The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1874-09-26 00:00:00

THE LEGEND OF "DICK WHITTING-
TON AND HIS CAT."

In London, on Saturday evening, the Lord Mayor enter-
tained the members of the International Congress of Orient-
alists at dinner at the Mansion-house —. the guests num-
bering about 150. A novel kind of interest was given
to the banqueting-hall by the appearance of many of the
guests front Oriental countries in native or official costume ;
but this portion of the company, though the scene was to
many perfectly new, appealed quite at home at the table in
the Egyptian-hall. Among the guests were— His Royal
Highness Prince Charles of Roulnanlal, his Holiness the
Patriarch of Syria, the Syrian Bishop of Jerusalem, Professor
Leon de Ronny, Dr. Samuel Birch, President of the Congress,
Sir liartle Frere, General sir 11. Rawllnsnn, Professor and
Mrs. Max Muller, Sir Walter Eliott, Mr. Grant Duff, M.P.,
Professor Owen, Professor Lepsius, Mr. J. Winter Jones, Sir
J. P. Grant, General Marriott, his Excellency Brugsch Bey,
Baron Textor de Racist, Professor Andreas, Mr. E. Arnold,
Mr. J. F. Angier, Professor Brockhaus, Mr. Joseph Bonomi,
Colonel Tobin Bush, Professor Chwolson, Rev. R. Caldwell,
Mr. Moneure D. Conway, and many other distinguished
gentlemen.
In the course of the evening, the assemblage was addressed
by Professor Max Muller, who said—

I rise, as the representative of the Aryans, to return
thanks in the name of our section for the splendid, the
princely, the truly Oriental hospitality with which the
Lord Mayor has honoured us to-night. In the East,
as you know, hospitality is a sacred duty; it is so repre-
sented in the Veda and in the Laws of Mann. Every
stranger is to be hospitably received, and the traveller
who is turned away from a house disappointed is said
, to carry away with him all the merit that a house-
holder may have accumulated for himself by his good
works during many years. (" Hear, hear," and a
laugh.) In the West hospitality is no longer a sacred
duty, but it has become, particularly in England, a
national habit and virtue, a predominant element in
the English character; and if well-established habits
are better than the best intentions, then I say that
Western hospitality is better than the hospitality of the
East, whatever the sacred halo may be which surrounds
it there. And now let us look at the duties of hos-
pitality, as prescribed in the Laws of Menu. What has
the hoot to offer tohis guest? Four things, so far as I re-
member—a piece of ground to sit on, a bundle of hay to
Bleep on, water to wash his feet, and kindly speech.
(" Hear, hear," and a laugh.) Now, gentlemen. look
at the difference between the East and the West !
Though we have not had each our bundle of hay or
water to wash our feet, yet we have had our place to
sit on, we have had the kindly words of the Lord
Mayor, and we have had something else. (A laugh.)
When we decided to have this gathering of Oriental
scholars from all parts of the world in London in the
second week of September, I remember we were
politely told we were mad. (A laugh.) "Why," it
was.said, "everybody will be away partridge-mheoting
or sea bathing—London will be perfectly empty, and
there will be no one to receive our distinguished guests
as they ought to be received." I confess I was not
frightened by these prognostications. When London
is said to be empty, it still contains more inhabitants
than the whole kingdom of Saxony put together
(" Hear, hear," and a laugh) ; and I knew there would
be members of the Government, Presidents of our
Royal and Literary Societies, quite willing, quite de-
lightful to give up a week of shooting for a week of
friendly social intercourse with some of the most dis-
tinguished scholars of Europe. Nor have I been mis-
taken. Sir H. Rawlinson, Sir Bartle Frere, Mr. Grant
Duff, Dr. Hooker, Mr. I3osanquet, and others have
nobly sustained the honour of the Government, of the
Indian Council, and of our learned societies. (Cheers. )
Besides, I knew who was Lord Mayor, and I felt cer-
tain that he would not allow it to be said that while
on the continest every small (Sr big) burgomaster in-
variably entertains the members of our scientific con-
gresses, the greatest burgomaster in the world, whose
wealth, whose power, whose magnificence have in the
eyes of all foreigners assumed almost mythical propor-
tions (a laugh), had ignored our existence in the city of
London. Far be it from me to say that we had any right
to expect such princely hospitality from the Lord
Mayor; yet I think I shall be able to prove—if you
will bear with me for a little longer—that, after all,
we Oriental scholars, and particularly we Aryans,
have a certain claim on the Lord Mayor, and may look
on him as our own. Like all good things, like the
light of the sun and like the light of knowledge, the
Lord Mayor, too, comes from the East. (A laugh.)
Let me explain. The great ancestor of all Lord
Mayors—the founder, if I may to, of this glorious civic
dynasty, was—as we learnt as children, Dick Whit-
tington, with his cat (Laughter.) It is commonly
supposed that Dick Whittington was an ordinary
mortal • that he was ill-treated. by a cruel cook; that
the bell of London prophesied his future greatness;
that at last he made his fortune by a cat; and that
he died in the year 1423. I need not tell you that
all this is mythology, not solar mythology, I am sorry
to say, but certainly terrestrial mythology (a laugh),
and that, like all the ancestors of great families, Dick
Whittington was a mythic hero or demigod. Different
attempts have been made to explain the myth of Whit-
tiugton. Lord Bacon, who held that every myth con-
tained originally a moral lesson, supposed that the story
of Whittington was a le4son of political economy, teach-
ing us that the secret of all success in trade was to find
the right market; and secondly, that there is no fixed
standard of value for anything in the world, not even
for a cat (a laugh), and that everything is worth
neither more nor less than what it will fetch. Then
came the editor of the Munimenta Guildhallar
Londinensis, who adopted an etymological inter-
pretation of the Whittington myth. A cat, he said,
is only a Saxon corruption of the Normaz-French acat,
which as far back as the 12th century occurs in the sense
of what is bought, acceptatum achete. The story of
Whittington, therefore, only meant that he owed his
success to a cat, to what he bought and sold, and no
more. (A laugh.) Now, I call this a very tame inter-
pretation of a noble myth, and I am prepared to Drove
that the first of Lord Mayors was neither a mere
lesson of political economy personified nor the offshoot
of a mere misunderstanding, but that he was, in
sober truth, an Eastern hero. (Laughter.) The mortal
Whittington is believed to have died in 1423. But
there is &Persian historian of the name of Wateetf who
lived in the beginning of the 14th century; therefore,
several generations before Whittington. The first
part only of this great historian's work is published,
but in the second book, of which an MS. exists in the
Imperial Library at Vienna, there is the whole story
of Dick Whittington and his cat. The story runs as

'follows :—There was in Siraf a noble merchant prince I
of the name of Kaiser. When he died he left threesome, 1
' who very soon squandered the paternal fortune, and left 1
their poor old mother to starve alone with her cat.
Now, it is the habit in Eastern countries, when a trier- I
chant sails from a port, to ask poor people for a small I
present and their blessing, and to promise to bring them ,
back some present in return. The poor widow, when I
asked for a present, had nothing to give but her eat, 1
and that cat she gave to the sailor, though with a sad
i r heart. The sailor came to India and was invited to
dine th
etc thile y satiaguer le
saw a n., ha c stand" by th oz
.1, killin e m with h the w ra,.
The or fed his tki m
and the King bought the cat for afa Woos intim he
honest sailor, returning, handed over the money
to the poor xi.low, a*l she, good soul and kind
mother as she *as, gave .all the money to hereions.
They afterwards bought an island, formerly called.
. Kish, butr"Phich "Teffeefortlf; After Ber are'st
son, was gilled ais. Now here we have the
original story of our
.Eastern Whittingiou several
generations before his second birth in Britain ;
sand thurlf 1 thope,!! have redeemed my proSise.
~.\,and shown,ohyou tilt tit"; fiesta of • Lorit Alayors
~„ came from (he Eat & thatrha wan an: .4ryan and 14
' Aryan destent, and that his present successor in enter-
taining nembers of the Aryan section is only enter-
taining his ownkithand-kimilmagister.t-Butenough,
' and I fear too much of this. I know there aresceptics
, in the, world, perhaps inithis very room, who shake
, their beads,,and think that mythology, whether solar
, or terrestrial, Mall moonshine, possibly the result of
.. mere lunacy. (Laughter,) Be it so; but even thus I
. claim the Lord Mayor as an OrientaL Youknow that
, for the mabmificent splendour with which he has main-
tained the honour of his office, for the hospitality
; which he has shown, not only to Imperial and Royal
. guests, but also to the humble representatives of Li-
terature and Art, the Queen has raised him to the rank
; of a Baronet. He has thus become an ancestor himself.
; the founder of a new race of Lord Mayors; and he
may rest assured that after the truly Eastern banquet
' of to-night--a banquet which in the grateful remem-
brance of all here present will rank as the thousand
, and second Arabian Night --he will for ever be known
. ' among Oriental scholars as the hospitable, the magni-
ficent, the truly Oriental Lord Mayor of London.
; (Cheers.)