity that was aboard,
which when he saw they pleased him highly, sending for the master and
merchants factor to court. He at their own rate bargained with them for
their whole lading, nor would he suffer them to depart till he had
feasted them royally.
Now the fashion of the Moors is not to sit at the table as the custom is
among us, but to have a rich carpet spread upon the ground, and when the
meal or banquet is served in, as well the king himself as the rest sit
round about cross-legg'd as taylors commonly used to do upon their
shop-boards, and in that manner our English are set at the king's
banquet, but the meal was no sooner served in but swarms of rats and
mice seized upon the dishes, and snatched away the meat even from the
king and queen's trenchers: at which the factor being annoyed asked one
of the nobility (by an interpreter) if they preserved those vermin for
sport, or if they were noysome, and troublesome unto them: who answered
him again, that they were the greatest vexation unto them that could be
possible, and by reason of their multitudes they could not be destroyed,
but the king would willingly give half the revenue of his crown if he
could but only clear the court of them, for not only his table but his
very bed-chamber swarmed with them, insomuch that he durst not lay him
down to rest without a watch about him, to keep them off his pillow: To
whom the factor replyed, that they had a strange beast aboard which he
made no doubt would rid them of those vermine: which being told the king
he rose from his place and imbracing the factor told him if he could
shew him such a creature he would ballast his vessel with silver and
lade her with gold and pearl. Who apprehending the occasion made very
coy of the business, telling him it was a creature of great value and
not common. Besides they could not spare her from the ship, in regard
when they were asleep yet she was still waking in the night, not only to
preserve their merchandise but there dyet from the like spoyl. The more
dainty that he made of the matter the more earnest was the king for this
beast, insomuch that he was presently sent for.