Whittington and His Cat

During the reign of the glorious King Edward III, there lived a boy named Dick Whittington. His father and mother had died when he was very young.
Dick was so small that he couldn’t yet work. Life was hard for the poor lad. He ate sparingly, and often didn’t even have breakfast. The people in his village were poor and could give him nothing but potato peelings and, occasionally, a stale crust of bread.

Now, Dick had heard all sorts of tales about the great city of London. In those days, you see, people in the countryside believed that only noble gentlemen lived in London, who spent their days singing and dancing, and that all the streets of London were paved with pure gold!

One day, as Dick stood by a roadside post, a large wagon pulled by eight horses with bells on their bridles passed through the village. Dick decided that the wagon was heading to the splendid city of London, and, mustering his courage, he asked the carter to take him along.
"Let me walk beside the wagon!" Dick pleaded. "I have no father or mother. And things can’t get any worse for me than they are now."
The carter looked at Dick’s tattered clothes and replied, "Go ahead, if you want!"
And so they set off together.

Dick safely reached London. He was so eager to see the marvelous streets paved with gold that he even forgot to thank the kind carter and rushed off in search of them. He ran from street to street, expecting to find the golden pavement at any moment. Back in the village, he had seen a golden guinea three times and remembered well how much small change it could fetch. He thought to himself: all he had to do was chip off a piece of the pavement, and he’d have as much money as he could ever want.

Poor Dick ran until he was utterly exhausted. He no longer remembered his friend the carter. Finally, by evening, Dick realized that no matter where he went, there was only mud instead of gold. He huddled in a dark corner and cried until he fell asleep.

Little Dick spent the whole night on the street, and in the morning, famished, he got up and wandered through the city. He begged every passerby, "Please spare a halfpenny so I don’t starve to death!" But almost no one stopped or answered—only two or three passersby gave him a coin. The poor boy grew so weak from hunger that he could barely stand.

In despair, he begged a few more passersby, and one of them shouted angrily, "Why don’t you go work for some idle fellow!"
"I’m ready!" Dick replied. "Take me, and I’ll gladly work for you."
But the passerby only cursed him and walked on. Finally, a kind-looking gentleman noticed the hungry boy.
"You should find a job, my dear," he said to Dick.
"I would, but I don’t know where," Dick answered.
"Come with me, if you like," the gentleman said, and he took Dick to a haymaking field.
There, Dick learned to work quickly and lived happily until the haymaking season ended.

After that, he couldn’t find work again and, half-dead from hunger, collapsed at the door of Mr. Fitzwarren, a wealthy merchant. Soon, the cook, a nasty woman, noticed him.
"What do you want here, lazy beggar?" she shouted at poor Dick. "There’s no end to these beggars! If you don’t get out of here, I’ll douse you with dishwater! I’ve got some hot stuff ready. You’ll jump up quick enough!"
But then Mr. Fitzwarren himself returned home for lunch.

He saw the dirty, ragged boy at his doorstep and asked, "Why are you lying here, boy? You’re big enough to work. Lazy, I suppose?"
"Oh no, sir!" Dick replied. "I’m not lazy at all. I’d love to work, but I don’t know anyone here. I must have fallen ill from hunger."
"Ah, poor lad! Well, get up! Let’s see what’s wrong with you."
Dick tried to rise but collapsed again—he was so weak. He hadn’t eaten a crumb in three days and could no longer run through the streets begging from passersby. The merchant ordered Dick to be taken into the house, fed a hearty meal, and given light work in the kitchen.

Dick would have lived well in this hospitable household if it weren’t for the wicked cook. She constantly scolded him:
"Come on, move faster! Clean the spit and tighten its handle, wipe the baking pan, light the fire, wash all the dishes, and be quick about it, or else!"—and she would swing a ladle at Dick.
Moreover, she was so used to knocking things around that when she had nothing to do, she would beat poor Dick on the head and shoulders with a broomstick or whatever else was at hand.

After some time, Mr. Fitzwarren’s daughter Alice was told how the cook mistreated Dick. Alice threatened to dismiss the cook if she didn’t stop tormenting the boy.
After that, the cook treated Dick better, but then a new misfortune befell him. His bed was in the attic, and there were so many holes in the floor and walls that mice and rats tormented him at night.

One day, Dick cleaned a gentleman’s shoes, and the man gave him a whole penny for it. Dick decided to buy a cat with the money. The next day, he saw a girl with a cat and said to her,
"Sell me your cat! I’ll give you a whole penny for it."
"All right, take her, sir!" the girl replied. "Though my cat is worth more—she’s an excellent mouser!"
Dick hid the cat in the attic and never forgot to bring her the leftovers from his meals. It didn’t take long for the mice and rats to stop bothering him, so now he slept soundly at night.

Soon after, one of Mr. Fitzwarren’s trading ships began preparing for a long voyage. According to custom, the servants could try their luck in trade alongside their master by sending goods or money abroad to sell or purchase merchandise. One day, the master summoned all the servants to the parlor and asked what they wished to send.

Everyone had something to risk. Only poor Dick had neither money nor goods to sell—he had nothing to send, so he didn’t come to the parlor. Miss Alice guessed why Dick was absent and ordered him to be called.

“I’ll give the money for him,” she said. But her father objected:
“That won’t do! Everyone can only send something of their own.”
“I have nothing,” said poor Dick. “Except, perhaps, the cat… I recently bought her for a penny from a little girl.”
“Then bring the cat here!” ordered Mr. Fitzwarren. “You may send her.”

Dick went upstairs, fetched his poor cat, and with tears in his eyes, handed her over to the ship’s captain.
“Now,” he said, “the mice and rats won’t let me sleep at night.”

Everyone laughed at Dick’s unusual “merchandise,” but Miss Alice pitied him and gave him money to buy a new cat.

This stirred envy in the spiteful cook, especially since Miss Alice was generally very kind to poor Dick. The cook began mocking him even more, constantly taunting him about sending a cat overseas.
“Do you think,” she said, “your cat will fetch enough money to buy a stick to beat you with?”

Eventually, poor Dick couldn’t bear it anymore and decided to run away. He gathered his belongings and early on the morning of November 1st, All Saints’ Day, set off on his journey. He reached Holloway, sat down on a stone—a stone still called “Whittington’s Stone” to this day—and began pondering which road to take.

As he sat there, the bells of Bow Church—there were only six at the time—began to ring, and it seemed to Dick as if they were saying to him:
“Turn again, Whittington,
Lord Mayor of London!”
“Lord Mayor?” Dick wondered. “I’d endure anything to become Lord Mayor of London and ride in a grand carriage when I grow up! Well, perhaps I’ll return and pay no mind to the cook’s beatings and grumbling, since I’m destined to become Lord Mayor of London.”

Dick turned back and, fortunately, managed to return home and get to work before the old cook came down to the kitchen.

Now let us follow Miss Puss to the shores of Africa. The ship carrying the cat sailed for a long time. Finally, the wind blew it to a part of the African coast inhabited by Moors—a people unknown to the English. The Moors flocked to see the sailors, who differed from them in skin color, and once they became acquainted, they eagerly began buying all the wondrous goods the ship had brought.

The captain then sent samples of the finest goods to the king of that land, who was so pleased that he invited the sailors to his palace. According to custom, the guests were seated on expensive carpets embroidered with gold and silver flowers, while the king and queen sat on a raised platform at the end of the hall. But no sooner had the food been brought in than hordes of rats and mice burst into the room and devoured everything on the table in an instant. The captain was astonished and asked how they could tolerate such a thing.

“Oh, it’s a true calamity!” they replied. “Our king would give half his treasures to rid himself of these pests. Not only do they devour all the food, as you’ve seen, but they also attack him in his bedchamber and even climb into his bed. So he has to sleep under guard.”

The captain nearly jumped for joy—he remembered poor Whittington and his cat—and told the king that he had an animal on board that could quickly deal with the vermin. The king, too, leaped for joy so high that his turban fell off his head.
“Bring me this animal!” he cried. “These rodents are the scourge of my court, and if it can rid us of them, I will fill your ship with gold and jewels!”

The captain, knowing his business well, didn’t hesitate to extol Miss Puss’s virtues. He told His Majesty:
“We are reluctant to part with this animal. Without it, the mice and rats might destroy all the goods on our ship! But, so be it, I will bring it to serve Your Majesty!”
“Hurry, hurry!” cried the queen. “Oh, how I long to see this delightful creature!”

The captain went back to the ship, and in the meantime, a new meal was prepared for the guests. He tucked Miss Puss under his arm and arrived at the palace just in time: the table was once again swarming with rats. As soon as the cat saw them, she didn’t wait for an invitation—she sprang from the captain’s arms, and within minutes, nearly all the rats and mice lay dead at her feet; the rest fled in terror to their holes.

The king was overjoyed to be rid of the plague so easily, and the queen wished to admire the creature that had rendered them such a great service, asking for it to be brought to her.
“Puss, puss, puss!” called the captain.
The cat came to him. He handed her to the queen, but she recoiled—afraid to touch the creature that had so easily defeated the rats and mice. But when the captain stroked the cat and called “puss, puss” again, the queen also reached out and called:
“Pitty-pitty!”—for she hadn’t been taught the correct pronunciation.
The captain placed the cat on the queen's lap. The cat purred and began to play with her majesty's fingers, then purred again and fell asleep.
The king, witnessing the feats of Miss Kitty and learning that her kittens, if distributed throughout his domains, would rid the country of rats, struck a deal with the captain for all the goods on the ship. Moreover, he paid ten times more for the cat than for everything else combined.
Then the captain left the royal palace, sailed with a fair wind to England, and soon arrived safely in London.
One morning, just as Mr. Fitzwarren had come to his office and sat down at his desk to check the receipts and plan the day's tasks, someone knocked at the door: knock-knock-knock.
"Who's there?" asked Mr. Fitzwarren.
"Your friend," he heard in reply. "I bring you good news about your ship, the *Unicorn*."
Forgetting his gout, the merchant rushed to open the door. And whom did he see there? The captain and his agent with a chest full of jewels and a bill of lading! Mr. Fitzwarren looked over the bill, raised his eyes to heaven, and thanked the Almighty for such a successful voyage.
Then the arrivals told the merchant about the incident with the cat and showed him the rich gift that the king and queen had sent for the cat to poor Dick. After hearing them out, the merchant called his servants and said:
"Let us quickly inform Dick, so he may rejoice,
And henceforth we shall call him 'Mr. Whittington.'"
And here Mr. Fitzwarren showed his best side. When some of the servants hinted that Dick had no need for such wealth, he replied:
"God forbid that I should take even a penny from him! What belongs to him, he shall receive—every last farthing."
And he sent for Dick. At that time, Dick was cleaning pots for the cook and was all smeared with soot. Dick refused to go to the office, saying:
"The floors are swept, and my shoes are dirty and studded with thick nails."
But Mr. Fitzwarren insisted that Dick come and even ordered a chair to be brought for him, so Dick began to think that they were simply mocking him.
"Don't laugh at a poor lad!" he said. "Better let me return to the kitchen."
"But truly, Mr. Whittington," the merchant objected, "we are speaking seriously, and I am heartily glad for the news these gentlemen have brought you. The captain sold your cat to the Moorish king and has brought you more for it than all my possessions are worth. I wish you many years to enjoy your wealth!"
Then Mr. Fitzwarren asked the captain to open the chest of jewels and said:
"Now all that remains for Mr. Whittington is to store his treasures in a safe place."
Poor Dick was beside himself with joy. He begged his master to take a portion of his wealth, believing he owed everything to his kindness.
"No, no, not at all!" said Mr. Fitzwarren. "All of this is yours. And I have no doubt you will manage it splendidly."
Then Dick asked the mistress and then Miss Alice to accept a part of his fortune, but they too refused, assuring him they were genuinely happy for his good fortune. However, the poor lad simply couldn't keep all he had received. He presented rich gifts to the captain, his assistant, all the servants, and even the wicked old cook.
Mr. Fitzwarren advised Dick to send for a skilled tailor and dress as befits a gentleman, then offered the young man to stay in his house until a better apartment could be found.
Whittington washed, curled his hair, put on a hat and a fine suit, and became no less handsome and well-dressed than any of the young men who visited Mr. Fitzwarren. And Miss Alice, who had previously only pitied him and tried to help him, now found him a suitable suitor, especially since Whittington himself dreamed of nothing but pleasing her and constantly gave her the most wonderful gifts.
Mr. Fitzwarren soon noticed their mutual affection and proposed they marry, to which both eagerly agreed. A wedding date was set, and the bride and groom were accompanied to the church by the Lord Mayor, aldermen, sheriffs, and the wealthiest merchants of London. After the ceremony, all were invited to a lavish feast.
The story tells us that Mr. Whittington and his wife lived in wealth and luxury and were very happy. They had several children. Whittington was once elected Sheriff of London, three times Lord Mayor, and under Henry V, he was knighted.
After the victory over France, he hosted the king and queen with such splendor that His Majesty said:
"No sovereign has ever had such a subject!"
To which Sir Richard Whittington replied:
"No subject has ever had such a sovereign!"
Until 1780, one could see a statue of Sir Richard Whittington with a cat in his hand above the arch of Newgate Prison, which he himself had built for vagabonds and criminals.

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Whittington and His Cat

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