Showing posts with label nursery rhymes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nursery rhymes. Show all posts

Thursday, 20 August 2020

Jack and Jill: a nursery rhyme explained

 


Jack and Jill went up the hill
T
o fetch a pail of water;
Jack fell down and broke his crown,
And Jill came tumbling after.

Up Jack got and down he trot,
As fast as he could caper;
He went to bed and covered his head
With vinegar and brown paper.

 

There have been several proposed explanations of this familiar nursery rhyme, and everyone is free to choose which one they consider most likely.

One suggestion is that Jack and Jill are King Louis XVI of France and his Queen, Marie Antoinette. Louis certainly ‘broke his crown’ by being executed in 1793, and Marie Antoinette’s head did indeed come tumbling after thanks to the guillotine. The poem was first published in 1795, so in this respect at least the dates do match.

The villagers of Kilmersdon in Somerset think that they have the answer, due to a tragedy that occurred in 1697. A young couple did their courting up a hill, away from the prying eyes of the local gossips. Jill became pregnant, but just before the baby was born Jack was killed when a rock fell off the hill and landed on his head. Jill died in childbirth only a few days later.

Another possibility is that it has to do with the attempt by King Charles I to reform taxation on alcohol. Having been prevented by Parliament from raising the duty, he reduced the measures by which alcohol could be served. One of these measures was the half pint, known as a Jack, and the quarter point, known as a Gill. Charles reduced both the Jack and the Gill, while keeping the prices exactly the same, thus gaining his duty increase by the back door.

But perhaps the true explanation is even older, namely an ancient Norse tale concerning a young brother and sister named Hjuki (pronounced Juk-ee) and Bil. The moon god caught them on a dark night as they were stealing a pail of water from the Bygrir Well. They were promptly spirited away to the moon, where Scandinavians have long supposed that they can be seen carrying a bucket of water attached to a long pole.

So which one of these theories – if any – do you think is most likely to be the true origin?

© John Welford

Monday, 27 April 2020

Humpty Dumpty: egg or cannon?






Everybody knows the “Humpty Dumpty” nursery rhyme, and some people will tell you that they know its origin, but are they right?

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall;
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men
Couldn’t put Humpty together again.


Most people, on hearing this nursery rhyme, immediately think of Humpty Dumpty as being an egg that fell and broke and was therefore unable to be repaired. This image is largely due to the work of John Tenniel in illustrating Lewis Carroll’s “Through the Looking Glass”, in which he pictured Humpty Dumpty as an egg, as indeed the text implies.

One theory is that the original Humpty Dumpty was not an egg, or even a person, but a large cannon that was used during the siege of Colchester in 1648, during the English Civil War. The royalists were besieged by the parliamentarians, commanded by Thomas Fairfax, and were able to keep them at bay largely due to expert use of the cannon by a gunner named “One-Eyed Thompson”, who defended the town in this way for about ten weeks.

Humpty Dumpty, it is said, was positioned on top of the tower of St Mary’s Church, which was hard by the town walls. When the tower was eventually hit by enough cannonballs from the besiegers, the cannon fell over the wall into a boggy area from where it was found to be too heavy to raise.

However, many objections have been raised to this explanation of Humpty Dumpty, mainly on the grounds of lack of historical evidence, and it is not now generally accepted. Other originals have been proposed, including King Richard III with his hunched back (according to Shakespeare), but there is no reason to accept these explanations either.

It looks as though one has to take this nursery rhyme more or less at face value, namely as a riddle for children to guess at what Humpty Dumpty could be – and an egg would be an excellent answer! It might also be a “cautionary verse” - a warning to children not to sit on high walls for fear of the consequences should they fall off.


© John Welford

Tuesday, 26 June 2018

There Was An Old Woman Who Lived In a Shoe: what does it mean?




There was an old woman who lived in a shoe,
She had so many children she didn’t know what to do;
So she gave them some broth without any bread,
And she whipped them all soundly and sent them to bed.


This may just sound like a nonsense rhyme but it does have a real meaning behind it. Like many so-called nursery rhymes it was political in origin, dating from the reign of King George II of Great Britain (reigned 1727-60).

George was the second king of the Hanoverian dynasty (from which the current royal family are descended), coming to the throne in 1727, but he was not very popular with the British public. He had been born abroad and found the English language difficult. He also found the business of governing not to his liking and tended to leave the major decisions to his much more able wife, Queen Caroline. He therefore acquired the nickname of “the old woman”.

He also found that the leading minister of the day, Sir Robert Walpole, was able to control Parliament and that he had very little influence over what the members of parliament did. They were therefore the unruly children of the rhyme.

Many people in the country had been ruined by the bursting of the South Sea Bubble in 1721, and King George was keen to involve Britain in foreign wars, notably the series of struggles that became known as the War of the Austrian Succession (1740-8). This meant that there was very little money in the public purse (“broth without any bread”). 

The king demanded that Parliament should remain in constant session and that its members should attend every day to vote the way he wanted them to, although, as mentioned above, it was Walpole who really controlled matters. A demand that MPs vote in a certain way is referred to as a “whip”, which derives from the “whipper-in” on the hunting field who kept the hounds in line. 

The “children” were therefore soundly whipped and sent to “bed”, namely the House of Commons.

The shoe in the rhyme could also be a reference to marital fertility, as symbolised by the throwing of shoes as the bride and groom left for their honeymoon. George and Caroline were certainly fertile, having eight surviving children.

The “old woman” rhyme was therefore a way of poking fun at the inadequacies of an unpopular king, with its meanings hidden in such a way that anyone reciting it could not be accused of directly insulting King George.

© John Welford

Thursday, 22 March 2018

Sing a Song of Sixpence: a traditional nursery rhyme



Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful of rye
Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie
When the pie was opened the birds began to sing
Wasn’t that a dainty dish to set before the king?
The king was in his counting house counting out his money
The queen was in the parlour eating bread and honey
The maid was in the garden, hanging out the clothes
When down came a blackbird and pecked off her nose

This familiar nursery rhyme has been going the rounds for hundreds of years and its popularity owes much to the dramatic images it presents of birds flying out of pies and noses being pecked off unsuspecting maids. But does it perhaps have a more sinister meaning than the nonsense that it would appear to present?

Nobody is completely sure about the origin of this rhyme, but it may have a similar root to that of “Little Jack Horner” in that both refer to items being hidden in pies. The latter rhyme is almost certainly a reference to an incident during the 16th century Dissolution of the Monasteries carried out on the orders of King Henry VIII, so it is entirely possible that “Sing a song of sixpence” has a similar theme.

King Henry ordered the break-up of England’s religious houses after he had declared himself to be the head of the English Church in opposition to the Pope. This came about after he had divorced his first wife, Catherine of Aragon, and married his second, Anne Boleyn, who was fated to fall from grace even more spectacularly. Neither queen had been able to provide Henry with what he most desired, namely a male heir.

So that accounts for the king, the queen (Catherine) and the maid (Anne). In “Little Jack Horner” the pie contained the deeds of monastic houses that were being conveyed to the king, so the blackbirds could easily be the same, or black-clad protestant clergymen who were only too happy to seize the deeds and present them to the king, in the expectation of rewards and preferments coming their way. On arrival, much “singing” would take place and the king would have plenty of “sixpences” to count in his counting house.

However, one particular blackbird, namely Thomas Cromwell who was King Henry’s Machiavellian chief minister, would later play a decisive role in the fall of Ann Boleyn who would lose considerably more than just her nose.

That is just one possible explanation, and others have been suggested. At any event, one can be assured that this simple little ditty has a much deeper meaning than might be apparent at first sight, whatever that meaning might be.


© John Welford

Wednesday, 21 March 2018

Pussy Cat, Pussy Cat, Where Have You Been? A traditional nursery rhyme



Pussy cat, pussy cat, where have you been?
I’ve been to London to look at the Queen.
Pussy cat, pussy cat, what did you there?
I frightened a little mouse under her chair.

This little rhyme may have its origins in an actual incident in which a cat played a small part in the life of a monarch and got the best of the deal.

Cats are renowned for doing exactly what they want to do and being no respecter of persons. The old saying “A cat may look at a king” bears out this truth, and may indeed originate with the incident that gave rise to the rhyme.

The monarch in question was Queen Elizabeth I, but the cat remains nameless. It seems to have been an elderly tomcat that wandered round Windsor Castle and went wherever he felt like going. One day he decided to settle down for a snooze underneath a large chair that was actually the throne used by the Queen when dealing with official business and holding royal audiences.

As the cat slept on, the Queen arrived, as did her courtiers and the dignitaries, possibly foreign ambassadors, who had been granted an audience.

All the scraping of feet on the tiled floor, and maybe the occasional barked order, caused the cat to wake up in a state of panic. He did what all cats do under such circumstances and ran for safety – right underneath the Queen’s robes and between her feet, much to the alarm of everyone assembled and especially the most powerful person in Europe, namely Queen Elizabeth I.

The Queen screamed and flunkies ran after the cat as it tried to flee from the room. They caught it and – after the audience was over – brought it to the Queen so that due sentence could be passed.

However, Her Majesty, now fully recovered from her fright, was able to see the funny side of the affair and was prepared to be lenient. She gave a royal command that the cat was to be allowed to continue to wander round the castle as he wished, as long as he did a good job by helping to kill rats and mice.

Cats have always been useful in vermin control, and the tradition has continued down to the present day of giving due respect to cats in high places. For example, two regularly seen residents of London’s Downing Street are government employees named Larry and Palmerston. Larry is the latest holder of the office of Chief Mouser, which is a huge step up from his previous life as a stray tabby rescued by the Battersea Dogs and Cats Home.

Larry, the Number 10 cat, has eventually learned to tolerate the presence of Palmerston, who belongs to the Foreign Office, although there have been disagreements between them in the past. The verbal squabbles in the Cabinet Room have been as nothing to the real catfights that have taken place in the street outside!

© John Welford

Monday, 19 March 2018

Jack Sprat: a traditional nursery rhyme



Jack Sprat could eat no fat
His wife could eat no lean
And so between them both
They licked the platter clean

This familiar nursery rhyme may have its origin back in the 12th century when King Richard I set off on a crusade and left the realm of England in the care of his younger brother Prince John. John was the youngest of four sons, and thus the runt of the litter – or “Jack Sprat”.

John’s wife, Isabella of Gloucester, was renowned for her personal greed. She had, after all, gained all the property belonging to the earldom of Gloucester after her two sisters were disinherited in her favour by her marriage agreement to John.

However, the action mentioned in the rhyme probably had a more laudable motive than might appear at first sight. When Richard was on his way home from the crusade he was captured by Duke Leopold of Austria, who handed him over to the Holy Roman Emperor who in turn demanded a massive ransom for his release.

John and Isabella then set about gathering the money by all means available. They exhausted their own funds and then set about getting as much as they could from the rest of England, including raising taxes on clergy and laymen to the value of a quarter of their property.

They thus “licked the platter clean” in their efforts to bring Richard home, which were eventually successful. John’s subsequent unpopularity stemmed in part from this attempt to support his more popular brother, despite the fact that Richard only spent a few months of his ten year reign in England.


© John Welford

I Had a Little Nut Tree: the meaning behind a traditional nursery rhyme



Many traditional English nursery rhymes have their origin in actual historical events. “I had a little nut tree” is one such.

The rhyme
I had a little nut tree
Nothing would it bear
But a silver nutmeg
And a golden pear.
The King of Spain’s daughter
Came to visit me,
And all for sake
Of my little nut tree.
Her dress was made of crimson
Jet black was her hair,
She asked me for my nut tree
And my golden pear.
I said “So fair a princess
Never did I see;
I will give you all the fruit
From my little nut tree.”

The meaning
This simple nursery rhyme refers to the dynastic marriage between Catherine of Aragon (daughter of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella of Spain) and Prince Arthur, the son and heir of King Henry VII of England. 
The speaker of the rhyme can therefore be taken as Prince Arthur, or his father, or the whole of England. 
The marriage plans went awry when Prince Arthur died within a year of the 1501 marriage. King Henry, who was always careful where money was concerned, did not want to return Catherine’s dowry so he quickly proposed Plan B, which was that she should marry King Henry’s younger son, also named Henry, when the latter was old enough (he was not yet 11 years old when Arthur died). 
The nut tree is therefore the source of the wealth of England that King Henry was willing to trade with Spain. Nutmeg refers to the spices that English trade with the Far East was bringing in, and pears are shorthand for England’s agricultural produce. 
These commodities are England’s silver and gold, in that Henry was hoping to acquire some of the wealth that Spain was accumulating as a result of its explorations in the Americas. Henry may have regretted that he had turned down the chance to finance Christopher Columbus’s voyage in 1492, and been mindful that it was Ferdinand and Isabella who had done so and that they were now reaping the benefits. He now had an opportunity to repair some of the damage.
As far as England was concerned, “all the fruit from my little nut tree” was a price well worth paying for a share in the wealth of the Americas.

© John Welford

Sunday, 18 March 2018

Hickory, Dickory, Dock: the meaning behind a traditional nursery rhyme



“Hickory, dickory, dock” is a simple little rhyme about a mouse and a clock, but it probably refers to one of Britain’s least known-about rulers who made a brief appearance on the political scene in the 17th century.

Hickory, dickory, dock

Hickory, dickory, dock 
The mouse ran up the clock.
The clock struck one,
The mouse ran down,
Hickory, dickory, dock.

This nursery rhyme first appeared in print in 1743 but is thought to refer to events of the previous century.


Richard Cromwell, Lord Protector

 Britain was a republic between the execution of King Charles I in 1649 and the restoration of the monarchy, under King Charles II, in 1660. The name of Oliver Cromwell is well known, given that he assumed the title of Lord Protector for most of this period, but that of Richard Cromwell, Oliver’s eldest surviving son, is much less familiar.

Oliver Cromwell died in September 1658, having proposed to Parliament that Richard should succeed him. However, Richard was not only inadequately prepared for the role, he was also not suited for it temperamentally. He was simply not the right man for the job and had no real desire for it.

As a result, Richard Cromwell only lasted for nine months as Lord Protector before offering his resignation. Moves were then set in train for the return of the monarchy. Richard was allowed to leave the country for France, where he stayed until 1680 before returning to England. King Charles saw him as no threat and allowed him to live out his days in obscurity on his estate. He died in 1712 at the age of 85.

Richard was given several nicknames including “Tumbledown Dick”, which fits the spirit of the nursery rhyme. As “Hickory Dick” his life at the top was limited by the passage of time. Just as surely as he “ran up the clock” he was bound to run down it again, the “one” of the rhyme being the one year during which he held office. Richard’s timid, mouse-like demeanour, in great contrast to that of his father, is also represented in the rhyme.

 There is a second verse to the rhyme that is rarely heard and which refers to “the man in brown” who “soon brought him down”. This can be taken to be King Charles II, who had, during the early years of Oliver Cromwell’s rule, been forced to disguise himself to avoid capture before he could escape to France.

© John Welford

Sunday, 8 January 2017

Ring-a-ring of roses: a misunderstood nursery rhyme



Ring-a-ring of roses,
A pocketful of posies;
A-tishoo! A-tishoo!
We all fall down.

Everyone knows that this nursery rhyme has its origins in the Plague – either the Great Plague that afflicted London in 1665 or the much wider Black Death of the 1340s. The first and third lines describe two of the symptoms of the disease, the second refers to the practice of carrying pockets-full of sweet-smelling flowers to ward off infection, and the final line is a clear reference to the inevitable outcome.

Unfortunately, this is a case of “everyone has got it wrong”! There is no evidence that bubonic plague involved either red rings on the skin or sneezing as early symptoms, nor that anyone believed that they could ward off the disease by smelling flowers.

Another problem with this explanation is that there is no record of the rhyme existing any earlier than the 19th century, and that would surely not be the case if it had its origins in either plague outbreak mentioned above.

Thirdly, the version quoted above is not the only one that has appeared in print, and various alternatives have completely different offerings for some of the lines that have no connotations to any supposed plague symptoms or results.

The conclusion must therefore be that this is a simple children’s game that uses easily remembered words that children can recite and link to the actions of walking in a circle, sneezing and falling over.

© John Welford


Thursday, 22 December 2016

Little Jack Horner: a nursery rhyme explained



Little Jack Horner
Sat in a corner
Eating a Christmas pie.
He put in a thumb
And pulled out a plum
And said “What a good boy am I!”

This familiar nursery rhyme has its origins in the 16th century and the Dissolution of the Monasteries during the reign of King Henry VIII.

The Abbot of Glastonbury in Somerset, Richard Whyting, was determined to resist the dissolution of his own monastery, which was an extremely wealthy one. He thought that he could get round King Henry by offering him a bribe, in the shape of twelve manor houses that were owned by the abbey.

Whyting therefore sent his steward, Thomas Horner, to Hampton Court Palace with the deeds of the manor houses. The law at the time stipulated that the holder of a deed was the owner of the property, so it was essential that the deeds did not fall into the wrong hands. They were therefore hidden in a large pie.

However, Thomas Horner was not as trustworthy as the abbot had imagined. During the journey Thomas Horner lifted the crust of the pie and removed one of the deeds, namely that of Mells Manor. King Henry was therefore offered eleven deeds, not twelve.

Whether the full bribe would have worked is a matter for conjecture, because the slightly reduced one did not. Glastonbury Abbey was dissolved, along with the rest, and Abbot Whyting was put on trial for having dared to set himself against the will of King Henry. One of the jurors at the trial was Thomas Horner, now the master of Mells Manor. Richard Whyting was found guilty and sentenced to death, being hanged, drawn and quartered at the top of Glastonbury Tor.

Interestingly, the slang word for £1000 in the 16th century was “plum”, although any sum of money that an ordinary person would regard as being way beyond their reach could also be called a plum. We still use the term “plum job” to describe one that seems to offer a good return for doing very little. Thomas Horner’s plum was the large house that he now occupied.

The Horner family still owns Mells Manor, although they dispute the story of how it came into their possession, preferring to state that Thomas Horner acquired the deeds by purchase or as a gift from the king. However, the story of the pie clearly went the rounds at the time, in the form of the famous rhyme, and everyone prefers a tale of skulduggery to one of honesty, every time!

© John Welford