DOI Heft:
January to June, 1845
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16521#0210
214
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
Itmdj's Utues of t\)t Illustrious Uotrj ittagors.
SIR RICHARD WHITTINGTON.
he came of Whittington is associated with
what the old chroniclers call a most puissant
cat—a term which is no doubt the origin of
the word pussy cat. Richard Whittington was
born somewhere in Somersetshire—perhaps at
Bath ; and if so, he was one of the Bath chaps
we occasionally see advertised in the windows
of the cheesemongers. His parents died when
he was very young, and in consequence of their
dying, he was reduced to the necessity of scour-
ing the country in search of a livelihood. Having
heard that the streets of London were paved
with silver and gold, a superstition originating
no doubt in the fact of there being a Silver
Street, Golden Square — Dick walked up to
town ; and he had no sooner taken this step
than, being without money, he was compelled
to take another step, namely, a door-step to
sleep upon. In the morning lie began begging,
and was asked if he could work; so it is just
possible that he may have begged the question.
He was requested to make some hay, by a
jolly old cock, who was of course a London
farmer, cultivating probably Lmcoln's-Inn-
fields or Long Acre.
The haymaking season being over, Dick was
as badly off as before, and sat down before a
door in the style of those impostors who chalk
the pavement with assertions of their not
having tasted food for some impossible period.
Mr. Fitzwarren coming home late—perhaps
from a dinner-party — tumbled over Whit-
tington, and, being in that benevolent humour
which conviviality frequently inspires, the merchant asked our hero to
come in and have some supper.
Mr. Fitzwarren, finding in the morning what he had done, sent the boy
into the kitchen to help the cook, who frequently seized the basting-ladle,
and basted him. The footman, an elderly kind-hearted man — in other
words, a sentimental old flunky—often gave him a halfpenny. He was also
a favourite with Miss Alice, his master's
daughter, whose heart he completely won
by climbing after her parrot, who had
hopped on to a scaffold, intending no doubt
to scratch a pole belonging to the scaffold
alluded to. Having earned a penny, he
invested the amount in a cat, that he
might get rid of the rats and mice which
used to flock round his flock bed, in large
quantities. Dick's master having a ship
about to sail, he told all his servants they
might send out something to make a profit on, and Dick, having only
his cat, was induced to speculate by sending her; but the cat being away,
the mice and rats began to play—the deuce with him.
The cook chaffed him about his cat to such an extent that the poor boy
packed up his traps, which did not include a mouse-trap, and walked
as far as Holloway. He took his favourite seat—a
stone—and began to meditate, when Bow bells took
a speaking part, being positively their first and only
appearance in that character.
Turn again, Whittington,
Lord Mayor of London,
were the words they used on that occasion : and
Whittington, thinking the advice to be sound, went
back home, where he arrived before he had been
missed, a proof that his position must have been a
bit of a sinecure.
The ship arrived in Barbary, where the king invited
the captain and mate to dinner, a condescension which
proves that his Barbarian Majesty was not very par-
ticular as to who he had to dine with him. They
were scarcely seated at table when a swarm of rats
and mice began skipping into the spring soup, and
were so exceedingly saucy that they got into all the butter-boats. The
captain proposed the cat, and the king expected he would have brought
a cat-o'-niue-tails, but seeing a eat-o'-one-tail, he expressed his surprise.
The cat instantly rushed up to an alarming premium, at which she
was purchased by the King of Barbarv, \vho seems to have been seized
with a mania for speculating in feline securities. Dick, now Mr., Whit-
tington, went into business ou his own account, traded in Barbican and
Barbary, became very rich, married "his young missus," and was elected,
in 1397, Lord Mayor of London.
As Alderman of the Ward of Vintry, he had been very hospitable, and
shown his attachment to every popular measure, especially to the quart
and the pint, which were measures he never failed to introduce at his
own house, when a friend dropped in upon him.
Whittington was subsequently made a knight ; and, it is said, was
offered a peerage by the title of Baron Bow, or Viscount Hollowat,
but he declined the honour intended for him. In 1406 he was again
Lord Mayor ; and soon after he attended a council at Whitefriars—
probably in Bouverie Street—to arrange about the King's journey to the
Holy Land ; and in 1419 he vindicated Bow Bells from the suspicion of
being brass and humbugs, by becoming for the third time Lord Mayor
of London. It was now that he asked Henry of Agincourt to dine
with him, when he lighted the fires with spice. In a fit of enthusiasm,
Sir Richard Whittington added to the brilliancy of the flare-up by
throwing behind the fire sixty thousand pounds of the King's bonds,
which perhaps were not worth the stamps they were drawn upon.
Whittington died in 1420, having left a will full of bad spelling, and
concluding with the words—" In wytnes we have put our seeles,'' a sen-
tence that would have made the blood of Dilworth run cold, and have
brought a blush into the honest cheek of Mavor.
the king of barbary s battue of rats.
" NOW THEN, STUPID ! "
A wood-cut, which appeared in the last number but one of our peri-
odical, is illustrative of an incident of frequent occurrence in the streets
of London. It represents a blundering old gentleman getting in the way
of an omnibus, the driver of which is saluting him with the exclamation
of "Now then, Stupid ! " On reference to the cut it will be observed
that at the feet of the horses there is a puddle, and that the old gentleman
in question is putting his foot in it.
We beg to call particular attention to the similarity in point of position,
exhibited, in the House of Commons during the late debate on the Irish
Academical Institutions Bill, by Sir Robert Inglis.
Sir James Graham on that occasion, as the propounder of a just and
useful measure, appeared, for once, in a creditable position. He drove
the Government omnibus on the right side. He was going along at a
fair, moderate pace, when Sir Robert Inglis must needs throw himself
in his way in a manner so iusensate, that the whole House might well
have cried out upon him, " Now then, Stupid ! "
Sir Robert Inglis objected to the Government measure, because it
included no provision for the " religious instruction " of the pupils " in
connexion with the institutions to be erected by the Bill." Sir Robert
knew very well that such instruction could only be provided for by the
endowment of conflicting sects. He knew that such endowment was im-
practicable ; nay, that he would have objected to it himself. He was, or
ought to have been, quite aware that the only feasible plan of education
was that propounded by the Government. Yet he opposed that plau. He
prefers, then, utter ignorance—of religion and everything else—to educa-
tion unavoidably separate from " religious instruction." What is to be
said to the advocate of utter ignorance ? What, but " Now then,
Stupid !"
We suppose that Sir Robert Inglis would object to a young man's
taking lessons in German, French, or Italian, unless those lessons involved
theology. He assumes, we take it, that because a student is taught the
mere humanities within his college, he is precluded from acquiring
divinity out of it. Perhaps Sir Robert Inglis would object to a lecture
at the Royal Institution, unless it was accompanied by a sermon. To a
statesman who entertains such sentiments as these, what can we do but
exclaim, " Now then, Stupid ! "
This is not the only occasion on which Sir Robert Inglis has shown
his similarity to the old gentleman in our wood-cut. He opposed the
Catholic Emancipation Bill. Lately he did all the little that in him lay to
obstruct the Grant to Maynooth. The systematic champion of irrational
bigotry, he is always, politically speaking, getting in the way. One of
these days he will assuredly be run over ; and most seriously, and in the
most friendly spirit, would we press upon him the admonition—" Nott
thln\ Stupid !"
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
Itmdj's Utues of t\)t Illustrious Uotrj ittagors.
SIR RICHARD WHITTINGTON.
he came of Whittington is associated with
what the old chroniclers call a most puissant
cat—a term which is no doubt the origin of
the word pussy cat. Richard Whittington was
born somewhere in Somersetshire—perhaps at
Bath ; and if so, he was one of the Bath chaps
we occasionally see advertised in the windows
of the cheesemongers. His parents died when
he was very young, and in consequence of their
dying, he was reduced to the necessity of scour-
ing the country in search of a livelihood. Having
heard that the streets of London were paved
with silver and gold, a superstition originating
no doubt in the fact of there being a Silver
Street, Golden Square — Dick walked up to
town ; and he had no sooner taken this step
than, being without money, he was compelled
to take another step, namely, a door-step to
sleep upon. In the morning lie began begging,
and was asked if he could work; so it is just
possible that he may have begged the question.
He was requested to make some hay, by a
jolly old cock, who was of course a London
farmer, cultivating probably Lmcoln's-Inn-
fields or Long Acre.
The haymaking season being over, Dick was
as badly off as before, and sat down before a
door in the style of those impostors who chalk
the pavement with assertions of their not
having tasted food for some impossible period.
Mr. Fitzwarren coming home late—perhaps
from a dinner-party — tumbled over Whit-
tington, and, being in that benevolent humour
which conviviality frequently inspires, the merchant asked our hero to
come in and have some supper.
Mr. Fitzwarren, finding in the morning what he had done, sent the boy
into the kitchen to help the cook, who frequently seized the basting-ladle,
and basted him. The footman, an elderly kind-hearted man — in other
words, a sentimental old flunky—often gave him a halfpenny. He was also
a favourite with Miss Alice, his master's
daughter, whose heart he completely won
by climbing after her parrot, who had
hopped on to a scaffold, intending no doubt
to scratch a pole belonging to the scaffold
alluded to. Having earned a penny, he
invested the amount in a cat, that he
might get rid of the rats and mice which
used to flock round his flock bed, in large
quantities. Dick's master having a ship
about to sail, he told all his servants they
might send out something to make a profit on, and Dick, having only
his cat, was induced to speculate by sending her; but the cat being away,
the mice and rats began to play—the deuce with him.
The cook chaffed him about his cat to such an extent that the poor boy
packed up his traps, which did not include a mouse-trap, and walked
as far as Holloway. He took his favourite seat—a
stone—and began to meditate, when Bow bells took
a speaking part, being positively their first and only
appearance in that character.
Turn again, Whittington,
Lord Mayor of London,
were the words they used on that occasion : and
Whittington, thinking the advice to be sound, went
back home, where he arrived before he had been
missed, a proof that his position must have been a
bit of a sinecure.
The ship arrived in Barbary, where the king invited
the captain and mate to dinner, a condescension which
proves that his Barbarian Majesty was not very par-
ticular as to who he had to dine with him. They
were scarcely seated at table when a swarm of rats
and mice began skipping into the spring soup, and
were so exceedingly saucy that they got into all the butter-boats. The
captain proposed the cat, and the king expected he would have brought
a cat-o'-niue-tails, but seeing a eat-o'-one-tail, he expressed his surprise.
The cat instantly rushed up to an alarming premium, at which she
was purchased by the King of Barbarv, \vho seems to have been seized
with a mania for speculating in feline securities. Dick, now Mr., Whit-
tington, went into business ou his own account, traded in Barbican and
Barbary, became very rich, married "his young missus," and was elected,
in 1397, Lord Mayor of London.
As Alderman of the Ward of Vintry, he had been very hospitable, and
shown his attachment to every popular measure, especially to the quart
and the pint, which were measures he never failed to introduce at his
own house, when a friend dropped in upon him.
Whittington was subsequently made a knight ; and, it is said, was
offered a peerage by the title of Baron Bow, or Viscount Hollowat,
but he declined the honour intended for him. In 1406 he was again
Lord Mayor ; and soon after he attended a council at Whitefriars—
probably in Bouverie Street—to arrange about the King's journey to the
Holy Land ; and in 1419 he vindicated Bow Bells from the suspicion of
being brass and humbugs, by becoming for the third time Lord Mayor
of London. It was now that he asked Henry of Agincourt to dine
with him, when he lighted the fires with spice. In a fit of enthusiasm,
Sir Richard Whittington added to the brilliancy of the flare-up by
throwing behind the fire sixty thousand pounds of the King's bonds,
which perhaps were not worth the stamps they were drawn upon.
Whittington died in 1420, having left a will full of bad spelling, and
concluding with the words—" In wytnes we have put our seeles,'' a sen-
tence that would have made the blood of Dilworth run cold, and have
brought a blush into the honest cheek of Mavor.
the king of barbary s battue of rats.
" NOW THEN, STUPID ! "
A wood-cut, which appeared in the last number but one of our peri-
odical, is illustrative of an incident of frequent occurrence in the streets
of London. It represents a blundering old gentleman getting in the way
of an omnibus, the driver of which is saluting him with the exclamation
of "Now then, Stupid ! " On reference to the cut it will be observed
that at the feet of the horses there is a puddle, and that the old gentleman
in question is putting his foot in it.
We beg to call particular attention to the similarity in point of position,
exhibited, in the House of Commons during the late debate on the Irish
Academical Institutions Bill, by Sir Robert Inglis.
Sir James Graham on that occasion, as the propounder of a just and
useful measure, appeared, for once, in a creditable position. He drove
the Government omnibus on the right side. He was going along at a
fair, moderate pace, when Sir Robert Inglis must needs throw himself
in his way in a manner so iusensate, that the whole House might well
have cried out upon him, " Now then, Stupid ! "
Sir Robert Inglis objected to the Government measure, because it
included no provision for the " religious instruction " of the pupils " in
connexion with the institutions to be erected by the Bill." Sir Robert
knew very well that such instruction could only be provided for by the
endowment of conflicting sects. He knew that such endowment was im-
practicable ; nay, that he would have objected to it himself. He was, or
ought to have been, quite aware that the only feasible plan of education
was that propounded by the Government. Yet he opposed that plau. He
prefers, then, utter ignorance—of religion and everything else—to educa-
tion unavoidably separate from " religious instruction." What is to be
said to the advocate of utter ignorance ? What, but " Now then,
Stupid !"
We suppose that Sir Robert Inglis would object to a young man's
taking lessons in German, French, or Italian, unless those lessons involved
theology. He assumes, we take it, that because a student is taught the
mere humanities within his college, he is precluded from acquiring
divinity out of it. Perhaps Sir Robert Inglis would object to a lecture
at the Royal Institution, unless it was accompanied by a sermon. To a
statesman who entertains such sentiments as these, what can we do but
exclaim, " Now then, Stupid ! "
This is not the only occasion on which Sir Robert Inglis has shown
his similarity to the old gentleman in our wood-cut. He opposed the
Catholic Emancipation Bill. Lately he did all the little that in him lay to
obstruct the Grant to Maynooth. The systematic champion of irrational
bigotry, he is always, politically speaking, getting in the way. One of
these days he will assuredly be run over ; and most seriously, and in the
most friendly spirit, would we press upon him the admonition—" Nott
thln\ Stupid !"