cat, 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 of 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.
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.
And a second feast being prepared and the rats and mice appearing as
they did before, the young merchant having the cat under his cloak the
king desired to see the thing which he had before so much commended;
when presently he discovered her, and cast her among them; she no
sooner saw these vermine but fell upon them with such a fury that here
lay one panting, there another quite dead; nor left them till she had
frighted and disperst the whole number, but such as she seized their
carkasses lay there as witnesses of their unexpected slaughter.