Comparative Studies in Nursery Rhymes

"The spink (or finch) and the lark intended to marry. On the first day of the wedding they had nothing to eat."

A gadfly on his neck brought a loaf, a gnat brought a cask, a butterfly a joint, and a sparrow brought grapes. The flea jumped out of the bed and began to dance, and the louse came forth from the rags and seized the flea by the arm. Then the rat came out of his hole and acted as drummer, when in rushed the cat and devoured him.

Exactly the same story is told in much the same form in Catalan of La golondrina y el pinzon, "The goldfinch and the swallow," but the verses on the gay rat and the destructive cat are wanting (Mi., p. 398). Other versions have been recorded in the centre and in the North of France, one of which was printed in 1780 (Ro., II, 180, 212; D. B., p. 106). From thence the song was probably carried to Canada, where it reappears as Pinson et Cendrouille, "The finch and the nuthatch" (G., p. 275). Here the ending is that the rat played the fiddle, and the cat rushed in and spoilt the fun.

These stories of bird-weddings should be compared with one which describes how the flea and the louse combined to set up house together and came to grief. It is told in Catalan of La purga y er piejo (Ma., p. 74). In Languedoc the same story is told of La fourmiho e le pouzouil, "the ant and the flea" (M. L., p. 508). In form these pieces closely correspond with our bird-wedding. There is the same communal feast to which the various guests bring contributions, and the same revelry which ends in disaster.

This Spanish piece on the housekeeping of the louse and the flea has a further parallel in the story called Laüschen und Flöhchen, "The louse and the flea," which is included in the fairy tales of Grimm (No. 30). But the German story is told in the cumulative form of recitation, and its contents are yet one stage more primitive. There is nothing on a wedding celebration. The louse and the flea set up house together, and began by brewing beer in an eggshell. The flea fell in by inadvertence and was drowned. Then the louse set up the wail. In this the door joined by jarring, the broom by sweeping, the cart by running, the dungheap by reeking, the tree by shaking, till they were all carried away by the brook.

Much the same story, told in cumulative form also and equally primitive, is current among ourselves. It seems to be old (1890, p. 454), and is called Tittymouse and Tattymouse. We read how Tittymouse and Tattymouse went a-leasing (gleaning), and set about boiling a pudding. Titty fell in and was scalded to death. Then Tatty set up the wail. It was joined by the stool that hopped, the besom that swept, the window that creaked, the tree that shed its leaves, the bird that moulted its feathers, and the girl that spilt the milk. Finally an old man fell from a ladder, and all were buried beneath the ruins. Tittymouse and Tattymouse are usually represented as mice, but the word tittymouse is also allied to titmouse, a bird. Titty and Tatty are among the many rhyming compounds of which the meaning is no longer clear.

The conceptions on which these pieces are based all recall primitive customs. The wedding is a communal feast to which contributions of different kinds are brought by the several guests. Again the death of one individual draws that of a number of others in its wake. On comparing these various pieces, we find that those which are set in cumulative form, judging from their contents, are the more primitive. This supports the view that the cumulative form of recitation represents an earlier development in literature than rhymed verse.

The toy-book on The Courtship of Cock Robin and Jenny Wren attributes the robin's death to the carelessness of the sparrow. The sparrow is also described as causing the death of the robin in the knell of the robin, which is one of our oldest and most finished nursery pieces. The death of the robin is a calamity, his blood is treasured, he is buried with solemnity. In the collections of 1744 and 1771 the knell stands as follows:—

The Death and Burial of Cock Robin formed the contents of a toy-book that was printed by Marshall in London, by Rusher in Banbury, and others. One of the early toy-books belonging to Pearson, which are exhibited at South Kensington Museum, contain verses of this knell with quaint illustrations. The toy-book published by Marshall which contains the knell, is described as "a pretty gilded toy, for either girl or boy." It leads up to the knell by the following verse, which occurs already as a separate rhyme in the nursery collection of 1744:—

This is followed by the picture of a dead robin with the words:—

We then read the four verses of the knell already cited, and further verses on the owl so brave that dug the grave; the parson rook who read the book; the lark who said amen like a clerk; the kite who came in the night; the wren, both cock and hen; the thrush sitting in a bush; the bull who the bell did pull.

In another toy-book the magpie takes the place of the fly, and from the illustration in a third one we gather that not a bull but a bullfinch originally pulled the bell.

The toy-book published by Marshall concludes:—

The antiquity of this knell of the robin is apparent when we come to compare it with its foreign parallels, which are current in France, Italy, and Spain. In these rhymes also, those who undertake the office of burial are usually birds, but the nature of him whose death is deplored remains obscure.

In Germany he is sometimes Sporbrod, sometimes Ohnebrod, that is "breadless" (Sim., p. 70), a term which may indicate a pauper. The piece current in Mecklenburg is simpler in form than ours.

"Who is dead?—Breadless. When will he be buried?—On the eve of the day after to-morrow, with spades and with shovels. The Cuckoo is the gravedigger, the Stork is the bell-ringer, the Pee-wit acts as scholar, with all his sisters and brothers."

The knell that is recited in Languedoc is called Las Campanas, the bells. One version begins:—

"Ding[Pg 213] dong, the bell of St. John.—Who tolls it and who says (mass)?—The priest of St. Denis.—Who sounds the knell?—The four ravens.—Who bears the coffin?—The cat in its maw.—Who wears mourning?—The partridge."

Another version preserves the trait that the individual's possessions took part in the mourning:

"Balanli, balanlau, the bells near Yssingeaux are all tolled through April. Who is dead?—Jan of the Gardens (dos Ort). Who carries him to his grave?—His great coat. Who follows him?—His hat. Who mourns for him?—The frog. Who sings for him?—The toad. Who forsakes him?—His sabots. Who says so?—Jan the less. What shall we give him?—The legs of a dog. Where shall we find them?—Near Chalençons there are plenty." (M. L., p. 232.)

Jan dos Ort in other versions of the knell is called Jean le Porc, also le père du jardin; and in the latter case, le père petit, the little father, pronounces him dead, and receives dogflesh (M. L., pp. 226, 230).

The Italian knell is quite short:—

The Spanish knell is not much longer:—

"Who is dead?—Crooked Juan. Who mourns for him?—The swallow. Who sings for him?—His coat. Who calls for him?—The quail."

Victor Smith, with reference to these chants, enlarged on the possible nature of Jan, or Juan, of the French and Spanish versions, who is called also "the father of the gardens," and who was given dogflesh to eat. In illustration he adduced the legend of the god Pan, who was looked upon as the father of gardens, and who was supposed to eat dogflesh (M. L., p. 227). Dogs were sacrificed at the Lupercalia which were kept in April, and the month of April is actually mentioned in one of the French chants. If this interpretation is correct, the knells on Jan current in France and Spain preserve the remembrance, not of a bird sacrifice, but of a dog sacrifice. But the Italian name Beccatorto is probably crossbill (R., II, 160), and birds appear as the chief mourners in most of the foreign chants, as they do in ours.

CHAPTER XVIII

At the outset we saw that our nursery collections consist of a variety of pieces of diverse origin. Many rhymes are songs or snatches of songs which have no direct claim on the attention of the student of folk-lore. Other pieces are relatively new, although they contain names that are old. Thus, Old King Cole and Mother Hubbard are names that go some way back in history; the story of the woman who fell asleep out of doors and forgot her identity, preserves an old tradition; Jack and Jill are connected with Scandinavian mythology; while Tommy Linn, the hero of several nursery pieces, figures in romantic ballad literature also.

A more primitive form of literature is represented by traditional dancing and singing games, to which many nursery rhymes can be traced. These games in several instances preserve the remains of celebrations that date from heathen times. In the last instance they survive as a diversion of the ballroom. Incidental allusions enabled us to establish the relation between the Cotillon, the Cushion Dance, and the game of Sally Waters. This latter game preserves features of a marriage rite, which was presided over by a woman who was addressed as mother. The words used in the game and the rite suggest that there may be some connection between the game of Sally Waters and the name of Sul, the local goddess of the waters at Bath.

Other traits preserved in the games of The Lady of the Land, Little Dog I call you, and Drop Handkerchief, probably date from the same period. For the comparison of these games with their foreign parallels enabled us to realize that, in their case also, it is a question of a presiding mother, who, in some of the German versions of the game, was addressed by the name of a heathen mother divinity. Engelland, that is Babyland, and the disabled condition of the human mother, which are mentioned in these games, reappear in the ladybird rhymes. In these we also come across Ann or Nan, who reappears under the same name in the corresponding rhymes of Switzerland and Swabia.

On comparing our rhymes with those of other countries, we find that the same thoughts and conceptions are usually expressed in different countries in the same form of verse. The words that are used, both in England and abroad, in dancing and singing games, in custom rhymes like those addressed to the ladybird, and in riddle-rhymes such as that in Humpty-Dumpty, are set in short verse that depends on tail rhyme for its consistency. Distinct from them are the pieces that depend for their consistency on repetition and cumulation. Some of these are obviously intended to convey instruction, like the chants of Numbers and of the Creed. Others appear to be connected with the making and unmaking of spells. Again in this case, the parallel pieces of different countries are set in the same form of verse.

Another class of rhymes is represented by the chants on bird sacrifice. Those current among ourselves depend for their consistency on repetition only, while those current abroad which present details on the plucking and the dividing up of the bird, are related in cumulative form. Perhaps the repetition which preserves the simpler facts of the custom is the older form of recitation. The kingship of the wren which is accepted throughout Europe, and which dates some way back in history, in some of these chants is connected with the kingship of the man who was engaged in the hunt. Possibly the custom of killing the king was overlaid by the custom of sacrificing a bird in his stead.

The reverence felt for the wren is equalled among ourselves by the reverence felt for the robin, whose knell remains one of our finest, and perhaps one of our oldest nursery pieces. It is set in dialogue form, which seems to have been generally associated with bells, but which was a primitive manner of recitation, as we gather from other pieces.

The information which can be derived from nursery rhymes corroborates what has been collected elsewhere concerning different stages of social history in the heathen past. Some pieces preserve allusions which carry us back to customs that prevailed during the so-called mother age; others, quite distinct from them, are based on conceptions that may have taken rise before man tilled the soil. The spread of European nursery rhymes, taken in the bulk, appears to be independent of the usual racial divisions. Some of our rhymes, such as that of the ladybird and Humpty Dumpty have their closest parallels in Germany and Scandinavia; others, such as the bird-chants and the animal weddings, have corresponding versions in France and in Spain. Moreover, some of the ideas that are expressed in rhymes carry us beyond the confines of Europe. The chafer was associated with the sun in Egypt, the broken egg engaged the attention of the thinking in Tibet.

Thus the comparative study of the nursery rhymes of different countries throws light on allusions which otherwise remain obscure, and opens up a new vista of research. The evidence which is here deduced from some rhymes, and the interpretation put on others, may be called into question. Much remains to be said on the subject. But the reader will, I think, agree that nursery rhymes preserve much that is meaningful in itself, and worth the attention of the student.

LIST OF FOREIGN COLLECTIONS

ALPHABETICAL INDEX