Part 107

This was not the only misfortune he laboured under; for lying in a place for a long time unfrequented, such abundance of rats and mice had bred there, that they were almost ready at times to dispute the possession of the place with him, and full as troublesome by night as the cook was by day, so that he knew not what to think of his condition, or how to mend it. After many disquieting thoughts, he at last comforted himself with the hopes that the cook might soon marry, or die, or quit her service; and as for the rats and mice, a cat would be an effectual remedy against them.

Soon after, a merchant came to dinner, and it raining exceedingly, he staid all night; whose shoes Whittington having cleaned, and presented at his chamber door, he gave him a penny. This stock he improved, for going along the street of an errand, he saw a woman with a cat under her arm, and desired to know the price of it: the woman praised it for a good mouser, and told him, sixpence; but he declaring that a penny was all his stock, she let him have it.

He took the cat home, and kept her in a box all day, lest the cook should kill her if she came into the kitchen, and at night he set her to work for her living. Puss delivered him from one plague; but the other remained, though not for many years.

It was the custom with the worthy merchant, Mr. Hugh Fitzwarren, that God might give him a greater blessing for his endeavours, to call all his servants together when he sent out a ship, and cause every one to venture something in it, to try their fortunes.

Now all but Whittington appeared, and brought things according to their abilities; but his young mistress being by, and supposing that poverty made him decline coming, she ordered him to be called, on which he made several excuses: however, being constrained to come, he hoped they would not jeer a poor simpleton for being in expectation of turning merchant, since all that he could lay claim to as his own, was but a poor cat, which he had bought for one penny, which he had given to him for cleaning shoes, and had much befriended him in keeping the rats and mice from him. Upon this, the young lady proffered to lay something down for him, but her father told her the custom; it must be his own which must be ventured; and then ordered him to bring his cat, which he did, but with great reluctance, fancying nothing would come of it; and with tears delivered it to the master of the ship, which was called the Unicorn, and had fallen down to Blackwall, in order to proceed on her voyage.

On their arrival in the Mole of Algiers, they heard that the plague was raging in the country, having been but a few years before brought from China, viz. in 1346, at which period it was first noticed to rage in Africa, from whence it soon proceeded to Europe, overspreading the northern countries. This news did not deter the captain from sending to trade on shore, where, at first, they found but little encouragement, the people of the country appearing very shy to every offer. The news of the arrival of a vessel soon reached the notice of the Dey, who immediately ordered the captain and officers to wait upon his highness with presents; for then, as well as now, nothing could be done without first bribing him. After this ceremony was over, trade went on pretty briskly, at the conclusion of which, his Moorish majesty gave a grand entertainment, which, according to custom, was served upon carpets, interwoven with gold, silver, and purple silk. This feast was no sooner served up with the various dishes, but the scent brought together a number of rats and mice, who unmercifully fell on all that came in their way.

These audacious and destructive vermin did not shew any symptoms of fear upon the approach of the company, but, on the contrary, kept to it as if they only were invited. This made the captain and his people very much wonder; who, interrogating the Algerines, were informed, a very great price would be given by his highness, the Dey, for a cure, and a riddance of these vermin, which were grown so numerously offensive, that not only his table, but his private apartments, and bed, were so infested, that he was forced to be constantly watched for fear of being devoured.

This information put the English company immediately in mind of poor Dick Whittington's cat, which had done them such notable service on the passage; and wishing to serve the youth, they thought this the best time to come forward with the industrious animal. Accordingly, she was brought on shore the next day, when her presence suddenly kept off most of the vermin; a few only of the boldest daring to venture forward, all of whom she dispatched with wonderful celerity. This pleased his Algerine highness so much, that he immediately made very advantageous proposals to the factor of the ship for the possession of this surprising and useful animal. At first our people seemed very reluctant to part with it; but his liberality soon overcame every objection; and her purchase amounted, in various commodities, to several thousands of pounds. During the time the English remained here, her industry in destroying those noxious vermin so completely pleased the Moorish chief, that, at our people's departure, he again loaded them with rich presents.

The cook, who little thought how advantageous Whittington's cat would prove, had kept up such a continual alarm of noise and reproach at the poor youth's unfortunate penury, that he grew weary of enduring it, and not the least expecting what followed, he resolved rather to try his fortune again in the wide world, than lead any longer such a disagreeable life. For this step he might be blamed, as, had he complained to his master, who was a kind gentleman, the difference would have been set to rights, and he, not like a Jonas, cast out. With this resolution, however, he set out early on Allhallows morning, resolving to go into the country, and get into a more agreeable service.

As he went over Finsbury Moor, since called Moor-fields, his mind began to fail; he hesitated, and halted several times: he grew pensive, and his resolution left him. In this solitary manner he wandered on until he reached Holloway, where he sat down upon a large stone, which remains there to be seen to this day. Here he began to ruminate in earnest upon his ill-luck in not pleasing the cook; and in the depth of his meditation, he suddenly heard Bow bells strike out for a peal. This changed his attention; for, as he listened, on a sudden, he fancied they called him back again to his master. The more he hearkened, the more he became confirmed in this notion of his recall, conceiting the bells expressed the following distich:--

"RETURN AGAIN, WHITTINGTON, THRICE LORD MAYOR OF LONDON."

This proved a happy thought for him; and it made so great an impression on his fancy, that, finding it early, and thinking he might yet get back before the family were stirring, he instantly turned upon his heel, and reaching home in less time than he went out, he got in unperceived to his usual daily drudgery.

Things were in this situation when the news arrived of the success of the voyage; and that night he was installed with the appellation of Mr. by his master, who informed him, that his ship had just arrived at Blackwall, being the richest vessel of her burden that had ever floated into an English port. His master concluded his discourse with a pious admonition to all his servants, after which they all joined in a thanksgiving to the Almighty for such a prosperous voyage.

The cook was among the first to change her demeanor towards Whittington, calling him Sir, and inviting him to such and such relishes as the kitchen afforded.

When the bill of lading was presented to the merchant, the principal part was found to belong to Mr. Whittington, amongst which was a cabinet of rich jewels, the last present of the Dey. This was the first thing brought to Mr. Fitzwarren's house, it being deemed too valuable to remain on board.

When the servants' goods for their ventures were all brought up to be divided, Mr. Whittington's was too bulky to be unpacked before them; but the pearls and jewels alone were estimated at several thousand pounds.

The humility of Mr. Whittington's mind arising from a strong sense of his duty to society in general, prevented his temper from exhilarating into arrogance, petulance, or superciliousness: though suddenly grown rich, and become equal to the first merchants in the city, pride had no share in the change of his circumstances. On the contrary, at first, he could hardly be prevailed upon to let the scullery alone; but Mr. Fitzwarren took much pains with him, and introduced him to the first characters in town, not omitting the court, as well as the clergy and military, who at that time were reckoned the most agreeable connections.

King Edward the Third being then at war with the French, and preparing for the siege of Rochelle, solicited all the privileged orders in the kingdom for a subsidy to carry on his expedition. The loyalty of the city of London induced them to offer a large gift in their corporate capacity. In this scheme Mr. Whittington joined, and paid in £10,000, an astonishing sum in those days from an individual; but the military ardour of the country has always been remarkable; hence it is not wonderful that an enterprising and fortunate young man should come forward with so large a sum, when it is considered that history has almost left us in the dark as to the remuneration expected. Be this as it may, history places it in the 46th year of the king's reign, A. D. 1372.

What contributed much at this time in favour of Whittington, was the absence of the Lombard merchants, who withdrew themselves from London, on account of the oppression of the king, which became excessive towards the latter end of his reign, for continual draughts to support his ambition in France. These, and the Jews abroad, conducted at that time the whole financial commerce of the city of London; but Mr. Whittington, upon their departure, came in for a considerable share of it.

We are now regularly come to the last year of king Edward's reign, the fifty-second, when the Lords and Commons granted the king a poll-tax, at four-pence a head, for every man and woman passing the age of fourteen years, beggars excepted. The clergy at the same time granted twelve-pence for every person beneficed; and of all other religious persons, four-pence by the poll, the four orders of Friars Mendicants only excepted. Here it is worth observing, that the king demanding of the city of London to advance him £4000, upon this poll, and the Mayor, Adam Staple, proving backward in performing the same, he was by the king turned out of that office, and Sir Richard Whittington put into his place, to finish the year; and this is the first mention of his being knighted, and of his great importance in the city at that time, being only about ten years after his arrival there, in circumstances so widely different.

According to Stow, Sir Richard Whittington was a great dealer in wool, leather, cloth, and pearls, which were universally worn at that time by the ladies. In 1377, the first year of king Richard II. he was called by summons to the parliament that met at London, which commenced at Michaelmas, and lasted till the feast of St. Andrew, when it was dissolved by the mutinous conduct of the Londoners, and adjourned to Northampton the following year, where was passed the noted poll-tax, the collecting of which occasioned and created the rebellion of Wat Tyler and Jack Straw.

In 1395, the eighteenth of this king's reign, Edmund, duke of York, the king's uncle, held a parliament at London, the king being absent in Ireland; and relating to the citizens the great streights the king was reduced to in Ireland, they granted him a tenth upon their personal estates; first protesting that they were not in rigour of right obliged to it, but that they did it out of affection. The mission to this parliament, we are particularly informed by Sir Robert Cotton, from Leland's papers, was managed by the uprightness and good judgment of Sir Richard Whittington.

Thus he grew in riches and fame the most considerable of the citizens, greatly beloved by all, especially the poor, several hundreds of whom he publicly or secretly assisted or supplied.

About this time it was that he married his master's daughter, Miss Fitzwarren; and at their wedding were present, among other noble characters, the Lord Mayor, Aldermen &c. &c.

According to the pretorian banner, once existing in Guildhall, but since destroyed by the fire which consumed the city archives, Whittington served his first mayoralty in 1397. He was now near forty years of age, of a goodly form, and chosen into the office by his fellow citizens, whose approbation of his conduct, after his having once before filled the office, when king Edward put him in, is a sound and substantial proof that he was a good, loyal, and patriotic man.

Sir Richard's second mayoralty occurred in 1406, in the reign of Henry IV. His third and last service of mayor happened in 1419, in Henry the Fifth's time, in which situation he behaved with his usual prudence. Though age had now taken off much of his activity, yet he was the most vigilant magistrate of his time. Soon after Henry's conquest of France, Sir Richard entertained him and his queen at Guildhall, in such grand style, that he was pleased to say, "Never prince had such a subject;" and conferred upon some of the aldermen the honour of knighthood.

At this entertainment, the king particularly praised the fire, which was made of choice wood, mixed with mace, cloves, and all other spices; on which Sir Richard said, he would endeavour to make one still more agreeable to his majesty, and immediately tore, and threw into the fire, the king's bond for 10,000 marks, due to the company of Mercers; 12,500 to the Chamber of London; 21,000 to the Mercers, Staplers, Goldsmiths, Haberdashers, Vintners, Brewers, and Bakers; 3,000 marks each. "All these, (said Sir Richard,) with divers others sent for the payment of your soldiers in France, I have taken in and discharged, to the amount of £60,000 sterling. Can your majesty desire to see such another sight?" The king and nobles were struck dumb with surprise at his wealth and liberality.

Sir Richard spent the remainder of his days in honourable retirement at home, in his house in Grub-street, beloved by the rich and the poor. By his wife he left two sons, some of whose posterity are still worthy citizens. He built many charitable houses, founded a church in Vintry ward, and dedicated it to St. Michael. Here he built a handsome vault, for the sepulchre of his father and mother-in-law, and the remainder of the Fitzwarren family, and where himself and wife lay afterwards.

This Richard Whittington was (in this church) three times buried; first by his executors, under a fair monument; then in the reign of Edward VI. the parson of that church, thinking some great riches (as he said) to be buried with him, caused his monument to be broken, his body to be spoiled of his leaden sheet, and again the second time to be buried; and in the reign of queen Mary, the parishioners were forced to take him up to wrap him in lead, as afore, to bury him a third time, and to place his monument, or the like, over him again; which remained, and so he rested, till the great fire of London violated his resting-place again.

This church of St. Michael Pater-noster in the Vintry, the Capital House, and site thereof, called Whittington College, alias Whittington, and one garden belonging to the same, of the yearly value of four pounds, six shillings, and eight-pence, was sold to Armagill Waad, clerk of the council, in the second of Edward VI. for ninety-two pounds two shillings.

In 1413, he founded an alms-house and college in the Vintry, which was afterwards suppressed by order of council in king Edward the Sixth's time: but his alms-houses on College-hill remain; these are under the direction of the Mercer's company, who allow each pensioner 3s. 10d. per week.

Sir Richard built the gate and prison of Newgate as it formerly stood; gave large sums to Bartholomew's Hospital; founded a Library in Grey Friars; endowed Christ's Hospital with a considerable sum; built Guildhall chapel, and the east end of the Hall.

Dame Alice, his wife, died in the 63d year of her age; after which he never re-married, though he outlived her near twenty years. At last he died like the patriarch, full of age and honour, leaving a good name to posterity; and the following epitaph was cut on the upper stone of his vault, and continued perfect till destroyed by the fire of London:--

M. S.

Beneath this stone lies Whittington, Sir Richard rightly nam'd; Who three times Lord Mayor serv'd in London, In which he ne'er was blam'd.

He rose from Indigence to Wealth, By Industry and that, For lo! he scorn'd to gain by stealth, What he got by a Cat.

Let none who reads this verse despair Of Providence's ways: Who trust in him, he'll make his care, And prosper all their days.

Then sing a requiem to departed merit, And rest in peace till death demands his spirit.

THE TRAVELLING FAQUIRS.

The following curious circumstance in natural history is related by a gentleman of veracity, learning, and abilities, who filled a considerable post in the Company's Service in India.--

The TRAVELLING FAQUIRS in this country are a kind of superstitious devotees, who pretend to great zeal in religion, but are, in fact, the most vicious and profligate wretches in the world. They wander about the country here, as the gipsies do with you; and having some little smattering of physic, music, or other arts, they introduce themselves by these means wherever they go. One of them called a few days ago at my house, who had a beautiful large snake in a basket, which he made rise up and dance about to the tune of a pipe on which he played.

It happened that my out-house and farm-yard had for some time been infested with snakes, which had killed me several turkeys, geese, ducks, fowls, and even a cow and a bullock. My servants asked this man whether he could pipe these snakes out of their holes, and catch them? He answered them in the affirmative, and they carried him instantly to the place where one of the snakes had been seen. He began piping, and in a short time the snake came dancing to him: the fellow caught him by the nape of the neck, and brought him to me. As I was incredulous, I did not go to see this first operation; but as he took this beast so expeditiously, and I still suspected some trick, I desired him to go and catch another, and went with him myself to observe his motions. He began by abusing the snake, and ordering him to come out of his hole instantly, and not be angry, otherwise he would cut his throat and suck his blood. I cannot swear that the snake heard and understood this elegant invocation. He then began piping with all his might, lest the snake should be deaf; he had not piped above five minutes, when an amazing large cobra capella (the most venomous kind of serpent) popped his head out of a hole in the room. When the man saw his nose, he approached nearer to him, and piped more vehemently, till the snake was more than half out, and ready to make a dart at him; he then piped only with one hand, and advanced the other under the snake as it was raising itself to make the spring. When the snake darted at his body, he made a snatch at his tail, which he caught very dexterously, and held the creature very fast, without the least apprehension of being bit, until my servants dispatched it. I had often heard this story of snakes being charmed out of their holes by music; but never believed it, till I had this ocular demonstration of the fact. In the space of an hour the Faquir caught five very venomous snakes close about my house.[26]

INCUBUS, OR NIGHTMARE.

This strange affection or complaint, which is more generally known by the term _Nightmare_, than by that of _Incubus_, has obtained a considerable degree of notice in the world, from the singular manner in which it seizes its victims. The term Incubus is derived from the Latin _incubare_, signifying to _sit_ or _lie upon_, which very forcibly expresses the nature of the disease. Hence, many have thought, and they even continue to think, that some incomprehensible creature, being, or agent, actually sits or lies upon them while sleeping, from which they suffer acute torment and oppression, bordering on suffocation. Many also have even affirmed, that while they have been lying perfectly awake, they have perceived this nightly tormentor creeping slowly over their feet, and have watched its advances until it has taken its seat on the breast, and inflicted those severe sufferings which no language can fully describe. But we shall consider the nightmare rather as a disease, than the creature of imagination.

This disorder seizes persons while sleeping, who imagine that they feel an extraordinary compression or weight about the breast and stomach, which they cannot by any effort shake off. In this agony they sigh, groan, and utter indistinct sounds; sometimes they cry out, but more frequently they attempt to speak, or to move in vain. These feelings give rise to various frightful suggestions of the imagination: the patient fancies himself to be struggling with strong men or devils, or to be in a house on fire, or in danger of being drowned in the sea or some river; and in attempting to run away from danger, or climb up a hill, he fancies he falls back as much after every step as he had advanced before. At length the sensations of oppression become intolerable, and the patient awakes; but the terror excited by the frightful ideas attending the nightmare, leaves often a palpitation of the heart, with great anxiety and languor, and sometimes a tingling of the ears, and a tremor over the whole body.