Whittington and His Cat

In the reign of the famous King Edward III. there was a little boy called
Dick Whittington, whose father and mother died when he was very young. As
poor Dick was not old enough to work, he was very badly off; he got but
little for his dinner, and sometimes nothing at all for his breakfast; for
the people who lived in the village were very poor indeed, and could not
spare him much more than the parings of potatoes, and now and then a hard
crust of bread.

Now Dick had heard a great many very strange things about the great city
called London; for the country people at that time thought that folks in
London were all fine gentlemen and ladies; and that there was singing and
music there all day long; and that the streets were all paved with gold.

One day a large waggon and eight horses, all with bells at their heads,
drove through the village while Dick was standing by the sign-post. He
thought that this waggon must be going to the fine town of London; so he
took courage, and asked the waggoner to let him walk with him by the side
of the waggon. As soon as the waggoner heard that poor Dick had no father
or mother, and saw by his ragged clothes that he could not be worse off
than he was, he told him he might go if he would, so off they set
together.

So Dick got safe to London, and was in such a hurry to see the fine
streets paved all over with gold, that he did not even stay to thank the
kind waggoner; but ran off as fast as his legs would carry him, through
many of the streets, thinking every moment to come to those that were
paved with gold; for Dick had seen a guinea three times in his own little
village, and remembered what a deal of money it brought in change; so he
thought he had nothing to do but to take up some little bits of the
pavement, and should then have as much money as he could wish for.

Poor Dick ran till he was tired, and had quite forgot his friend the
waggoner; but at last, finding it grow dark, and that every way he turned
he saw nothing but dirt instead of gold, he, sat down in a dark corner and
cried himself to sleep.

Little Dick was all night in the streets; and next morning, being very
hungry, he got up and walked about, and asked everybody he met to give him
a halfpenny to keep him from starving; but nobody stayed to answer him,
and only two or three gave him a halfpenny; so that the poor boy was soon
quite weak and faint for the want of victuals.

In this distress he asked charity of several people, and one of them said
crossly: “Go to work, for an idle rogue.” “That I will,” says Dick, “I
will to go work for you, if you will let me.” But the man only cursed at
him and went on.

At last a good-natured looking gentleman saw how hungry he looked. “Why
don’t you go to work my lad?” said he to Dick. “That I would, but I do not
know how to get any,” answered Dick. “If you are willing, come along with
me,” said the gentleman, and took him to a hay-field, where Dick worked
briskly, and lived merrily till the hay was made.

After this he found himself as badly off as before; and being almost
starved again, he laid himself down at the door of Mr. Fitzwarren, a rich
merchant. Here he was soon seen by the cook-maid, who was an ill-tempered
creature, and happened just then to be very busy dressing dinner for her
master and mistress; so she called out to poor Dick: “What business have
you there, you lazy rogue? there is nothing else but beggars; if you do
not take yourself away, we will see how you will like a sousing of some
dish-water; I have some here hot enough to make you jump.”

Just at that time Mr. Fitzwarren himself came home to dinner; and when he
saw a dirty ragged boy lying at the door, he said to him: “Why do you lie
there, my boy? You seem old enough to work; I am afraid you are inclined
to be lazy.”

“No, indeed, sir,” said Dick to him, “that is not the case, for I would
work with all my heart, but I do not know anybody, and I believe I am very
sick for the want of food.”

“Poor fellow, get up; let me see what ails you.” Dick now tried to rise,
but was obliged to lie down again, being too weak to stand, for he had not
eaten any food for three days, and was no longer able to run about and beg
a halfpenny of people in the street. So the kind merchant ordered him to
be taken into the house, and have a good dinner given him, and be kept to
do what work he was able to do for the cook.

Little Dick would have lived very happy in this good family if it had not
been for the ill-natured cook. She used to say: “You are under me, so look
sharp; clean the spit and the dripping-pan, make the fires, wind up the
jack, and do all the scullery work nimbly, or—” and she would shake
the ladle at him. Besides, she was so fond of basting, that when she had
no meat to baste, she would baste poor Dick’s head and shoulders with a
broom, or anything else that happened to fall in her way. At last her
ill-usage of him was told to Alice, Mr. Fitzwarren’s daughter, who told
the cook she should be turned away if she did not treat him kinder.

The behaviour of the cook was now a little better; but besides this Dick
had another hardship to get over. His bed stood in a garret, where there
were so many holes in the floor and the walls that every night he was
tormented with rats and mice. A gentleman having given Dick a penny for
cleaning his shoes, he thought he would buy a cat with it. The next day he
saw a girl with a cat, and asked her, “Will you let me have that cat for a
penny?” The girl said: “Yes, that I will, master, though she is an
excellent mouser.”

Dick hid his cat in the garret, and always took care to carry a part of
his dinner to her; and in a short time he had no more trouble with the
rats and mice, but slept quite sound every night.

Soon after this, his master had a ship ready to sail; and as it was the
custom that all his servants should have some chance for good fortune as
well as himself, he called them all into the parlour and asked them what
they would send out.

They all had something that they were willing to venture except poor Dick,
who had neither money nor goods, and therefore could send nothing. For
this reason he did not come into the parlour with the rest; but Miss Alice
guessed what was the matter, and ordered him to be called in. She then
said: “I will lay down some money for him, from my own purse;” but her
father told her: “This will not do, for it must be something of his own.”

When poor Dick heard this, he said: “I have nothing but a cat which I
bought for a penny some time since of a little girl.”

“Fetch your cat then, my lad,” said Mr. Fitzwarren, “and let her go.”

Dick went upstairs and brought down poor puss, with tears in his eyes, and
gave her to the captain; “For,” he said, “I shall now be kept awake all
night by the rats and mice.” All the company laughed at Dick’s odd
venture; and Miss Alice, who felt pity for him, gave him some money to buy
another cat.

This, and many other marks of kindness shown him by Miss Alice, made the
ill-tempered cook jealous of poor Dick, and she began to use him more
cruelly than ever, and always made game of him for sending his cat to sea.

She asked him: “Do you think your cat will sell for as much money as would
buy a stick to beat you?”

At last poor Dick could not bear this usage any longer, and he thought he
would run away from his place; so he packed up his few things, and started
very early in the morning, on All-hallows Day, the first of November. He
walked as far as Holloway; and there sat down on a stone, which to this
day is called “Whittington’s Stone,” and began to think to himself which
road he should take.

While he was thinking what he should do, the Bells of Bow Church, which at
that time were only six, began to ring, and their sound seemed to say to
him:

“Turn again, Whittington, Thrice Lord Mayor of London.”

“Lord Mayor of London!” said he to himself. “Why, to be sure, I would put
up with almost anything now, to be Lord Mayor of London, and ride in a
fine coach, when I grow to be a man! Well, I will go back, and think
nothing of the cuffing and scolding of the old cook, if I am to be Lord
Mayor of London at last.”

Dick went back, and was lucky enough to get into the house, and set about
his work, before the old cook came downstairs.

We must now follow Miss Puss to the coast of Africa. The ship with the cat
on board, was a long time at sea; and was at last driven by the winds on a
part of the coast of Barbary, where the only people were the Moors,
unknown to the English. The people came in great numbers to see the
sailors, because they were of different colour to themselves, and treated
them civilly; and, when they became better acquainted, were very eager to
buy the fine things that the ship was loaded with.

When the captain saw this, he sent patterns of the best things he had to
the king of the country; who was so much pleased with them, that he sent
for the captain to the palace. Here they were placed, as it is the custom
of the country, on rich carpets flowered with gold and silver. The king
and queen were seated at the upper end of the room; and a number of dishes
were brought in for dinner. They had not sat long, when a vast number of
rats and mice rushed in, and devoured all the meat in an instant. The
captain wondered at this, and asked if these vermin were not unpleasant.

“Oh yes,” said they, “very offensive, and the king would give half his
treasure to be freed of them, for they not only destroy his dinner, as you
see, but they assault him in his chamber, and even in bed, and so that he
is obliged to be watched while he is sleeping, for fear of them.”

The captain jumped for joy; he remembered poor Whittington and his cat,
and told the king he had a creature on board the ship that would despatch
all these vermin immediately. The king jumped so high at the joy which the
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 captain, who knew his business, took this opportunity to set forth the
merits of Miss Puss. He told his majesty; “It is not very convenient to
part with her, as, when she is gone, the rats and mice may destroy the
goods in the ship—but to oblige your majesty, I will fetch her.”

“Run, run!” said the queen; “I am impatient to see the dear creature.”

Away went the captain to the ship, while another dinner was got ready. He
put Puss under his arm, and arrived at the place just in time to see the
table full of rats. When the cat saw them, she did not wait for bidding,
but jumped out of the captain’s arms, and in a few minutes laid almost all
the rats and mice dead at her feet. The rest of them in their fright
scampered away to their holes.

The king was quite charmed to get rid so easily of such plagues, and the
queen desired that the creature who had done them so great a kindness
might be brought to her, that she might look at her. Upon which the
captain 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 captain 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 purred and played with her
majesty’s hand, and then purred herself to sleep.

The king, having seen the exploits of Mrs. Puss, and being informed that
her kittens would stock the whole country, and keep it free from rats,
bargained with the captain for the whole ship’s cargo, and then gave him
ten times as much for the cat as all the rest amounted to.

The captain then took leave of the royal party, and set sail with a fair
wind for England, and after a happy voyage arrived safe in London.

One morning, early, Mr. Fitzwarren had just come to his counting-house and
seated himself at the desk, to count over the cash, and settle the
business for the day, when somebody came tap, tap, at the door. “Who’s
there?” said Mr. Fitzwarren. “A friend,” answered the other; “I come to
bring you good news of your ship Unicorn.” The merchant, bustling
up in such a hurry that he forgot his gout, opened the door, and who
should he see waiting but the captain and factor, with a cabinet of
jewels, and a bill of lading; when he looked at this the merchant lifted
up his eyes and thanked Heaven for sending him such a prosperous voyage.

They then told the story of the cat, and showed the rich present that the
king and queen had sent for her to poor Dick. As soon as the merchant
heard this, he called out to his servants:

“Go send him in, and tell him of his fame;
  Pray call him Mr. Whittington by name.”

Mr. Fitzwarren now showed himself to be a good man; for when some of his
servants said so great a treasure was too much for him, he answered: “God
forbid I should deprive him of the value of a single penny, it is his own,
and he shall have it to a farthing.” He then sent for Dick, who at that
time was scouring pots for the cook, and was quite dirty. He would have
excused himself from coming into the counting-house, saying, “The room is
swept, and my shoes are dirty and full of hob-nails.” But the merchant
ordered him to come in.

Mr. Fitzwarren ordered a chair to be set for him, and so he began to think
they were making game of him, at the same time said to them: “Do not play
tricks with a poor simple boy, but let me go down again, if you please, to
my work.”

“Indeed, Mr. Whittington,” said the merchant, “we are all quite in earnest
with you, and I most heartily rejoice in the news that these gentlemen
have brought you; for the captain has sold your cat to the King of
Barbary, and brought you in return for her more riches than I possess in
the whole world; and I wish you may long enjoy them!”

Mr. Fitzwarren then told the men to open the great treasure they had
brought with them; and said: “Mr. Whittington has nothing to do but to put
it in some place of safety.”

Poor Dick hardly knew how to behave himself for joy. He begged his master
to take what part of it he pleased, since he owed it all to his kindness.
“No, no,” answered Mr. Fitzwarren, “this is all your own; and I have no
doubt but you will use it well.”

Dick next asked his mistress, and then Miss Alice, to accept a part of his
good fortune; but they would not, and at the same time told him they felt
great joy at his good success. But this poor fellow was too kind-hearted
to keep it all to himself; so he made a present to the captain, the mate,
and the rest of Mr. Fitzwarren’s servants; and even to the ill-natured old
cook.

After this Mr. Fitzwarren advised him to send for a proper tailor and get
himself dressed like a gentleman; and told him he was welcome to live in
his house till he could provide himself with a better.

When Whittington’s face was washed, his hair curled, his hat cocked, and
he was dressed in a nice suit of clothes he was as handsome and genteel as
any young man who visited at Mr. Fitzwarren’s; so that Miss Alice, who had
once been so kind to him, and thought of him with pity, now looked upon
him as fit to be her sweetheart; and the more so, no doubt, because
Whittington was now always thinking what he could do to oblige her, and
making her the prettiest presents that could be.

Mr. Fitzwarren soon saw their love for each other, and proposed to join
them in marriage; and to this they both readily agreed. A day for the
wedding was soon fixed; and they were attended to church by the Lord
Mayor, the court of aldermen, the sheriffs, and a great number of the
richest merchants in London, whom they afterwards treated with a very rich
feast.

History tells us that Mr. Whittington and his lady liven in great
splendour, and were very happy. They had several children. He was Sheriff
of London, thrice Lord Mayor, and received the honour of knighthood by
Henry V.

He entertained this king and his queen at dinner after his conquest of
France so grandly, that the king said “Never had prince such a subject;”
when Sir Richard heard this, he said: “Never had subject such a prince.”

The figure of Sir Richard Whittington with his cat in his arms, carved in
stone, was to be seen till the year 1780 over the archway of the old
prison of Newgate, which he built for criminals.