The History of Sir Richard Whittington | Page 3

with his weight in
gold for a cat to kill their mice; and an oyntment to kill their flies,
which he improved within five years to 6000l. in the place, and,
returning to Portugal after fifteen years traffick, became the third man
in the kingdom."[1] Keightley also quotes two similar stories from
Thiele's _Danish Popular Traditions_ and another from the letters of
Count Magalotti, a Florentine of the latter half of the seventeenth
century.
Mr. Lysons gives much information as to the great value of cats in the
Middle Ages, but the writer of the History of Whittington does not lead
us to believe that they were dear in England, for he makes the boy buy
his cat for one penny. The two following titles are from the Stationers'

Registers. The ballad is probably the one subsequently referred to as by
Richard Johnson:--
"The History of Richard Whittington, of his lowe birthe, his great
fortune, as yt was plaied by the Prynces Servants. Licensed to Thomas
Pavyer, Feb. 8, 1604-5."
"A Ballad, called The vertuous lyfe and memorable death of Sir
Richard Whittington, mercer, sometymes Lord Maiour of the honorable
Citie of London. Licensed to John Wright, 16 July, 1605."
The first reference that we find to the cat incident is in the play
Eastward Hoe by Chapman, Ben Jonson, and Marston; for, as the
portrait which was said to have existed at Mercers' Hall is not now
known, it can scarcely be put in evidence. This half-length portrait of a
man of about sixty years of age, dressed in a livery gown and black cap
of the time of Henry VIII. with a figure of a black and white cat on the
left, is said to have had painted in the left-hand upper corner of the
canvas the inscription, "R. Whittington, 1536."
In Eastward Hoe, 1605, Touchstone assures Goulding that he hopes to
see him reckoned one of the worthies of the city of London "When the
famous fable of Whittington and his puss shall be forgotten."
The next allusion is in Thomas Heywood's _If you know not me, you
know nobody_, 2nd part, 1606.
Dean Nowell. "This Sir Richard Whittington, three times Mayor, Sonne
to a knight and prentice to a mercer,
Began the Library of Grey-Friars
in London,
And his executors after him did build
Whittington
Colledge, thirteene Alms-houses for poore men, Repair'd S.
Bartholomewes, in Smithfield,
Glased the Guildhall, and built
Newgate.
Hobson. Bones of men, then I have heard lies;
For I have heard he
was a scullion,
And rais'd himself by venture of a cat.

Nowell. They did the more wrong to the gentleman."
Here it will be seen that, although the popular tale is mentioned, it is
treated as a mere invention unworthy of credence.
The next in point of time is the ballad by Richard Johnson, published in
the Crowne Garland of Goulden Roses (1612), which probably had a
much earlier existence in a separate form. It is the earliest form of the
story of Whittington now in existence.
_A song of Sir Richard Whittington, who by strange fortunes came to
bee thrice Lord Maior of London; with his bountifull guifts and
liberallity given to this honourable Citty._
(To the tune of "Dainty come thou to me.")
"Here must I tell the praise
Of worthie Whittington,
Known to be in
his dayes
Thrice Maior of London.
But of poor parentage
Borne
was he, as we heare,
And in his tender age
Bred up in Lancashire.
Poorely to London than
Came up this simple lad,
Where, with a
marchant-man,
Soone he a dwelling had;
And in a kitchen plast,

A scullion for to be,
Whereas long time he past
In labour
grudgingly.
His daily service was
Turning spits at the fire;
And to scour pots of
brasse,
For a poore scullions hire.
Meat and drinke all his pay,
Of
coyne he had no store;
Therefore to run away,
In secret thought he
bore.
So from this marchant-man
Whittington secretly
Towards his
country ran,
To purchase liberty.
But as he went along
In a fair
summer's morne,
London bells sweetly rung,
'Whittington, back
return!'
'Evermore sounding so,
Turn againe, Whittington;
For thou in time

shall grow
Lord-Maior of London.'
Whereupon back againe

Whittington came with speed,
Aprentise to remaine,
As the Lord
had decreed.
'Still blessed be the bells'
(This was his daily song),
'They my good
fortune tells,
Most sweetly have they rung.
If God so favour me,
I
will not proove unkind;
London my love shall see,
And my great
bounties find.'
But see his happy chance!
This scullion had a cat,
Which did his
state advance,
And by it wealth he gat.
His maister ventred forth,

To a land far unknowne,
With marchandize of worth,
And is in
stories shewne.
Whittington had no more
But this poor cat as than,
Which to the
ship he bore,
Like a brave marchant-man.
'Vent'ring the same,'
quoth he,
'I may get store of golde,
And Maior of London be,
As
the bells have me told.'
Whittington's marchandise,
Carried was to a land
Troubled with
rats and mice,
As they did understand.
The king of that country
there,
As he at dinner sat,
Daily remain'd in