Chapter LI: Appendix: To the Book of Curiosities; Containing Curious Experiments, and (6)

"Some time in September, 1816, I accompanied Dr. Renwick, on a professional visit he paid to Miss M'Avoy, at her residence in St. Paul's-square, on the east side. She was then between sixteen and seventeen years of age, of a pleasing and ingenuous countenance, and apparently of an amiable and artless disposition. Her mother informed me, that in the preceding June, her daughter had been attacked with hydrocephalus, or water in the head, together with paralytic affection on one side, and a complication of other disorders, which I forbear to enumerate, because I am wholly ignorant of that part of the subject. According to her own statement, corroborated by that of her mother, the hydrocephalus preceded, and in their opinion produced, the blindness of gutta serena, under which she is supposed to labour, but which has been called in question, I understand, by some of the professional men who have visited her.

"Her mother, however, declared, that the light of the sun produced not the slightest sensible effect upon her eyes; and some of the professional gentlemen who happened to be present at one of my repeated visits, declared, that though some slight contraction of the pupil was perceptible upon the approach of a lighted candle to the eye, it was by no means such as uniformly occurs when the visual organs perform their regular functions.

"At my first interview, I learned from herself, what I had indeed previously been told by others, that she had recently acquired the faculty of distinguishing not only the colours of cloth and stained glass, but that she could actually decipher the forms of words in a printed book; and, indeed, could read, if the phrase may be permitted, with tolerable facility. To put these pretensions to the test, she permitted a shawl to be passed across the eyes in double folds, in such a way that all present were convinced they could not under similar circumstances discern day from night. In this state a book was placed before her, and opened indiscriminately; when, to our extreme surprise, she began to trace the words with her finger, and to repeat them correctly. She appeared to recognize a short monosyllable by the simple contact of one finger; but in ascertaining a long word, she placed the fore-finger of her left hand on the beginning, whilst with that of her right hand she proceeded from the other extremity of the word; and when the two fingers, by having traversed over all the letters, came in contact with each other, she invariably and precisely ascertained the word. By my watch I found that she read about thirty words in half a minute; and it very naturally occurred to us, that if, notwithstanding her supposed blindness, and the double bandage over her eyes, she could still see, she would have read much more rapidly, if her motive had been to excite our astonishment. And here it may not be amiss to state, that there does not appear to be any adequate motive for practising a delusion upon the public. Her situation in life is respectable; and her mother disavows any intention of ever exhibiting her daughter as a means of pecuniary remuneration. Fifteen months have now elapsed since the period at which she laid claim to the extraordinary faculty which has given rise to so much curiosity, astonishment, and perplexity; during which time the reputation of so wonderful a circumstance has subjected her to the fatigue and inconvenience of daily and almost hourly visits.

"According to her own statement, her powers of touch vary very materially with circumstances; when her hands are cold, she declares that the faculty is altogether lost; and that it is exhausted, also, by long and unremitting efforts; that she considers the hours of from ten till twelve, of each alternate day, the most favourable for her performance. Her pulse, during the experiments, has varied from 110 to 130 degrees.

"One circumstance, which has created much doubt and suspicion, must not be concealed; which is, that if any substance, for instance, a book or a shawl, be interposed between her eyes and the object she is investigating, she is much embarrassed, and frequently entirely baffled. She explains this by saying, that it is necessary there should be an uninterrupted communication between her finger and her breath. I leave it to others to draw their own conclusions upon this point; as my object is not to establish any theory, or give currency to any mystery, but to relate the simple facts. I am, therefore, compelled to express my conviction, that she can neither ascertain colours, nor the words of a book, in total darkness; and, as many persons very naturally will ask, why has not such a test been proposed? the reply must be, that as the young lady is not the subject of a public exhibition, and as an introduction to her is merely a matter of favour, it might not be very courteous or delicate, under such circumstances, to make any proposal which seemed to imply a suspicion that she was an impostor.

"There are persons, however, who, giving her implicit credit for the reality of the extraordinary powers to which she lays claim, will contend that it is altogether unfair to propose the test of total darkness. Proceeding upon their belief that she actually ascertains colour, &c. by the finger, or that the visual organ is transferred to the touch, still they say that light is essentially necessary to produce that effect upon the surface of the body felt, which enables her to distinguish one shade from another; they add, that as there is no such thing as colour in total darkness, it is perfectly ridiculous to expect that she should ascertain the various shades without the presence of that light which alone produces those shades. It is, according to their mode of considering the subject, as absurd as to expect an effect without a cause.

"It has already been stated, that, with the double bandage over her eyes, she read several lines of a book indiscriminately opened; as it was possible that the letters of a printed book might leave some slight impression sensible to an exquisite touch, I took from my pocket-book an engraved French assignat, which was hot-pressed, and smooth as glass; she read the smallest lines contained in this with the same facility as the printed book. A letter received by that day's post was produced, the direction and post-mark of which she immediately and correctly deciphered. She also named the colour of the separate parts of the dresses of the persons in company, as well as various shades of stained glass which were purposely brought.

"What I had seen at my first interview was so extremely astonishing, and so far surpassed any thing I had ever known or read of the powers ascribed to persons deprived of sight, that I could only account for it on the supposition that she was not blind, and that she had some secret mode of discerning an object, notwithstanding the bandage, through which I myself could not distinguish night from day, when it was applied to my own eyes. I therefore made the best apology I could for visiting her house again the same evening, having previously prepared myself with several tests, which I begged permission to submit to her examination, when the candle was withdrawn. Not the slightest objection was offered to my proposal, and the candle was extinguished: her mother stationed herself before the fire, which was extremely low, and afforded so little light that I could not have read one word of moderate-sized print, if it had been brought almost in contact with the bars of the grate. I then took from my pocket a small book, the type of which was very little larger than that of an ordinary newspaper; observing at the time, that I was afraid the print was too minute; to which she replied, that her fingers were in excellent order, and that she had no doubt she could be able to make it out.

"The candle, as was before observed, had been extinguished; and her mother and myself were so stationed, that had there been any light afforded by the fire, we must have completely intercepted it. Miss M'Avoy sat in the furthest part of the room, with her back towards the grate, in such a situation that I could barely discern even the leaves of the book which lay open before her; the title of which she proceeded to read with complete success, with the exception of one very minute word. I then presented to her a small piece of smooth writing paper, which was ruled with horizontal faint blue lines, with a pen and black ink; there were also perpendicular red lines, between which were scored black lines: all these, with their direction and order, she determined without any apparent difficulty. She also told correctly the colour of a variety of species of cloth, procured immediately before at a draper's shop. All the experiments hitherto described, as well as those which follow, were performed by Miss M. with the bandage before her eyes; and as the shawl, which was usually applied to this purpose, produced considerable warmth and inconvenience, a pair of what, in the optician's shops, are called goggles, had been provided, which so completely excluded the light, that no person who tried them could discern the difference between day and night, when they were fitted to the face. As these goggles have been generally used when Miss M. has exhibited her surprising talent, it is necessary that the reader should have a correct idea of them. They are intended to be worn by travellers, to guard the eyes against the wind or the dust, and consist of two glasses, sometimes green, fitted into a bandage of leather, which is passed horizontally across the face, and is tied with ribands round the back of the head. The goggles provided for Miss M. instead of glasses, were fitted up with opake pasteboard, lined with paper, and not an aperture was left through which a single ray of light could penetrate.

"Mr. Nichol, a scientific gentleman, who was delivering a course of philosophical lectures in Liverpool, having heard of this extraordinary property, applied to me to obtain an introduction to Miss M'Avoy, and I accompanied him to her house, along with Mr. James Smith, printer, of Liverpool. At this interview, the experiments I have already detailed were repeated with complete success, whilst the goggles were applied. One part of the performance was so truly astonishing, that I should almost hesitate to relate it, if those two gentlemen had not been present to vouch for the truth. I had furnished myself with a set of stained landscape glasses, usually termed Claude Lorrain glasses. They were seven in number, contained in a frame. She ascertained the precise shade of each correctly; one glass, however, appeared to embarrass her, and after considerable scrutiny, she said it was not black, nor dark blue, nor dark brown, but she thought it was a very deep crimson. We did not know whether her conjecture was correct or not, as we could not ourselves ascertain the shade. By reflected light it appeared to us to be perfectly black; nor was the flame of the fire, which was stirred for the occasion, visible through it in the faintest degree. We had abandoned all expectation of determining this point, when the sun suddenly emerged from behind the clouds; and by that test, and that alone, were we enabled to discover that she was correct, as we could just discern the solar image of a very deep crimson. It has been said, and with some plausibility, that this must have been a bold guess on her part; if not, it will puzzle our physiologists to explain how a person reputed to be blind, with an opake bandage also over her eyes, could declare the colour of a glass, which persons in full enjoyment of their eyesight, and without any such obstacles, could not discern by any other light than that of the meridian sun! At this meeting, we were informed that Miss M'Avoy had recently found out that this extraordinary faculty was not confined to her fingers; and that she could also distinguish the colour of an object which was brought into contact with the back of her hands. This was immediately made the subject of experiment by Mr. Nichol, who successively applied several objects which he had with him to that part of the hand; in placing which he used so much precaution, that I could not see them myself, although my eyes were fixed upon his hands. She was completely successful also upon this occasion."

The paragraph which follows is from the Liverpool Advertiser:--

"As the extraordinary powers attributed to Miss Margaret M'Avoy, of this town, have lately attracted the attention of the public in an uncommon degree, permit me to send you a fact, which has lately occurred, and which must silence the scepticism of the most incredulous:--Two ladies of this town, whose habits of rigid veracity and cautious inquiry are well known, and whose names are left with the publishers, in order to satisfy any doubts which may arise, went to the house of this phenomenon, impelled by that curiosity which has now become general. Fortunately, Miss M'Avoy's marvellous powers, which are known to be sometimes fluctuating and capricious, were that day in the highest perfection, and the following experiment was actually tried:--One of these visitors stood behind the young lady's chair, and pressed down her eyelids with both hands so closely, that it was a physical impossibility for a single ray of light to enter. I may here remark, that no method of closing the eyes, by any sort of covering that can be devised, is half so effectual as this, for obvious reasons. The other lady then took up a printed book of sermons, which was lying in the apartment, and which appeared to have just come from the bookseller's, as the leaves were not yet cut open; she opened it in a place where the leaves were united, and placed it before Miss M'Avoy, (her eyes still closed as above described,) who read several lines in it, without hesitation. The lady then took a written note out of her pocket, which had been received that morning, and Miss M. also read that, without any other difficulty than what arose from the badness of the hand-writing. This experiment, which can be ascertained on oath, seems so decisive as to the power possessed by Miss M. of reading by the touch alone, that I am not aware of any possible way in which it can be controverted."

At the time when the case of this young lady came before the public, her claims to extraordinary powers were examined with the utmost scrutiny, both by those who admitted, and those who doubted her abilities. In every experiment that was made, the former were confirmed in their opinion; and the latter, while they withheld their assent, were constrained to acknowledge themselves overwhelmed with an accumulation of facts, for which they were unable to account.

AN OLD ENGLISH 'SQUIRE.--The following character of the Honourable William Hastings, of the Woodlands, in Hampshire, was copied in the year 1737, from a manuscript of Anthony Ashley Cooper, the first earl of Shaftsbury, by W. Cowper, Esq. then clerk of parliament.

In the year 1638, lived Mr. Hastings, by his quality, son, brother, and uncle, to the earls of Huntingdon. He was, peradventure, an original in our age, or rather the copy of our ancient nobility in hunting, not in warlike times.

He was low, very strong, and very active; of a reddish flaxen hair. His clothes always of green cloth, and never all worth, when new, five pounds.

His house was perfectly of the old fashion: in the midst of a large park well stocked with deer, and near the house, rabbits to serve his kitchen; many fishponds; great store of wood and timber; a bowling-green in it, long, but narrow, full of high ridges, it being never levelled since it was ploughed; they used round sand-bowls; and it had a large banqueting-house like a stand, built in a tree.

He kept all manner of sport hounds, that ran buck, fox, hare, otter, and badger; and hawks, long and short winged He had all sorts of nets for fish. He had a walk in the New Forest and the manor of Christ Church; this last supplied him with red deer, sea and river fish; and indeed all his neighbours' lands and royalties were free to him, who bestowed all his time on these sports, but what he borrowed to caress his neighbours' wives and daughters. This made him very popular, always speaking kindly to the husband, brother, or father, who was, besides, always welcome to his house. There he would find beef, pudding, and small beer in great plenty; a house not so neatly kept as to shame him, or his dusty shoes; the great hall strewed with marrow-bones, and full of hawks' perches, hounds, spaniels, and terriers; the upper side of the hall hung with the fox-skins of this and the last year's killing, with here and there a pole-cat intermixed; and gamekeepers' and hunters' poles in great abundance.

The parlour was a large long room, curiously furnished:--on a great hearth paved with bricks lay some terriers, and the choicest hounds and spaniels; usually two of the great chairs had litters of young cats in them, which were not to be disturbed, he having always three or four attending him at dinner, and a little round white stick of fourteen inches long lying by his trencher, that he might defend such meat as he had no mind to part with to them. The windows, which were very large, served for places to lay his arrows, cross-bows, stone-bows, and other such like accoutrements: the corners of the room were full of the best-chosen hunting and hawking poles. An oyster table stood at the lower end, of constant use twice a day, all the year round, for he never failed to eat oysters before dinner and supper through all seasons; with these the neighbouring town of Poole supplied him.

The upper part of the room had two small tables and a desk, on the one side of which was a Church Bible, and on the other the Book of Martyrs. On the tables were hawks' hoops, bells, and such like, two or three old green hats, with their crowns thrust in so as to hold ten or a dozen eggs; which were of a pheasant kind of poultry he took much care of and fed himself. Tables, dice, cards, and boxes, were not wanting. In the holes of the desk were store of tobacco-pipes that had been used.

On one side of this end of the room was a door of the closet, wherein stood the strong beer and the wine, which never came thence but in single glasses, that being the rule of the house exactly observed, for he never exceeded in drink, or permitted others to transgress.

On the other side was a door into an old chapel, not used for devotion; the pulpit, as the safest place, was never wanting of a cold chine of beef, venison pasty, gammon of bacon, or great apple pie, with thick crust extremely baked.

His table cost him not much, though it was well provided. His sports supplied all but beef and mutton, except Fridays, when he had the best salt fish, as well as other fish, he could get. This was the day his neighbours of first quality most visited him. He never wanted a London pudding, and always sung it in with "My pert eyes therein a." He drank a glass or two of wine at meals; very often syrup of gillyflowers in his sack; and had always a tun glass, without feet, standing by him, holding a pint of small beer, which he often stirred with rosemary.

He was good-natured, but soon angry, calling his servants bastards, and cuckoldy knaves; in one of which he often spoke truth to his own knowledge, and sometimes in both, though of the same man. He lived to be an hundred, never lost his eyesight, but always wrote and read without spectacles, and got on horseback without help. Until past fourscore, he rode to the death of a stag as well as any one.

JOAN OF ARC, commonly called the Maid of Orleans.--This celebrated heroine was the daughter of a peasant of Domremi, near Vaucouleurs, on the borders of Lorrain, and born about the beginning of the fifteenth century. At the age of twenty-seven years, she was servant in a small inn, where she was accustomed to tend horses, and to perform other menial offices which commonly fall to the share of men-servants. About this time, king Charles VII. was reduced to the most distressed condition by the English; but the siege of Orleans, which was bravely defended by the garrison and inhabitants, in some measure retarded their progress. Joan partook of the feelings of sympathy with the besieged, that very generally prevailed, and determined to make some effort for relieving her sovereign in his present distresses. Whilst she was indulging these feelings, her enthusiasm led her to fancy that she saw visions and heard voices exhorting her to re-establish the throne of France, and to expel the foreign invaders. Under the strong impulse of passion and imagined inspiration, she obtained admission to Baudricourt, the governor of Vaucouleurs, who after being informed of her inspiration and intentions, treated her for some time with neglect; but, in consequence of her renewed and importunate solicitations, he gave orders that she should be conducted to the French court, which then resided at Chinon. It is pretended that Joan, immediately on her admission, knew the king, though she had never seen his face before, and though he purposely kept himself in the crowd of courtiers, and laid aside every thing in his apparel that might seem to distinguish him; and that she offered, in the name of the supreme Creator, to raise the siege of Orleans, and to conduct him to Rheims, to be there crowned and anointed. In order to remove his doubts of her mission, it is said, that she disclosed a secret, known only to himself, and which she must have derived from heavenly inspiration. She also demanded, as the instrument of her future victories, a particular sword which was kept in the church of St. Catharine of Fierbois, and which, though she had never seen it, she described by all its marks, and by the place in which it had long lain neglected. Her intrepid and determined mode of address excited attention, and gained confidence; and she was referred to matrons for proofs of her virginity, and to doctors of the church for evidence of her inspiration: their report being favourable, she was sent to the parliament at Poictiers; but they, considering her as insane, demanded from her a miracle. Her reply was, that she would soon exhibit one at Orleans.

Accordingly, she was at length completely armed, mounted on horseback in the presence of the multitude, and sent, amidst the loudest acclamations, to join the army destined to the relief of Orleans. Upon joining the army, consisting of 10,000 men, she ordered all the soldiers to confess themselves before they set out on the enterprise; she banished from the camp all women of bad fame; she displayed in her hands a consecrated banner, representing the Supreme Being as grasping the globe of earth, and surrounded with flower-de-luces; and after thus communicating to the soldiers a great degree of that enthusiasm by which she herself was actuated, she advanced towards Orleans. The English besiegers were overawed by her orders and menaces, dictated in the name of the Almighty Creator; and she entered Orleans arrayed in her military garb, and displaying her consecrated standard, and was received by all the inhabitants as a celestial deliverer. The convoy approached without finding any resistance on the part of the besiegers; the waggons and troops passed without interruption between the redoubts of the English; and a dead silence and astonishment reigned among those troops, formerly so elated with victory, and so fierce for the combat.

Joan, having thus far succeeded, ordered the garrison, at the same time encouraging them with the promise of heavenly assistance, first, to attack the English redoubts, in which measure they were successful; and then to fall upon the main body of the English in their entrenchments. In one of these latter attacks the French were repulsed, but the intrepid maid led them back to the charge, and overpowered the English. In one of these attacks, she was wounded in the neck with an arrow; but retreating behind the assailants, she pulled it out with her own hands, had the wound quickly dressed, and hastened back to head the troops, and to plant her victorious banner on the ramparts of the enemy. In consequence of these successes, attended with a loss to the English of more than 6000 men, their courage and confidence gave way to amazement and despair. The French, in order to magnify the wonder of all these prosperous events, represent the maid as not only active in combat, but as performing the office of general; directing the troops, conducting the military operations, and swaying the deliberations in all the councils of war. But whatever the policy of the French court might suggest for maintaining this opinion among the multitude, it is much more probable, that this inexperienced country girl was prompted in all her measures by the wiser commanders.

Having raised the siege of Orleans, Joan now insisted that she should proceed to the accomplishment of the second part of her promise, which was that of crowning the king at Rheims. The king, accompanied by the victorious maid, marched at the head of 12,000 men towards Rheims, receiving the submission of the towns through which he passed; till at length arriving near Rheims, a deputation met him with the keys of the city, and he was admitted into it with transport. Here the ceremony of his coronation was performed with the holy oil of Clovis; and the maid stood by his side in complete armour, and displayed her sacred banner. When the ceremony was finished, she threw herself at the king's feet, embraced his knees, and with a flood of tears she congratulated him on this singular and marvellous event. Charles testified his gratitude by ennobling the family of Joan, giving it the name of _du Lys_, probably in allusion to the lilies of her banner, and assigning to her a suitable estate in land. Having accomplished both the objects which she had proposed, the maid of Orleans expressed her wish to return to her former condition, and to the occupation and course of life which became her sex: but the French general Dunois, urged her continuance with the army, till the English should be completely expelled, and her predictions fully accomplished.

Overpowered by his advice, she threw herself into the town of Compeigne, which was then besieged by the duke of Burgundy and the English; where, on a sally, having twice driven the enemy from their entrenchments, and finding their number increasing, she ordered a retreat; but was deserted by her friends, surrounded by the enemy, and taken prisoner by the Burgundians. Instead of treating Joan as a prisoner of war, with the courtesy and good usage, to which, as such, she was entitled, and which civilized nations practise towards enemies on occasions of this kind, she was purchased from the captors by the regent duke of Bedford, and a criminal prosecution was instituted against her on the charges of sorcery, impiety, idolatry, and magic. The clergy in his interest, and even the university of Paris, concurred in the accusation. An ecclesiastical commission was held at Rouen for her trial, and the maid, clothed in her former military apparel, but loaded with irons, was produced before this tribunal. Her trial lasted four months; and in the course of that time, many captious interrogatories were put to her, which she answered with firmness and dignity.

Upon being asked, whether she would submit to the church the truth of her pretended visions, revelations, and intercourse with departed saints? she replied, that she would submit them to God, the fountain of truth: and when she was charged with being a heretic, and denying the authority of the church, she appealed to the pope; but her appeal was rejected. When she was asked, why she put her trust in her standard, which had been consecrated by magical incantations? she answered, that she put her trust in the Supreme Being alone, whose image was impressed upon it. When it was demanded, why she carried in her hand that standard at the unction and coronation of Charles at Rheims? she replied, that the person who had shared the danger was entitled to share the glory. When she was accused of going to war, she scrupled not to declare, that her sole purpose was to defeat the English, and to expel them the kingdom. In the issue, however, she was condemned for all the crimes of which she had been accused, aggravated by heresy; her revelations were declared to be inventions of the devil to delude the people; and she was sentenced to be delivered over to the secular arm. At length her resolution failed her; and through dread of the punishment to which she was sentenced, she declared that she was willing to recant; and, accordingly, she acknowledged the illusion of those revelations which the church had rejected; and she promised never more to maintain them. Upon this, her sentence was mitigated; and she was condemned to perpetual imprisonment, and to be fed during life on bread and water. But with this vengeance her enemies were not satisfied. In order to justify the severest measures against her, they insidiously placed in her apartment a suit of men's apparel; upon the sight of this garb, in which she had acquired so much renown, and assumed, as she once believed, by the appointment of heaven, her former ideas and passions revived, and she ventured in her solitude to put on the forbidden dress. In this apparel she was detected; it was regarded as a relapse into heresy; her recantation became void; her partial pardon was revoked; and she was to be burned in the market-place of Rouen. In June, 1431, this barbarous sentence, much more ignominious to those who inflicted it than to her who was the object of it, was executed.

"This admirable heroine, to whom the more generous superstition of the ancients would have erected altars, was, on pretence of heresy and magic, delivered over alive to the flames, and expiated, by that dreadful punishment, the signal services which she had rendered to her prince and to her native country." She met her fate with resolution, and the English themselves beheld the scene with tears. The king made no effort for avenging her cause; he merely procured a revision of the process, and a restoration of her memory ten years afterwards by the pope, in an act which styled her a "Martyr to her religion, her country, and her king." Her countrymen, more prompt in the tribute of their respect, propagated many tales relating to her execution; and some of them would not even allow her to be dead, but professed to expect her speedy return to conduct them again to victory.

Of the character and conduct of this singular heroine, the most probable opinion is, that of her being an honest and deluded enthusiast, of whose fancies and passions the principal persons in the interest of Charles availed themselves for deluding and rousing into exertion the passions of the people, at a crisis of peculiar importance; in which the maid of Orleans was instrumental in giving a decisive turn to the contest between the French and English. The exploits of Joan of Arc have been celebrated both in prose and verse. Of the latter, the serious poem of Chapelain has been much less successful than the burlesque and licentious one of Voltaire; but the injury done by it to her memory has been in some degree repaired in England, by Southey's sublime and spirited poem of "Joan of Arc," which exhibits her in the brightest colours of virtue and heroism.

POPE JOAN.--Among the numerous individuals who have figured on the great theatre of public life, few characters have ever been more distinguished than this celebrated lady, who, by a singular compound of dexterity, secrecy, and address, contrived to reach the pontificate. Many doubts have, indeed, been entertained of the authenticity of the tale; but it is well known, that prior to the Reformation it was sanctioned by universal belief.

It is said, that about the middle of the ninth century, a woman named Joan, born at Mentz, and who had received an excellent education, conceiving a violent passion for a young monk named Fulda, resolved to desert her family and friends, to assume the male habit, and gain admittance into the monastery. The plan succeeded; and having long indulged in their amours undisturbed and unsuspected, they eloped together, and travelled into most of the countries of Europe, availing themselves of every opportunity for increasing their knowledge, by engaging the assistance of the best masters in the different cities through which they passed. On the death of her lover, Joan repaired to Rome, still in the dress of a man; where her address and engaging manners raising her into notice, she commenced the duties of professor, and persons of the highest rank and most considerable talents enlisted in the number of her disciples. At length, on the death of pope Leo X. in 855, she was unanimously elected his successor to the pontifical throne. So prudently did she conduct herself, and with so much ability did she perform the duties of her station, that the people had reason to congratulate themselves on their choice. At length she confided her secret to a domestic whom she took to her bed, the consequence of which was her pregnancy, and she was taken in labour at one of the most solemn processions, delivered of a child in the street, and died on the spot. It is likewise said, that to perpetuate the memory of such an extraordinary adventure, a statue was erected on the place where it happened; that in abhorrence of the crime, the pope and clergy, in their subsequent annual processions from the Vatican to the Lateran, have turned off from that street; and that, to prevent a similar imposition, a custom was introduced of examining each pope previously to his consecration, in order to ascertain his sex. Such are the particulars of a story that seems not to have been called in question till the time of Luther, but which the best informed historians usually abandon as fictitious. "Till the Reformation, (says Gibbon,) the tale was repeated and believed without offence, and Joan's female statue long occupied her place among the popes in the cathedral of Sienna. She has been annihilated by two learned Protestants, Blondel and Bayle, but their brethren were scandalized by this equitable and generous criticism. Spanheim and L'Enfant attempted to save this poor engine of controversy; and even Mosheim condescends to cherish some doubt and suspicion."

History of the memorable SIR RICHARD WHITTINGTON, three times Lord Mayor of London; in the years 1397, 1406. 1419.--

The obscurity of the origin of this remarkable character, has given occasion to many fabulous accounts, but our readers may rely upon the following being the result of careful research, from the best authorities. Whittington came to London, from Shropshire, about the year 1368, in the reign of king Edward III. and in his way he chiefly lived upon the charity of well-disposed persons. On his arrival in town, he made an application to the prior of the hospital of St. John's, Clerkenwell, where he was kindly relieved; and being handy and willing, was soon put into an inferior post in the house. How long he remained here, is, I believe, no where mentioned; but to the piety of this charitable foundation he was certainly indebted for his first support in London. His next reception was in the family of Mr. Fitzwarren, a rich merchant, whose house was in the Minories, near the Tower. Here he undoubtedly acted as under scullion, for his keep only.

In this situation he met with many crosses and difficulties; for the servants made sport of him; and particularly the ill-natured cook, who was of a morose temper, used him very ill, and not unfrequently, with a sturdy arm, laid the ladle across his shoulders: so that, to keep in the family, he had many a sore bout to put up with; but his patience carried it off, and at last he became accustomed to her choleric disposition.

This was not the only misfortune he laboured under; for lying in a place for a long time unfrequented, such abundance of rats and mice had bred there, that they were almost ready at times to dispute the possession of the place with him, and full as troublesome by night as the cook was by day, so that he knew not what to think of his condition, or how to mend it. After many disquieting thoughts, he at last comforted himself with the hopes that the cook might soon marry, or die, or quit her service; and as for the rats and mice, a cat would be an effectual remedy against them.

Soon after, a merchant came to dinner, and it raining exceedingly, he staid all night; whose shoes Whittington having cleaned, and presented at his chamber door, he gave him a penny. This stock he improved, for going along the street of an errand, he saw a woman with a cat under her arm, and desired to know the price of it: the woman praised it for a good mouser, and told him, sixpence; but he declaring that a penny was all his stock, she let him have it.

He took the cat home, and kept her in a box all day, lest the cook should kill her if she came into the kitchen, and at night he set her to work for her living. Puss delivered him from one plague; but the other remained, though not for many years.

It was the custom with the worthy merchant, Mr. Hugh Fitzwarren, that God might give him a greater blessing for his endeavours, to call all his servants together when he sent out a ship, and cause every one to venture something in it, to try their fortunes.

Now all but Whittington appeared, and brought things according to their abilities; but his young mistress being by, and supposing that poverty made him decline coming, she ordered him to be called, on which he made several excuses: however, being constrained to come, he hoped they would not jeer a poor simpleton for being in expectation of turning merchant, since all that he could lay claim to as his own, was but a poor cat, which he had bought for one penny, which he had given to him for cleaning shoes, and had much befriended him in keeping the rats and mice from him. Upon this, the young lady proffered to lay something down for him, but her father told her the custom; it must be his own which must be ventured; and then ordered him to bring his cat, which he did, but with great reluctance, fancying nothing would come of it; and with tears delivered it to the master of the ship, which was called the Unicorn, and had fallen down to Blackwall, in order to proceed on her voyage.

On their arrival in the Mole of Algiers, they heard that the plague was raging in the country, having been but a few years before brought from China, viz. in 1346, at which period it was first noticed to rage in Africa, from whence it soon proceeded to Europe, overspreading the northern countries. This news did not deter the captain from sending to trade on shore, where, at first, they found but little encouragement, the people of the country appearing very shy to every offer. The news of the arrival of a vessel soon reached the notice of the Dey, who immediately ordered the captain and officers to wait upon his highness with presents; for then, as well as now, nothing could be done without first bribing him. After this ceremony was over, trade went on pretty briskly, at the conclusion of which, his Moorish majesty gave a grand entertainment, which, according to custom, was served upon carpets, interwoven with gold, silver, and purple silk. This feast was no sooner served up with the various dishes, but the scent brought together a number of rats and mice, who unmercifully fell on all that came in their way.

These audacious and destructive vermin did not shew any symptoms of fear upon the approach of the company, but, on the contrary, kept to it as if they only were invited. This made the captain and his people very much wonder; who, interrogating the Algerines, were informed, a very great price would be given by his highness, the Dey, for a cure, and a riddance of these vermin, which were grown so numerously offensive, that not only his table, but his private apartments, and bed, were so infested, that he was forced to be constantly watched for fear of being devoured.

This information put the English company immediately in mind of poor Dick Whittington's cat, which had done them such notable service on the passage; and wishing to serve the youth, they thought this the best time to come forward with the industrious animal. Accordingly, she was brought on shore the next day, when her presence suddenly kept off most of the vermin; a few only of the boldest daring to venture forward, all of whom she dispatched with wonderful celerity. This pleased his Algerine highness so much, that he immediately made very advantageous proposals to the factor of the ship for the possession of this surprising and useful animal. At first our people seemed very reluctant to part with it; but his liberality soon overcame every objection; and her purchase amounted, in various commodities, to several thousands of pounds. During the time the English remained here, her industry in destroying those noxious vermin so completely pleased the Moorish chief, that, at our people's departure, he again loaded them with rich presents.

The cook, who little thought how advantageous Whittington's cat would prove, had kept up such a continual alarm of noise and reproach at the poor youth's unfortunate penury, that he grew weary of enduring it, and not the least expecting what followed, he resolved rather to try his fortune again in the wide world, than lead any longer such a disagreeable life. For this step he might be blamed, as, had he complained to his master, who was a kind gentleman, the difference would have been set to rights, and he, not like a Jonas, cast out. With this resolution, however, he set out early on Allhallows morning, resolving to go into the country, and get into a more agreeable service.

As he went over Finsbury Moor, since called Moor-fields, his mind began to fail; he hesitated, and halted several times: he grew pensive, and his resolution left him. In this solitary manner he wandered on until he reached Holloway, where he sat down upon a large stone, which remains there to be seen to this day. Here he began to ruminate in earnest upon his ill-luck in not pleasing the cook; and in the depth of his meditation, he suddenly heard Bow bells strike out for a peal. This changed his attention; for, as he listened, on a sudden, he fancied they called him back again to his master. The more he hearkened, the more he became confirmed in this notion of his recall, conceiting the bells expressed the following distich:--

"RETURN AGAIN, WHITTINGTON,
THRICE LORD MAYOR OF LONDON."

This proved a happy thought for him; and it made so great an impression on his fancy, that, finding it early, and thinking he might yet get back before the family were stirring, he instantly turned upon his heel, and reaching home in less time than he went out, he got in unperceived to his usual daily drudgery.

Things were in this situation when the news arrived of the success of the voyage; and that night he was installed with the appellation of Mr. by his master, who informed him, that his ship had just arrived at Blackwall, being the richest vessel of her burden that had ever floated into an English port. His master concluded his discourse with a pious admonition to all his servants, after which they all joined in a thanksgiving to the Almighty for such a prosperous voyage.

The cook was among the first to change her demeanor towards Whittington, calling him Sir, and inviting him to such and such relishes as the kitchen afforded.

When the bill of lading was presented to the merchant, the principal part was found to belong to Mr. Whittington, amongst which was a cabinet of rich jewels, the last present of the Dey. This was the first thing brought to Mr. Fitzwarren's house, it being deemed too valuable to remain on board.

When the servants' goods for their ventures were all brought up to be divided, Mr. Whittington's was too bulky to be unpacked before them; but the pearls and jewels alone were estimated at several thousand pounds.

The humility of Mr. Whittington's mind arising from a strong sense of his duty to society in general, prevented his temper from exhilarating into arrogance, petulance, or superciliousness: though suddenly grown rich, and become equal to the first merchants in the city, pride had no share in the change of his circumstances. On the contrary, at first, he could hardly be prevailed upon to let the scullery alone; but Mr. Fitzwarren took much pains with him, and introduced him to the first characters in town, not omitting the court, as well as the clergy and military, who at that time were reckoned the most agreeable connections.

King Edward the Third being then at war with the French, and preparing for the siege of Rochelle, solicited all the privileged orders in the kingdom for a subsidy to carry on his expedition. The loyalty of the city of London induced them to offer a large gift in their corporate capacity. In this scheme Mr. Whittington joined, and paid in £10,000, an astonishing sum in those days from an individual; but the military ardour of the country has always been remarkable; hence it is not wonderful that an enterprising and fortunate young man should come forward with so large a sum, when it is considered that history has almost left us in the dark as to the remuneration expected. Be this as it may, history places it in the 46th year of the king's reign, A. D. 1372.

What contributed much at this time in favour of Whittington, was the absence of the Lombard merchants, who withdrew themselves from London, on account of the oppression of the king, which became excessive towards the latter end of his reign, for continual draughts to support his ambition in France. These, and the Jews abroad, conducted at that time the whole financial commerce of the city of London; but Mr. Whittington, upon their departure, came in for a considerable share of it.

We are now regularly come to the last year of king Edward's reign, the fifty-second, when the Lords and Commons granted the king a poll-tax, at four-pence a head, for every man and woman passing the age of fourteen years, beggars excepted. The clergy at the same time granted twelve-pence for every person beneficed; and of all other religious persons, four-pence by the poll, the four orders of Friars Mendicants only excepted. Here it is worth observing, that the king demanding of the city of London to advance him £4000, upon this poll, and the Mayor, Adam Staple, proving backward in performing the same, he was by the king turned out of that office, and Sir Richard Whittington put into his place, to finish the year; and this is the first mention of his being knighted, and of his great importance in the city at that time, being only about ten years after his arrival there, in circumstances so widely different.

According to Stow, Sir Richard Whittington was a great dealer in wool, leather, cloth, and pearls, which were universally worn at that time by the ladies. In 1377, the first year of king Richard II. he was called by summons to the parliament that met at London, which commenced at Michaelmas, and lasted till the feast of St. Andrew, when it was dissolved by the mutinous conduct of the Londoners, and adjourned to Northampton the following year, where was passed the noted poll-tax, the collecting of which occasioned and created the rebellion of Wat Tyler and Jack Straw.

In 1395, the eighteenth of this king's reign, Edmund, duke of York, the king's uncle, held a parliament at London, the king being absent in Ireland; and relating to the citizens the great streights the king was reduced to in Ireland, they granted him a tenth upon their personal estates; first protesting that they were not in rigour of right obliged to it, but that they did it out of affection. The mission to this parliament, we are particularly informed by Sir Robert Cotton, from Leland's papers, was managed by the uprightness and good judgment of Sir Richard Whittington.

Thus he grew in riches and fame the most considerable of the citizens, greatly beloved by all, especially the poor, several hundreds of whom he publicly or secretly assisted or supplied.

About this time it was that he married his master's daughter, Miss Fitzwarren; and at their wedding were present, among other noble characters, the Lord Mayor, Aldermen &c. &c.

According to the pretorian banner, once existing in Guildhall, but since destroyed by the fire which consumed the city archives, Whittington served his first mayoralty in 1397. He was now near forty years of age, of a goodly form, and chosen into the office by his fellow citizens, whose approbation of his conduct, after his having once before filled the office, when king Edward put him in, is a sound and substantial proof that he was a good, loyal, and patriotic man.

Sir Richard's second mayoralty occurred in 1406, in the reign of Henry IV. His third and last service of mayor happened in 1419, in Henry the Fifth's time, in which situation he behaved with his usual prudence. Though age had now taken off much of his activity, yet he was the most vigilant magistrate of his time. Soon after Henry's conquest of France, Sir Richard entertained him and his queen at Guildhall, in such grand style, that he was pleased to say, "Never prince had such a subject;" and conferred upon some of the aldermen the honour of knighthood.

At this entertainment, the king particularly praised the fire, which was made of choice wood, mixed with mace, cloves, and all other spices; on which Sir Richard said, he would endeavour to make one still more agreeable to his majesty, and immediately tore, and threw into the fire, the king's bond for 10,000 marks, due to the company of Mercers; 12,500 to the Chamber of London; 21,000 to the Mercers, Staplers, Goldsmiths, Haberdashers, Vintners, Brewers, and Bakers; 3,000 marks each. "All these, (said Sir Richard,) with divers others sent for the payment of your soldiers in France, I have taken in and discharged, to the amount of £60,000 sterling. Can your majesty desire to see such another sight?" The king and nobles were struck dumb with surprise at his wealth and liberality.

Sir Richard spent the remainder of his days in honourable retirement at home, in his house in Grub-street, beloved by the rich and the poor. By his wife he left two sons, some of whose posterity are still worthy citizens. He built many charitable houses, founded a church in Vintry ward, and dedicated it to St. Michael. Here he built a handsome vault, for the sepulchre of his father and mother-in-law, and the remainder of the Fitzwarren family, and where himself and wife lay afterwards.

This Richard Whittington was (in this church) three times buried; first by his executors, under a fair monument; then in the reign of Edward VI. the parson of that church, thinking some great riches (as he said) to be buried with him, caused his monument to be broken, his body to be spoiled of his leaden sheet, and again the second time to be buried; and in the reign of queen Mary, the parishioners were forced to take him up to wrap him in lead, as afore, to bury him a third time, and to place his monument, or the like, over him again; which remained, and so he rested, till the great fire of London violated his resting-place again.