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 17^th 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

Baa Baa, Black Sheep: a traditional nursery rhyme

Baa baa, black sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir,
Three bags full.
One for the master,
One for the dame,
And one for the little boy
Who lives down the lane.

This familiar nursery rhyme has its origins in the 13th century, but at that time (and until well into the 17th century) it had a different final couplet, which was:

And none for the little boy
Who cries in the lane.

(The original version of the previous line would have been “Two for the dame”)

The reason for the change was that the original meaning of the rhyme had been lost in mists of the time and it was no longer the bitter song of protest that it once was. 

The economy of England was hugely dependent on sheep for hundreds of years. This is apparent from the Domesday Book survey of 1086, in which flocks of upwards of 2,000 sheep are recorded. By the mid 13th century flocks of 8,000 sheep were not uncommon.

However, although wool production was well suited to the English climate, and production could take place on land that could not be used for growing crops, English people did not develop the necessary skills for processing wool into cloth. Instead, that work was done best by workers in Belgium and France.

That meant that a highly profitable export trade existed for English wool, which was widely recognised as being of very high quality.

King Edward I saw an opportunity to add to the royal coffers by taxing the wool trade, which at the time was making some people in England extremely rich. Much of the wealth was going to the monasteries, many of which owned vast tracts of land on which the sheep grazed. Incidentally, the fact that the monasteries were making huge profits would eventually lead to their downfall when King Henry VIII grew increasingly envious of their riches.

Edward therefore introduced (in 1275) a royal tax of six shillings and eight pence on every sack of wool that was exported, this being about one-third of its value. This left two-thirds of the value for the seller of the wool – which was still a substantial profit on the very low production costs that consisted largely of the near-starvation wages paid to an army of shepherds.

So there we have it – take three bags of wool and one belongs to the master (i.e. the king), two to the dame (mother Church), and none to the shepherd boy who has done most of the work.

Twas ever thus!

Edward’s taxes financed the Hundred Years War (fought by shepherds turned soldiers who no doubt earned more as skilled bowmen if they were prepared to take the risk – assuming that they had any choice in the matter, which was unlikely - and to this day the official seat of the Speaker of the House of Lords is a sack of wool – to remind those in power of wherein lies the source of that power and wealth.

© John Welford

Martin Chuzzlewit, by Charles Dickens: a summary of the plot

The Chuzzlewit family is introduced at a gathering at the home of Seth Pecksniff, an architect, in a village near Salisbury in Wiltshire.

The head of the family is “Old Martin”, believed by all the other family members to be incredibly rich and whose fortune most of them are scheming to acquire as large a chunk of as possible. Old Martin, a widower, has taken as his companion a penniless orphan girl, Mary Graham, on the understanding that she will be well looked after as long as he lives, but turned out in the street when he dies, thus guaranteeing his own well-being, especially as he suspects that most of the people around him would prefer him to die as soon as possible.

Old Martin’s grandson is Young Martin, the “hero” of the novel, whose interest in the fortune is outweighed by his attraction to Mary.

Far more interested in the fortune is Jonas Chuzzlewit, the son of Old Martin’s brother Anthony. Jonas also has his eyes on his father’s fortune. We gather early on that Jonas will stop at nothing to advance himself.

The other co-villain of the novel is Pecksniff, the architect, who is also a Chuzzlewit relation. Pecksniff is one of Dickens’s greatest creations, whose name has become a byword for platitudinous humbug and hypocrisy. Although his house bears a large brass plate announcing his profession, Pecksniff has never designed or built anything in his life. Instead, he takes in pupils at high tuition rates, teaches them virtually nothing, and steals their work to claim it as his own.

Pecksniff, another widower, has two daughters, Mercy and Charity (or Merry and Cherry). They share their father’s character traits and are also vain and unfeeling to boot. Also in his household is a meek and much put-upon assistant, Tom Pinch, who had originally been a pupil of Pecksniff but who now acts as his drudge, the money to pay for his tuition having long run out. Despite his situation, Tom will not hear a bad word said about Pecksniff, whom he still admires.

Pecksniff agrees to take Young Martin on as a pupil, with the idea that ingratiating himself with Old Martin might get him included in the latter’s will. However, when the two Martins quarrel, over Young Martin’s paying court to Mary Graham, Old Martin demands that Pecksniff ejects Young Martin from his practice, which Pecksniff promptly does.

(As is often the case with Dickens’s novels, various actions take place in parallel, so their timing in “reality” does not necessarily follow the order of their presentation in the novel. It is therefore easier to describe them in their logical sequence, as follows, than as they may be given in the book’s pages.)

Having been dismissed, Martin departs, accompanied by cheerful Mark Tapley of the Blue Dragon Inn in the village where Pecksniff lives, for America to seek his fortune there. Dickens had himself returned from a visit to the United States not long before beginning to write “Martin Chuzzlewit” (in 1842). Much of what he saw there disgusted and alarmed him, and provided plenty of material for satire, particularly in terms of American customs, manners and practices. The “American” pages of Chuzzlewit caused him considerable unpopularity in the States, which not only led to difficulties when he went back for a reading tour in 1867-8, but are echoed even in the present day.

In the novel, Martin is appalled by the brashness and vulgarity of the people he meets, and is swindled out of his (actually, mainly Mark’s) money when the land he invests in turns out to be a malarial swamp. Martin nearly dies of malaria but is nursed back to health by the ever-optimistic and selfless Mark. When he is well enough, the two return to England.

Although the American episode is sometimes regarded as an unnecessary interlude in the novel, and these scenes are sometimes omitted from abridged versions, Martin’s experience is life-changing and fundamental to his character development. Whereas previously he had been happy to exploit the goodwill and generosity of others (such as Mark Tapley) to suit his own ends, he now resolves to be less proud and to seek to reconcile himself with anyone he has wronged.

During his absence in America, Old Martin has fallen under the influence of Pecksniff and is now living in the latter’s home. Young Martin’s attempts to make things right with his grandfather are therefore rejected, with the firm backing of Pecksniff. Pecksniff, in the meantime, has set his eye on Mary Graham and now makes unwanted advances to her. Mary turns to Tom Pinch for protection, thus finally persuading Tom that Pecksniff is not the paragon of virtue he had imagined. Pecksniff overhears the conversation and turns Tom out.

Jonas Chuzzlewit has also appeared in the Pecksniff household. He pays court to Charity Pecksniff, which causes a breach between the sisters. This becomes even worse, later in the novel, when he ditches Charity and marries Mercy instead. The marriage is far from happy, with Jonas constantly abusing Mercy in revenge for the taunts that she had aimed at Jonas during his courtship of Charity.

Anthony Chuzzlewit dies suddenly in somewhat mysterious circumstances. Jonas has become involved in the business schemes of a petty criminal called Montague Tigg, and Tigg becomes suspicious of Jonas’s actions regarding Anthony’s death.

Dickens introduces one of his greatest comic creations in the person of Mrs Sarah (Sairey) Gamp, a nurse who arrives to lay out Anthony’s body. She is constantly drunk and talks non-stop, particularly about her imaginary friend, Mrs Harris, who never fails to shower Sarah with compliments. Mrs Gamp is never without her umbrella, and, so popular did her character become among Victorian readers, that the word “gamp” entered the language as a slang term for “umbrella”.

Montague Tigg, having changed his name to Tigg Montague, has devised a fraudulent investment scheme that would be recognised today as a “Ponzi” fraud. Investors would only get returns if later investors could be persuaded to part with their money, which would be encouraged by seeing the large profits that others were apparently making. Such a scheme must eventually collapse, although the perpetrators would hope to have fled with the cash before this happens.

In Tigg’s case, he is in a position to blackmail Jonas, because of what he knows or guesses about the death of Anthony, and Jonas is forced to seek a new investor in Pecksniff (thus causing his eventual financial ruin). However, this is not enough to save the business, and Jonas’s way out of the situation is to murder Tigg.

In the denouement, Jonas is tracked down as the murderer of Tigg, but commits suicide before he can be arrested. Old Martin reveals himself as having only pretended to fall under Pecksniff’s control, his aim being to reveal the latter for what he had always known him to be. It also turns out that he had always intended Young Martin to marry Mary Graham, and his anger had been because Young Martin had jumped the gun.

It is also revealed that Anthony had died of a broken heart at the realisation that his son wanted him dead. However, Jonas had indeed been planning to poison his father and clearly believed that he had succeeded, hence his response to Tigg’s blackmail.

At the end of the book, evil is punished, hypocrisy is undone and virtue rewarded. Nearly everyone gets their just desserts, although Tom Pinch is left alone on the last page, playing the organ to himself.

© John Welford

A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens: a summary of the plot

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times” is one of the most famous opening lines in English Literature. The particular time is 1775, and Jarvis Lorry, of Tellson’s Bank, travels from London to Paris to take Lucie Manette, who has lived nearly all her life in England, to find her father, a French doctor who has just been released after eighteen years imprisonment in the infamous Bastille, because an enemy wanted him out of the way.

They find him being looked after by Defarge, his old servant, in a very sorry state and almost out of his mind, absorbed in the shoemaking that he had taught himself whilst in the Bastille. They take him back to London where he makes a slow recovery.

Five years later, Lucie and the doctor are called as witnesses at the trial of a Frenchman, Charles Darnay, who has been falsely accused of spying. At the trial, the defence lawyer, Stryver, is advised by his assistant, Sydney Carton, that there is strong resemblance between Carton and Darnay. This makes any evidence based on identification suspect, and Darnay is acquitted as a result.

Both Darnay and Carton are attracted to Lucie. When Darnay eventually marries Lucie, Carton remains devoted to her.

Darnay is in fact the nephew of a French nobleman, the Marquis St Evrémonde, who holds his tenants in contempt and shows no sympathy when his carriage runs over and kills a young child (illustrated above). Darnay visits the Marquis and declares his opposition to the oppressive monarchist government. The Marquis is murdered. It is later revealed that the “lettre de cachet” that had placed Dr Manette in the Bastille had been issued by the Marquis.

A year later, Lucie urges Carton to abandon his dissolute ways. Jerry Cruncher, who supplements his income as a messenger for Tellson’s Bank by grave robbing, digs up the coffin of Roger Cly, a former servant of Darnay who had testified against him at his treason trial. In Paris, John Barsad, the other chief witness against Darnay, visits Defarge and his wife. Dr Manette suffers a relapse and resumes his shoemaking.

The Revolution begins in Paris with the storming of the Bastille, in which the Defarges play leading roles. M Defarge finds the former cell of Dr Manette.

Gabelle, who had formerly worked for the Marquis and acted as agent for Darnay, is imprisoned by the revolutionaries, so Darnay goes to Paris to try to help him, accompanied by Lorry and Cruncher.

However, Darnay is himself arrested and imprisoned. Lucie, plus her child, father, and servant (Miss Pross) go to Paris. Darnay is released but then re-arrested, with the Defarges producing evidence that would seem to seal his fate. Barsad is revealed, by Cruncher, as being Miss Pross’s long-lost brother Solomon.

With Darnay sentenced to death, Carton, still devoted to Lucie, goes to his cell and drugs the man that he so closely resembles, sending him back to London with Lucie and Mr Lorry. Mme Defarge is killed by Miss Pross after the former had threatened Lucie and her child.

Carton goes to the guillotine in Darnay’s place, declaring “It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done”.

This summary © John Welford

Goosie Goosie Gander: a familiar nursery rhyme

Goosie goosie gander,
Whither shall I wander?
Upstairs and downstairs
And in my lady’s chamber.
There I met an old man
Who wouldn’t say his prayers;
I took him by the left leg
And threw him down the stairs.

A dangerous time for English Catholics

This English nursery rhyme has its origins in the 16^th century during the reign of Queen Elizabeth I. The country was now firmly Protestant and being a Catholic was against the law. With England under constant threat from Catholic Europe, a practising Catholic was regarded as a dangerous alien and therefore subject to political as well as religious suspicion, much as Muslims are regarded today by some paranoid westerners.

However, many families, although outwardly going along with the mood of the time, were secretly still Catholic and went to extraordinary lengths to continue to practice their faith.

Being Catholic, they could not remain faithful without the help of a Catholic priest. They believed, for example, that an unbaptised child was condemned to Hell, as was anyone who had not received the last rites before they died. They also needed to hear Mass on a regular basis.

Catholic priests therefore toured the country in disguise, visiting families who needed their services. The authorities had a pretty good idea who the Catholic families were and therefore kept a close eye on comings and goings in the neighbourhood. Elizabeth was served by a network of spies and informers, so there was a constant battle going on between the forces of law and order and the Catholic families as to who could outwit the other.

The rhyme describes a visit to a country house by an officer who suspects that a Catholic priest is on the premises. It is still possible to view houses of the period that contain what are known as “priest holes”, namely hiding places into which a priest could be secreted when there was a knock on the door. These could be under staircases, behind fireplaces, or in cupboards in bedrooms that could only be opened by activating a secret handle.

 

A closer look at the rhyme

The “goose” of the opening line could be a reference to a Roman Catholic priest, given the connection between Rome and geese in the legend of ancient Rome being saved by the honking of geese.

The officer searches all over the house, including the “lady’s chamber”. If he has any experience of such matters he will probably know most of the tricks for creating a priest hole, and so finding an “old man” would not be difficult. Many priests would be elderly because the only young priests in the country would be ones who had been smuggled in from aboard – the majority would be priests who had been ordained years before and had “gone underground” when Elizabeth came to the throne in 1558.

If a suspected priest was found he would be challenged to recite the prayers prescribed by the Anglican Book of Common Prayer. As a Catholic he would be unable or unwilling to do this.

The punishment of being thrown down the stairs would only be the start of what a captured priest could expect. Since being a Catholic was a treasonable act, for which the penalty was death by the barbarous method of hanging, drawing and quartering, a priest could expect no less and would probably have to undergo many painful tortures as the officers tried to force him to reveal the names of his clients.

However, for a children’s rhyme, a rapid descent of the staircase was no doubt considered sufficient to get the message across!

© John Welford

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 19^th 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

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 16^th 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 16^th 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