e of London,
of old time called Newgate," &c.[5]
"The 1st year of Henry VI. John Coventrie and John Carpenter,
executors to Richard Whitington, gave towards the paving of this
great hall twenty pounds, and the next year fifteen pounds more, to
the said pavement, with hard stone of Purbeck; they also glazed
some windows thereof, and of the mayor's court; on every which
windows the arms of Richard Whitington are placed."[6]
Respecting the library at Guildhall, Stow, after relating how the Duke
of Somerset, Lord Protector, borrowed the books and never returned them,
writes:--"This library was built by the executors of Richard Whittington
and by William Burie; the arms of Whittington are placed on the one side
in the stone work, and two letters, to wit W and B, for William Burie,
on the other side; it is now lofted through, and made a storehouse for
clothes."[7]
Whittington appears to have died childless, and in the interesting
picture of his deathbed, copied by Mr. Lysons from an illumination in
the ordinances of his college, his executors are seen around his bed.
His will was proved in 1423 by John Coventry, John White, William Grove
and John Carpenter. The College of St. Spirit and St. Mary consisted of
a master, four fellows (masters of arts), clerks, conducts, chorists,
&c. It was dissolved by Edward VI.; but the memory of it remains in the
name College Hill, Upper Thames Street. God's House or Hospital for
thirteen poor men was moved to Highgate in 1808.
By his will Whittington directed that the inmates of his college should
pray for the souls of himself and his wife Alice, of Sir William
Whittington, and his wife Dame Joan, of Hugh Fitzwarren and his wife
Dame Malde, as well as for the souls of Richard II. and Thomas of
Woodstock, Duke of Gloucester, "special lords and promoters of the said
Whittington."
Whittington's epitaph is preserved by Stow and is in Latin; yet the
author of a _Life of Whittington_ (1811) makes the following
misstatement:--
"Record, however, has handed down to us the original epitaph, as it
was cut on the monument of Sir Richard, by order of his executors;
and, exclusive of its connection with the subject of these pages,
it may be subjoined as a curious specimen of the poetry of an age
which was comparatively with the present so entirely involved in
the darkness of superstition and ignorance."
"Beneath this s
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