Some Time

LORD MAYOR OF LONDON.

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BY

VICESIMUS BLINKINSOP, L.L.D., F.R.S., A.S.S., &c.

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LONDON:

PRINTED FOR WILLIAM WRIGHT,

46, FLEET-STREET.

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1820.

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TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS

AUGUSTUS FREDERICK, DUKE OF SUSSEX,

Earl of Inverness, and Baron Arklow:

President of the Society of Arts; Grand Master of the United Grand Lodge of the Ancient Masons of England; Colonel of the Honourable Artillery Company; Colonel Commandant of the Loyal North Britain Volunteers; Vice President of the Bible Society; of the Infirmary for Asthma, Union Street, Bishopsgate; of the London Dispensary, Artillery Street, Bishopsgate; and of the Public Dispensary, Bishop's Court, Chancery Lane; of the Universal Medical Institution, Ratcliff Highway; of the Original Vaccine Pock Institution, Broad Street, Golden Square; of the Free Masons' Charity, St. George's Fields, and one of the Trustees of the same; Patron of the Mile End Philanthropic Society; Vice Patron of the Westminster General Dispensary, 32, Gerrard Street, Soho; of the Society for the Relief of the Ruptured Poor; of the Universal Dispensary for Children, St. Andrew's Hill, Doctors' Commons; of the Lancasterian School Society, Borough Road; Patron of the Choral Fund, and of the Northern Dispensary, Duke's Road, New Road; Vice President of Queen Charlotte's Lying-in Hospital, Lisson Green; of the Benevolent Institution for delivering Married Women at their own Habitations, Hungerford Coffee House, Strand; and of the General Central Lying-in Charity, Great Queen Street, Lincoln's Inn Fields; Knight of the Garter; President of the Beef Steak Club; One of His Majesty's most Honourable Privy Council; and a FISHMONGER.[27]

Sir,—Your connexion with the fine arts and the city of London so honourably celebrated in the preceding enumeration of your titles, is a combination of merits wholly unexpected and unprecedented. You alone, Sir, among the members of scientific bodies, can glory in being a Fishmonger; and you alone, among Fishmongers, can boast of being President of the Society of Arts.

Glorious, and more truly honourable, than rank or ribbons, is the list of the numerous charities of which your Royal Highness is the ostensible head. It may seem, at first sight, inconsistent with the Christian precepts to give so much notoriety to benevolent actions; but, even in this view, your Royal Highness's conduct is above all imputation: that precept applies to the hand, and not to the head; and though your Royal Highness gives your great personal weight to the chair of those associations, your worst enemy cannot say that you were ever known to give any thing else. Your left hand (which, agreeably to the scriptural suggestion, is as discerning as your Royal Highness's intellect) does certainly not know of any particular charity, performed by your Royal Highness's right hand.

You are thus enabled, Sir, to extend the sphere of your utility and beneficence. Actual donations must have had a limit; but the charity which costs nothing, may, as we see in your Royal Highness's case, be indefinitely extended, to the great encouragement and increase of the contributions of others.

To all the above mentioned distinctions, equally high, equally honourable, and equally deserved, your Royal Highness, on the principle just stated,—that you have still countenance enough to bestow on meritorious institutions,—has intimated your gracious intention of succeeding Sir Joseph Banks as President of the Royal Society. Amongst your many and obvious claims to this situation, the first is, that you are a fishmonger; for thus your Royal Highness will be in a condition to solve that celebrated problem propounded to the Society by its Royal Founder Charles the Second, and which has not been yet satisfactorily explained, relative to the respective gravities of fish, dead or alive. Nor if the late President had been a fishmonger, would the Society have been involved in the failure and disgrace of that experiment which the indignant poet has immortalized by the line

But though I could not avoid touching upon these matters, it is as a citizen of London, and as the condescending friend of our most patriotic magistrates—our modern Whittingtons—that I presume to address your Royal Highness, and to solicit your favour to an essay towards the history of that great man, the honour of which cannot fail to be reflected on his successors; and in addition to this gracious patronage for myself, I am charged by others to solicit your Royal Highness, to be pleased to lend your name as President to a new literary and most useful association, held in Bearbinder Lane, at the back of the Mansion House, called "The Whittington Institution, for teaching Aldermen to read, write, cypher, and dance, on Mr. Lancaster's system."

In humble hope of your Royal Highness's most gracious condescension, I have the honour to remain, Sir,

Your Royal Highness's

Most devoted and obedient Servant,

Vicesimus Blinkinsop.

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TENTAMEN, &c.

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In looking at the propensities of the age we live in, comparatively with those of times past, one cannot fail to observe a laudable love for the noble science of antiquities: of which it may be truly said, that it is conversant with peaceful and unoffending yesterdays, while the idle votaries of the world are busied about to-day, and the visionaries of ambition are dreaming of to-morrow.

Connected with this grave and useful pursuit is the general inclination to search into the minutiÆ of history, which never before prevailed amongst us in so ardent a degree. The smallest information upon traditional points is received with an avidity more salutary and commendable than that which is the result of a commonplace love of novelty; and the smaller the information, the greater the merit of the painstaking author; who, like a skilful clock-maker, or other nice handy-craftsman, is lauded in proportion to the minuteness of his work.

Such are, for instance, the valuable discoveries which that excellent philosopher and novelist Mr. Godwin hath made and edited, of and concerning the great poet Chaucer; and, inasmuch as the nice and small works of clock-makers, which we have mentioned, are carefully placed in huge towers and steeples, beyond malicious or impertinent curiosity, so this prudent philosopher hath disposed his small facts in two tall volumes, equally out of the reach of the vulgar.

Such also are those valuable illustrations of the private lives of public men which have issued from the Press under the titles of "Ana," "Remains," and "Memoirs," and which have so admirably answered the purposes for which they were put forth—namely, that of being sold—while they at the same time maintain a discreet silence on all matters which the ingenious subject of the biography might wish to conceal, agreeably to that excellent maxim, de mortuis nil nisi bonum: by these means, such treatises become a delectable kind of reading, wherein nothing is admitted which can hurt the feelings of any of the worthy persons mentioned in the course of the work, particularly if they be deceased. This mode of writing conduces to good humour and charity amongst men, and manifestly tends, as Dr. Johnson observes on another occasion, to raise the general estimate of human nature.

On these principles and considerations have I been induced, at no small cost of time and labour, to endeavour to throw a new light upon the life of Matthew Whittington, some time Mayor (or Lord Mayor, as the courtesy goeth) of this worthy City of London,—a man, whose fame needs no addition, but only to be placed in a proper point of view, to challenge the admiration of a grateful posterity of Mayors and Aldermen.

In humble imitation of my aforesaid friend Mr. Godwin, and of divers other well-reputed authors, I have written this life in one hundred and seventy-eight quires of foolscap paper, in a small and close, but neat hand; which by my computation, having counted the number of words therein contained, as well as the number of words in the learned Bishop Watson's life of himself (which made my excellent friend Dr. Snodgrass, who lent me the same, facetiously declare, that I was the only man he ever knew who could get through it); I say, having counted all these words, I find that my life of Mr. Whittington (including thirteen quires on the general history of Cats) would, if duly printed after the manner of Mr. Davison, who never puts more than sixteen lines into a quarto page, make or constitute five volumes of a similar size and shape to Dr. Watson's life, which, with cuts by Mr. John Britton, author of several curious topographical works, might be sold for the reasonable sum of £31 10s., being only six guineas the volume; and if it should please the Legislature, in its wisdom, to repeal the Copy-right Bill (by which costly books are made accessible to poor students at the Universities, who have no business with such sort of works), my said work might be furnished at the reduced price of £31 4s. 6d.

But small as this sum is, it is with grief I say, that such is the badness of the times, occasioned by the return of peace, and the late long succession of plentiful harvests, that I find booksellers strangely reluctant to embark in this transaction with me.[28] They offer indeed to print my work if I can get it previously praised in the Edinburgh Review; and the Reviewers say, that they are not unwilling to praise it, but that it must, of a necessity, be previously printed.

I have observed to Mr. Jeffrey in my seventh letter to him on this subject, that this condition is not only new and injurious to me, but, by his own showing, clearly gratuitous and unnecessary; because, for aught that appears in the generality of his articles, he may never have read the work which is the subject-matter of them; nay, it hath sometimes been proved from the context, that he never hath even seen the work at all; and as this little accident hath not hindered his writing an excellent essay under colour of such work, so I contended, that he need not now make the preliminary sine qu non, as to having my work printed; for "de non impressis et de non lectis eadem est ratio."

But I grieve to say, that all my well-grounded reasoning hath been unavailing; and as neither party will give up his notion, I stand at a dead lock between the booksellers and reviewers.

In this dilemma, I should—like Aristotle's celebrated ass—have starved till doomsday; but that, through the kindness and prudent advice of my learned friends Mr. Jonas Backhouse, Jun. of Pocklington, and the Rev. Doctor Snodgrass of Hog's-Norton, I have been put upon a mode of extricating myself, by publishing, in a small form, a tentamen, specimen, or abridgement of part of my great work, which I am told Mr. Jeffrey will not object to review, he being always ready to argue "À particulari ad universale:" so that, in future time, the learned world may have hope of seeing my erudite labours at full length, whereof this dissertation is a short and imperfect sample or pattern.

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The whole history of the illustrious Whittington is enveloped in doubt. The mystery begins even before he is born; for no one knows who his mother, and still less who his father, was. We are in darkness as to where he first saw the light, and though it is admitted that he most probably had a Christian name, adhuc sub judice lis est, as to what that Christian name was.

This important point, however, my revered friend, the Rev. Dr. Snodgrass of Hog's-Norton hath enabled me to decide.

Tradition has handed down to us that Whittington was a charity boy, as it is called, and received the rudiments of letters at the parish school of Hog's-Norton aforesaid; this clue directed the Doctor's researches, and by that enlightened zeal for which he was conspicuous, he has been so fortunate as to discover rudely carved on the wainscot by some fellow-pupil,

M. W. IS A FOOL;
M. W. IS A DUNCE;
And one, which is more satisfactory,
M——W, W. IS A STUPID DOG,
1772.

This date seems at first sight to apply to a period long posterior to Mr. Whittington; but when we recollect how often the wisest men, the most careful copyists, the most expert printers, mistake dates and transpose figures, we are not to be surprised at a similar error in an unlettered and heedless school-boy; and therefore, as Dr. Snodgrass judiciously advises—(a noble conjecture indeed, which places the critic almost on a level with the original writer)—the mistake may be corrected by the simple change of placing the figures in their obvious proper order, 1277, which, as Mr. Whittington is known to have been Sheriff or Mayor about the year 1330, when he was probably near sixty, shews that he was about seven when at Hog's-Norton; and proves incontestably, that to him and him alone these ancient and fortunately discovered inscriptions refer.

Having established their authenticity, it is easy to show that Mr. Whittington's name was not Richard, as the vulgar fondly imagine; R, and not M, being the initial of Richard; and we might perhaps have doubted between Matthew, Mathias, Moses, Melchisedec or Mark; but the concluding W. of the last inscription seems to settle the matter in favour of Matthew, which is the only name that I know of in ordinary use which begins with M, and ends, as all the world sees, with a W.

I shall say little of an erroneous supposition—built on the strength of the words "fool," "dunce," and "stupid dog;" and on the manifestly mistaken date,—which would refer these characteristic sentences to a worthy alderman now alive; (with whose initials they do, indeed, by a strange accident, agree.) Such a supposition is clearly false and untenable, as may be proved by one decisive observation, inter alia; that they appear to be the work of some jealous rival, displeased at Mr. Whittington's superior ability: perhaps they were even engraved by a fraud on the parish furniture, after Mr. Whittington's rise had given some handle to envy; whereas it is well known and universally admitted, to be the happiness of the worthy alderman now alive, that no human being either ever did, or could envy him:—this sets that important question asleep for ever.

It may seem to some readers that these epithets,—opprobria, as some may think them,—do not redound to the credit of Mr. Alderman Whittington's intellect; but even if they are not, as before suggested, the production of envy, they are by no means inconsistent with Whittington's successful progress in life; on the contrary, they seem to designate him as a person who would naturally rise to City honours. It is grown to be a proverb, and admitted by the best writers on the subject, that Lord Mayors are "stupid dogs."[29] The City hath a prescription to choose "fools," for places of honour therein; and, as Matthew was at least twice Lord Mayor, he might with great propriety have been twice as great a fool as any of the others.

This leads me to the important consideration of how often the illustrious Matthew had the honour of so worthily filling the Civic throne.

An ancient and well-known ballad has this beautiful, and indeed important, rhyme,—

Some copies indeed, and one in particular, (penis R. Pria Knight, F.R.S.) have it "thrice." This, however, on a careful collation with all the best MSS. and some very fair black-letter editions, has been most satisfactorily disproved: it has crept into the old versions, either from the well-known predilection for the trine number; or, from the writer's having composed the work during Matthew's second Mayoralty, when, as it appears from some old papers in the Tower, he, as well as many of his zealous friends, had a notion that he would have been again elected to the dignified office which he had for two successive years filled so satisfactorily—to himself.

That such a re-election would have delighted him, nobody can doubt, who is aware of the fact of his being so anxious to discharge correctly the duties of his great office, that he practised the part,—or, as it is in one account quaintly phrased, played at Lord Mayor,—for some time before he had attained the station; and for many years after he had passed the chair, evinced his gratitude by keeping up the same laudable practice. An old account of one of his private dinners states, that even to the day of his death, when he was at home, he sat in state at the head of his table, with his loving spouse beside him, and his chief guest, if it were but the deputy of the ward, upon his right, while the other members of his family were ranged as regularly in order as if they had been at the Easter dinner in the Mansion House.

As it affects Mr. Whittington's character, the little variation between twice and thrice is at present quite immaterial. He that deserved to be twice Lord Mayor could hardly have been additionally ennobled by having been so three or more times; and, considering that the statements rest on public rumour, and, perhaps, the partiality of friends, of which not one-half is generally true, it seems a not unfair proportion to believe two-thirds.

But, proud as Matthew naturally was at his double elevation, for he had sitten on the two forks of the civic Parnassus, it seems that in a subsequent period of his life he began to grow weary of his legitimate honours, and bursting from that civic chrysalis, the alderman's gown, strove to soar by gaudier flights into what it may be imagined he deemed better company. But the City Icarus tried his wings, there is reason to suppose, in a temperature somewhat too glowing; and if it were not for that indulgent principle of modern biography to which I have alluded, of saying nothing disagreeable either of the living or dead, I might be able to show that Matthew had earned the detestation of some, the ridicule of others, and the contempt of all, and forfeited much of that grave respect which aldermen are heirs to, by presuming to meddle with things the which he could of no possibility understand.

The several particulars of his life upon which the old Chronicles are at variance, and which in my large work I think I may—absit invidia—say, I have reconciled and explained, are these:—

1. His political principles.

2. His trade, and what it really was.

3. The quality of his intellect.

4. The quantity[31] of his intellect.

5. Whether the bells did preternaturally ring his recall to London; or, whether it were merely the force of his own vanity which gave this favourable meaning to an idle sound.

6. Whether he really was maltreated, as tradition reports, by a kitchen-maid.

7. What sort of company he kept.

8. What the Cat was by which he rendered himself chiefly notorious, and whether his famous expedition to catch the Cat was undertaken prior, or subsequently, to his second Mayoralty.

9. And lastly, whether he died a natural or disgraceful death.

All these are points at issue, and will probably so continue till the publication of my great work, except one, namely, the 8th, which relates to his memorable Cat, upon which it is my intention to offer in this opusculum some lights and solutions.

History cannot perhaps be impartially written during the lives of those to whom it relates, and the nine-fold term of existence assigned to the feline species has probably been the cause of much of the misrepresentation which we are, alas! doomed to deplore; but sufficient time has now elapsed since Whittington, and even since his Cat, left the world, to have destroyed every particle of prejudice, and it is a great satisfaction to me to be able to speak plainly upon the subject, without the fear of an imputation of any feeling, other than a strict love of truth and justice, tempered and directed by that candid resolution which I have avowed, of not saying a harsh thing even of a dead Cat.

As some of the hypotheses upon the very intricate subject of the Cat, suppose her to have been a human female, it seems proper, in limine, to satisfy the fair sex, by setting at rest the disputes which have hitherto existed as to Matthew's personal appearance. We always feel more interested in a hero after he has been described to us, even if (as it is in this case) his tout-ensemble should happen not to be particularly engaging; indeed, who can be so extravagant and preposterous as to look for personal beauty in an alderman? It is therefore not derogating from his great character to confess that Matthew Whittington, to judge of him by a woodcut (the only genuine likeness extant), had one of those hard and vulgar faces which resemble the heads of certain clumsily-carved walking-sticks, or tobacco-stoppers, in which a fixed smile relaxes (by the mere comicality of its brisk and vulgar self-satisfaction) the muscles of the beholders. Mr. W. seemed to smile eternally at himself, and the smile was so contagious, that few could look at him without laughing.

It is also necessary towards understanding what is to follow, that I should touch a little on the progress of this great man to the mercantile eminence which he afterwards (whether by means of the Cat or not) attained.

It is known that the Kings of England have a private, or rather a notoriously public, mark, whereby they distinguish their property, known to the initiated as the King's Broad Arrow, but vulgarly called the King's Broad R. This mark is held up by all "dealers in marine stores" of these our days to their children as the Scylla of their voyage through life. They are taught never to purloin (if there be any other within reach) any timber, thick stuff, or plank, or iron or copper bolts, belaying-pins, gudgeons, stauncheons, fastenings or sheathing, or any other article having on or about it the King's Broad Arrow by "stamp, brand, or otherwise," and carefully to abstain (as far as possible) from meddling with any cordage of three inches and upwards wrought with a white thread the contrary way (which thread is improperly called the rogue's yarn) or any canvas wrought or unwrought with a blue streak in the middle; or any bewper wrought with one or more streaks of raised white tape, as they believe in and fear the 22 Charles II., cap. 5; the 9 and 10 William III., cap. 41; 9 George I., cap. 8; 17 George II., cap. 40; 39 and 40 George III., cap. 89, sects. 5 and 6 most especially.[32]

Unfortunately, Mr. Whittington early in life formed an intimacy with a man whose name was Joshua, who, for want of proper tuition, had fallen foul, not exactly of the above-named statutes (inasmuch as they were enacted long after his demise, and were therefore, strictly speaking, not applicable to him) but of sundry others, partly confirmed and partly repealed by the 31 of Elizabeth, cap. 4, which unfortunately affected him, since he was detected in the fact of adapting to his own use sundry marked articles appertaining to our then liege sovereign, Edward I. This Joshua was of a very low origin, and was ironically called Joshua the son of none, never having an ostensible father or mother; to which untoward circumstance may be charitably attributed the errors into which he was occasionally betrayed. The first notion of property which a child receives, is from being told, I am your parent; you are my son; this is your milk; that is his bread. The poor innocent who does not receive this early instruction is naturally deficient in this particular; whence it happens that such persons are generally found rather lax in their principles of meum and tuum to the end of their lives; which, however, by an equal dispensation of Providence, are usually shortened by a special interposition of the law.

Matthew's affection, we are led to believe, was less for this man's qualities than for his property; and with that characteristic prudence injuriously called cunning, he resolved to live on good terms with him, so that, although he should never run the risk of engaging actively in the acquirement of capital, he might (knowing how bare of branches Joshua's family tree was) at some future period get possession of whatever this receiver-general might have accumulated: indeed, while quite a lad he continually used to say when shewing Joshua's cellars full of iron to any acquaintance—"I consider that one day or other these will all be mine, Sir;" and so eventually they were.

It was in allusion to these hoards, and the means and times by which they were collected, that in the quaint biblical facetiousness of that age it used to be observed, that if Joshua of old had known how to do his business by night, as well as his modern namesake, he need not have desired the sun to stand still; a witticism which Speed records with great delight.

It is after this era in Matthew's life that all the writers are puzzled; it has been ascertained that he was apprenticed to a trade, but what that trade was, or what affinity it bore to the traffic he subsequently carried on, nobody has yet decided. The incident which drove him from his master's house was, as is generally allowed, a beating (or more technically speaking a basting) which the kitchen wench gave him as a punishment for purloining a sop in the pan, a mode of acquiring, to which his admiration of Joshua's proceedings had probably given him a turn.

It is also added, that Whittington had a sneaking kindness, or what is politely called a tendre for the housemaid of the family, who espoused his cause in this very quarrel, and that he never ceased to retain a feeling of gratitude towards one of his fellow-servants commensurate with his just animosity towards the other.

There is a probability on the face of this fact, which is opposed to the story of his attachment to Miss Alice Fitzwarren, his master's daughter. Affections or antipathies formed in youth, and nurtured through life, always manifest themselves in the more marked peculiarities of age, and certain it is that Mr. Whittington when in very different circumstances, maintained his rooted dislike to a Cook, while his favourite remembrance of the housemaid's kindness evinced itself in the respect he openly professed for a Broom, (however cracked or crazy it might be) wherever he saw one.

Having thus selected such preliminary observations as were necessary by way of introduction in the nature of prolegomena, I now approach with equal awe and interest to the main point, which is, as I said before, to ascertain what the Cat was by which Whittington made himself to be so well remembered, and which is inseparable from him in history and imagination. Who thinks of Whittington without thinking of a Cat? Who with any love of sacred antiquity can see a Cat without thinking of Whittington?

An English author records a speech made by a very erudite orientalist and profound scholar, at a meeting of the Society of Antiquarians, which was preserved in the minutes of that society, through the generous care of Mr. S. Foote, and which I am enabled to lay before my readers, by the favour of Sir Richard Phillips, who, for the trifling sum of fifteen shillings, obliged me with the works of that eminent Grecian, for so I presume he was, from his having acquired the surname of Aristophanes.

"Permit me," says the orator, "to clear up some doubts relative to a material and interesting point of the English History. Let others toil to illumine the dark annals of Greece and Rome; my searches are sacred only to the service of Britain.

"That Whittington lived, no doubt can be made; that he was Lord Mayor of London, is equally true; but—as to his Cat—that, gentlemen, is the Gordian knot to untie—and here, gentlemen, be it permitted to me to define what a Cat is—a Cat is a domestic, whiskered, four-footed animal, whose employment is catching of mice; but let a Cat have been ever so subtle, ever so successful, to what could her captures amount?—no tanner could curry the skin of a mouse—no family could make a meal of the meat—consequently, no Cat could give Whittington his wealth—from whence does the error proceed? Be that my care to point out.

"The commerce this wealthy merchant carried on, was chiefly confined to our coasts—for this purpose, he constructed a vessel, which, from its aptness and lightness, he christened a Cat; nay, gentlemen, to this day—all our coals are imported from Newcastle in nothing but Cats—from thence it appears that it was not the whiskered, four-footed—mouse-killing Cat—but the coasting, sailing, carrying Cat—that, gentlemen, was Whittington's Cat."

Vide opera omnia Sam. Foot. Tit. Nabob.——

I cannot, however, consent in this instance to judge "ex pede Herculem." However ingenious this learned gentleman's view of the case may be, we are upon one particular decidedly at issue; and I think I shall be able to shew, that Whittington not only did not derive his wealth from the renowned Cat, but that the Cat was the ultimate cause of his ruin.

One writer, (Ibbotson on Quadrupeds, vol. viii. p. 381,) says, that "Shee was no other than a female of highe ranke and singular kinde harte, who for that shee had a feline dysposition myghtelie affected Masterre Whyttingtone"—"which mistake in the orthography," says my learned friend Backhouse (who seldom errs), "feline being put for feeling—has deluded many into the belief, that it was in truth a four-footed, whiskered, mouse-catching Cat." This ingenious conjecture is supported by the other obvious errors of the same nature in loc. citat. and not a little validated by a curious ballad of the times, which is to be found at this moment in the British Museum (Messalina 2.) and of which I subjoin a copy:—

ANN EXCEEDINGE, EXACTE, AND EXCELLENTE GOODE BALLADE, WRITTEN BY MEE GEOFFRY LYDGATE, UPONNE MASTERRE WHYTTINGTONE HYS CATTE.

This undoubtedly original and authentic document will be of vast use in elucidating many of our difficulties, as I shall hereafter abundantly observe; it is here only quoted in the order of proofs, as supporting Mr. Backhouse's most acute conjecture; which is also greatly strengthened by that profound scholar Mr. Hallam, in his "History of the Middle Ages," who, however, gives a different and more classical ground for the vulgar error——"This great Lady," he says, "was Catta; that is, a German, one of the people called Catti, who inhabited that part of the ancient Germania now called the Duchy of Brunswick."

In opposition to all these opinions, Doctor Snodgrass (whose copious history of the interior of Africa, and genealogy of the kings of Gambia, sufficiently, as the modest Mr. Bowdich[33] justly observes, stamp his merits) inclines to think that a person of Matthew's original habits never could have been thrown into the society of any lady of high rank, who had a regard for her character or respectability. He treats the hypothesis of the Cattean Lady with great contempt, considers the authority of the ballad as trivial and obscure; and maintains with all that power of argument, so characteristic of his works, that it was a bona-fide Cat, on which Whittington's hopes at one particular period were placed, but which had no connexion whatever with his pecuniary affairs, and which hopes were moreover in the sequel frustrated.

A more ancient writer still ("Prendergast on Sorcery") makes an assertion which at once confirms and refutes all that has been advanced by my two learned friends, for he distinctly states, that, that which rendered Whittington famous, was both a Cat and an illustrious Lady. Not, indeed, at the same time; but that, being endowed with magical potency, she was competent to assume both forms at pleasure, displaying either the savage temper of the quadruped, or the winning softness of her lovely sex, as best suited her purpose.

The same author says, that while under the appearance of a human being she was capable of performing what in those days passed for miracles; at one time metamorphosing menials and washer-women into Lords and Ladies; causing unknown and portentous stars to appear, and changing by "arte magicale" white into black, and black into white. He also more fully explains in the same way, the strange facts alluded to in the ballad, of her putting off at pleasure the form of a cat, and transforming the several feline attributes and appearances to her followers; giving to one supernatural whiskers; to another, a covering of fur; to a third, eyes that can see best in the dark; to a fourth, the faculty of falling on his legs, whatever may happen, and so forth.

We now live in an incredulous age, and it is not for me to decide whether magical interferences with the ordinary course of nature are to be believed or not. I would rather refer the curious reader to the DÆmonologia of the royal and erudite James; for my part, I neither wholly reject, nor wholly admit, the multitudinous affirmative evidences, which all histories of all countries, in all ages, afford on this subject; but I may be allowed to say in support of Prendergast's hypothesis, that this change of form has, it appears, been by no means uncommon. Le PÈre Jacques d'Autun says, "Baram Roi de Bulgaire prenoit par ses prestiges la figure d'un loup ou d'un autre animal;" and Job Fincel mentions that, "on attrapa un jour un loup garou qui courait dans les Rues de Padoue: on lui coupa ses pates de loup et il reprit au mÊme instant la forme d'homme—mais avec les bras et les pieds coupÉs." These are staggering authorities![34]

I must regret that Prendergast has not explained the origin, so obscurely hinted at in the ballad, of Whittington's connexion with the Cat; but it is at the same time a satisfaction to think, that by the use of the words "would," "could," and "should,"—"likely," "possibly," "probably," and "naturally," "fancy," "research," "inquiry," and "no doubt," (the use of which is so admirably displayed by Mr. Godwin,) I may be enabled to throw some light—lucem dare ex fumo—on several dark parts of this difficult subject.

It can easily be imagined that Whittington, who, with a truly philanthropic disposition, possessed a mind scantily cultivated, would naturally have a turn for the marvellous—indeed, the preternatural interference of the bells of Bow steeple (of which a published life of our hero says, there were then but six),[35] with his destiny and the good fortune resulting from their suggestion, may naturally be supposed to have favoured his predisposition for the miraculous; and therefore when he heard from various sources the stories which were related of the wonderful enchantress in foreign parts, he was animated and delighted, and having more taste for female beauty than knowledge of his native language, was persuaded she was not only the most ill-used personage, but the most lovely woman on earth, from hearing that,—

Prendergast indeed goes so far as to hint, that Whittington himself, from the rapid acquirement of his wealth, lay under the imputation of sorcery, and that he aimed at the attainment of some secrets from the Enchantress to carry on his schemes, which was the chief cause of his devotion to her. The same author says, that he was taxed with concocting a liquor made from noxious weeds and deadly herbs, with which he was enabled to steal away men's senses, and lead them according to his will; but I must be allowed to doubt the truth of this charge,—it seems to be a vulgar revival of the old story of Circe. Looking at the events of his life, there appears to me abundant proof that Matthew was no conjuror.

That Prendergast may have been a victim to superstition I will not deny—that he wrote in the full belief of the lady's preternatural powers is evident; but it is only justice to his historical veracity to say, that in all his commendations of her merits, he falls far short of a French author, the Marquis de St. Cas, who was one of the favourites of Margaret de Valois, the repudiated wife of Henry the IVth, and who wrote a History of a Cat, which has hitherto been mistakenly supposed to be a covert defence of the scandalous life of that lascivious princess; but which, as it now appears, is a sober and discreet history of Whittington's Cat.

One singular and interesting fact to be ascertained from this work, which, let us observe, was not written above two hundred years after the time, and is therefore entitled to great credit on the score of tradition, is, that the French most indubitably allude to the Enchantress we are now treating of, in their celebrated history of The White Cat, which indeed to me appears little other than a version of Whittington's adventures, the English origin of which, that vain and disingenuous people have as carefully suppressed as they since have that of the guillotine—wash-hand basons—the steam engine—snaffle bridles, and the telegraph.[37]

In the Marquis's book may be found recorded the exaggerated accounts of the Enchantress, which were zealously circulated in her own times by the French, and which inflamed and animated Matthew; St. Cas most gallantly repeats (as if he believed) all the praises which his forefathers had lavished upon her, and pictures her as the most fascinating being on earth, so condescending in her manners that the lowest orders of society were more readily admitted to her confidence and acquaintance than those of noble birth and superior qualifications, and of a disposition so forgiving, that if she could anyhow light upon men (no matter who) who had been the creatures and favoured followers of any person or family who from time immemorial had been the bitterest enemies of her house and the country she most loved, these were the particular objects of her care and protection—for those were all her powers exerted, the magic of all her charms displayed. This predilection for the destroyers of her relations, the Marquis adduces as one of the most amiable traits of "La belle SorciÈre."

And here again we are presented with a confirmation of Mr. Backhouse's hypothesis, that all the vulgar mistaken notions about this great lady are occasioned by errors of the press; for in the first edition of St. Cas (Lyons, 1609) the word sorciÈre is printed souriciÈre, which means, as the learned reader well knows, "a mouse-catcher."

Perhaps, however, the printer may not be wholly to blame on this point, inasmuch as the Marquis himself distinctly alludes to her having assumed the form of a Cat, which he seems to consider a state of honour—"The Cat," says he, "is a privileged animal;" and then proceeds to narrate the following story in support of his assertion:—

"Mahomet avoit beaucoup d'Égards pour son Chat.—Ce vÉnÉrable animal s'Était un jour couchÉ sur la manche pendante de la veste du ProphÈte, et semblait y mediter si profondÉment que Mahomet pressÉ de se rendre À la PriÈre, et n'osant le tirer de son extase, coupa la manche de sa veste. A son retour, il trouva son chat qui revenait de son assoupissement extatique, et que s'appercevant de l'attention de son maÎtre À la vue de la manche coupÉe, se leva, pour lui faire la revÉrÉnce, dressa la queue, et plia le dos en arc, pour lui tÉmoigner plus de respect. Mahomet qui comprit À merveille ce que cela signifiait, assura au saint homme de chat une place dans son Paradis. Ensuite lui passant trois fois la main sur le dos, il lui imprima, par cet attouchement, la vertu de ne jamais tomber que sur ses pates."

Hence the Marquis argues, that his favourite Enchantress did by no means degrade or bemean herself by the abandonment of her character as a woman, if it were to answer any sufficient purpose she assumed that of a Cat.

The accounts which tradition brought down to the Marquis's time, and has even to our own, would naturally have spread from mouth to mouth all through Europe, at the time when facts so surprising occurred; and Whittington was one of those men who are disposed to believe every thing they do not rightly comprehend, the consequence of which disposition was his almost boundless credulity, and after inflaming his mind with the descriptions of the Enchantress, and the implied restraint under which she laboured, he resolved (from what motive nobody has completely succeeded in discovering) to induce her to visit England.

It is concluded, that a desire for notoriety had no weight with him in this resolution, for never did any man of his time shrink from the applause of the vulgar with such delicate sensibility as Whittington. Hearing his own name spoken aloud in the streets, caused him the greatest uneasiness, and he was moved to anger if any wandering minstrels who were singing his praises, chanced to pass near his residence.

This is stated by Ibbotson (before quoted), and is highly satisfactory, inasmuch as the general impression upon the minds of all those versed in the history, was that most of the little songs of which he was the hero were written either in his house or at least at his suggestion. The friend who favoured me with the copy of the ballad quoted above has furnished me with two stanzas of another, which he found in the same volume, and which proves that Ibbotson's account of Matthew's modesty is perfectly just, for his indifference about, not to say dislike to, popularity (as it is called) was so strong, that such of his partisans as chose to celebrate him in poetry were, in compliance with his scrupulous wishes, compelled to designate him by the initials of his name.

With this proof of his retiring disposition we are the more puzzled in looking at his conduct with respect to the Great Lady, because really, if we had not such powerful evidence as Ibbotson and others have adduced, one could hardly fancy any other incitement to her introduction into the country, than an officious desire to be meddling with things which did not at all concern him, for the mere sake of creating a sensation, of withdrawing the attention of his countrymen from the pursuit of their occupations, to the idle speculation of star-gazing and conjuring, and, in short, of making himself at any rate the Hero of a Story, by which his name might go down to posterity. In this he has certainly succeeded; but the price he has paid for notoriety appears (considering how he disliked it) to have been rather high.

One circumstance has been mentioned, as having probably given his disposition a turn, which is this: the Countess of Mountfort, or as she is called, Jane of Flanders, had visited England about five or six years before the period at which Whittington undertook his renowned expedition. This extraordinary woman, roused by the captivity of a husband to whom she was faithfully attached, had quitted the confined circle of domestic life, to which she was an ornament, and risked everything in the cause of her beloved Count: her party, however (spite of her personal success), declining on every side, she came to London, to solicit succours from the King of England, and to the reception she met with from the populace, and the praises bestowed on Sir Walter Manny, who suggested her appeal to the British Court, is by very many persons attributed the anxiety of Whittington to introduce his Cat or lady to the notice of the people.

But a much more probable account is suggested by the old ballad, and indeed countenanced by other authorities, namely, that a certain knavish lawyer who had, by some means, now unknown, and probably at no time very avowable, got about the Cat, and became intimately connected with all her secrets and mysteries whatever they were, had contrived to get the Cat into a bag, and so far from letting her out of the bag, as she and her followers no doubt expected, he is supposed to have formed the base design of selling the Cat to her enemies.

This account would naturally rouse the indignation of a man, even less high-minded than the illustrious Whittington, who combining, like many modern citizens, generosity with an eye to profit, justly considered that if the Cat were worth anything, he might as well have the gain as the lawyer; and with this magnanimous intention he resolved to get possession of the Cat. Not very much, it would appear, knowing or caring, in the blindness of his enthusiasm, whether she was a Cat or a witch; a great lady, or the devil.

What she really was, appeared afterwards, when the bag came to be opened.[38]

The zealous desire of possessing at all events this demi-human personage, made Whittington quite careless of the consequences of his blind bargain. He anticipated advantages to himself from exhibiting her, which (probably from the apprehension of being laughed at) he never ventured to mention to his nearest friends; a gentle hint on the subject thrown out to his better and bigger half, was received by her with all the rapture one might expect an obscure person to express at the prospect of becoming notorious; for though certain it is that Matthew's views and desires throughout the whole business were untinctured by the smallest wish for Éclat or distinction, we are not prepared to say that his wife might not have cast a longing eye towards the Enchantress's banquets and gaieties, of which such splendid accounts had been given, or that her ambition (for these sort of people are ambitious in their sphere) might not have led her to hope that by the aid of the great lady's magic, her daughter (who had been some time on hand) might attain such an accession either of real property or personal attraction, as might get her respectably established in life.

For the means of carrying his plan into execution quietly and securely, Matthew had recourse to a stratagem, which, although, under the circumstances, perfectly fair, to him was eminently distressing, for the exquisite sensibility with which he shrunk from anything like disguise—equivocation—mis-statement, or deviation from the plain fact, had obtained for him the appellation of honest Whittington; and to maintain his claim to that honourable distinction, was the constant effort of his life.

The stratagem which he adopted is stated to have been this:—It will be recollected, that at the period of which we treat, the staple of wool, leather, and lead was fixed at Calais whither all foreigners were specially invited to traffic, and whence no English merchant was permitted to export English goods. The intercourse between this port and Dover at the first institution of this mart was frequent and general. Thither went Whittington as on a mercantile speculation.

In the various histories of our hero considerable confusion appears to have arisen at this point. The majority of the innumerable authorities which I have quoted in my large work, I think bear me out in declaring that Whittington actually saw his commodity before he brought it to England, and that it assumed the appearance of a woman in order to deceive him.

The difficulty of deciding arises from the improbability that a great lady should so suddenly have abandoned the guidance of her counsellors, who (as they were paid for it) were bound to give her proper advice, and put herself under the care of a "feu Lord Maire;" but that difficulty is met by the consideration that Matthew's eloquence was very celebrated in his day, and that, as his mind was set upon bringing over the prodigy, he doubtlessly exerted its whole force and energy in representing to her the respectability which would infallibly attach itself to her through the rest of her life, from the circumstance of her having been brought into the capital of England under the immediate protection of a man renowned as he was both in his mercantile and political character, and whose important station in the country was so well suited to the introduction of such a personage.

Add to his arguments, his conduct on the occasion; and our surprise at her complying with his wishes will be materially diminished. Could a woman of sense and feeling refuse to throw herself into the care of the man, who, with that wonderful intrepidity and almost incredible presence of mind, which obtained for him the appellation of the brave Whittington, ventured his existence for upwards of three hours and a half upon the water, and undertook a voyage of nearly thirty-two miles (starting late in the evening), in a vessel of not more than one hundred and seventy tons burthen, for her sake! an enterprise which, though in these enlightened days we might be inclined to ridicule, was in those times considered the most surprisingly valorous feat ever compassed by an Alderman.[39]

As for the Cat, whatever shape she took (and there can be little doubt, as my readers will hereafter see, which form she really did assume), she suffered not much from the effects of the water carriage. She had been a great traveller in her time, and, amongst other good company into which she had fallen during her progresses, had been admitted into the Serail at Algiers, where, according to an old poem, it appears, she

"Passed herre tyme amydst ye throng,

As happie as ye deye was long."[40]