I have come across a verse sung on Earl Grey and Lord Brougham, written in 1835, which may have been in imitation of this song:—
Mother Bunch is a familiar character of British folk-lore, who figures in old chapbooks as a keeper of old-world saws, and gives advice in matters matrimonial. One of the earliest accounts of her is Pasquill's Jests with the Merriments of Mother Bunch, extant in several editions, which was reprinted by Hazlitt in Old English Jestbooks, 1864, Vol. III. There are also Mother Bunch's Closet newly broke open, Mother Bunch's Golden Fortune Teller, and Mother Bunch's Fairy Tales, published by Harris in 1802. The name also occurs in Mother Osborne's Letter to the Protestant Dissenters rendered into English Metre by Mother Bunch, 1733. Mother Bunch, like Mother Goose and Mother Shipton, may be a traditional name, for Mother Bunch has survived in connections which suggest both the wise woman and the witch.
Another old song which figures in early nursery collections is as follows:—
Chappell mentions a song called, What care I how fair she be, which goes back to before 1620.[18] The words of these songs seem to have suggested a parody addressed to Zachary Macaulay, the father of the historian, who pleaded the cause of the slaves. The Bill for the abolition of slavery was passed in 1833, and the following quatrain was sung with reference to it:—
Another so-called nursery rhyme which is no more than a popular song has been traced some way back in history by Halliwell, who gives it in two variations:—
In Deuteromalia of 1609 this stands as follows:—
Among the popular songs which have found their way into nursery collections is the one known as A Frog he would a wooing go, the subject of which is old. Already in 1549 the shepherds of Scotland sang a song called, The Frog cam to the Myldur. In the year 1580 there was licensed, A most strange Wedding of the Frog and the Mouse, as appears from the books of the Stationers' Company cited by Warton.[19] The song has been preserved in many variations with a variety of burdens. These burdens sound like nonsense, but in some cases the same words appear elsewhere in a different application, which shows that they were not originally unmeaning.
The oldest known version of the song begins:—
The expression humble dum occurs in other songs and seems to indicate triumph; the word tweedle represents the sound made by the pipes.
A Scottish variation of the song begins:—
In the nursery collection of c. 1783 the song begins:—
The origin and meaning of this burden remains obscure.
The antiquity and the wide popularity of these verses are further shown by a song written in imitation of it, called A Ditty on a High Amore at St. James, and set to a popular tune, which dates from before 1714. It is in verse, and begins:—
In the accepted nursery version the song begins:—
This burden is said by a correspondent of Notes and Queries to have been first inserted in the old song as a burden by Liston. His song, entitled The Love-sick Frog, with an original tune by C. E. H., Esq. (perhaps Charles Edward Horn), and an accompaniment by Thomas Cook, was published by Goulding & Co., Soho Square, in the early part of the nineteenth century (N. & Q., I, 458). The burden has been traced back to the jeu d'esprit of 1809 on the installation of Lord Grenville as Chancellor of Oxford, which another correspondent quotes from memory:—
Another variation of the song of The Frog and the Mouse of about 1800 begins:—
This expression, heigho, crowdie, contains a call to the crowd to strike up. The crowd is the oldest kind of British fiddle, which had no neck and only three strings. It is mentioned as a British instrument already by the low Latin poet Fortunatus towards the close of the sixth century: "Chrotta Britannia canat." The instrument is well known to this day in Wales as the crwth.
The word crowdy occurs also as a verb in one of the numerous nursery rhymes referring to scenes of revelry, at which folk-humour pictured the cat making music:—
This verse and a number of others go back to the festivities that were connected with Twelfth Night. Some of them preserve expressions in the form of burdens which have no apparent sense; in other rhymes the same expressions have the force of a definite meaning. Probably the verses in which the words retain a meaning have the greater claim to antiquity.
Thus among the black-letter ballads is a song[23] which is found also in the nursery collection of 1810 under the designation The Lady's Song in Leap Year.
Halliwell cites this song in a form in which the words are put into the lips of the king, and associates it with the amusements of Twelfth Night:—
The expression diddle diddle according to Murray's Dictionary means to make music without the utterance of words, while fiddle faddle is said to indicate nonsense, and to fiddle is to fuss. But both words seem to go back to the association of dancing, as is suggested by the songs on Twelfth Night, or by the following nursery rhyme which refers to the same celebration.
The following variation of this verse occurs in the Nursery Songs published by Rusher:—
In both cases the cat was fiddling, that is moving to instrumental music without the utterance of words, and called upon the others to do so while she played the pipes. Her association with an actual fiddle, however, is preserved in the following rhyme which I cite in two of its numerous variations:—
This rhyme also refers to the revelry which accompanied a feast, probably the one of Twelfth Night also.
RHYMES IN TOY-BOOKS
MANY of our longer nursery pieces first appeared in print in the diminutive toy-books already described, which represent so curious a development in the literature of the eighteenth century. These books were sometimes hawked about in one or more sheets, which were afterwards folded so as to form a booklet of sixteen, thirty-two, or sixty-four pages. Others were issued sewn and bound in brilliant covers, at a cost of as much as a shilling or eighteen pence. Usually each page contained one verse which was illustrated by an appropriate cut. In the toy-books which tell a consecutive story, the number of verses of the several pieces seem to have been curtailed or enlarged in order to fit the required size of the book.
It is in these toy-books that we first come across famous nursery pieces such as the Alphabet which begins:—
This first appeared in A Little Book for Little Children by T. W., sold at the Ring in Little Britain. It contains a portrait of Queen Anne, and probably goes back to the early part of the eighteenth century.
The Topbook of all, already mentioned, which is of about 1760, contains the oldest version that I have come across of the words used in playing The Gaping, Wide-mouthed, Waddling Frog, each verse of which is illustrated by a rough cut. Again, The Tragic Death of A, Apple Pie, which, as mentioned above, was cited as far back as 1671, forms the contents of a toy-book issued by J. Evans about the year 1791 at the price of a farthing. The Death and Burial of Cock Robin fills a toy-book which was published by J. Marshall, London, and again by Rusher at Banbury; both editions are undated. Again The Courtship, Marriage, and Picnic Dinner of Cock Robin and Jenny Wren form the contents of a toy-book dated 1810 and published by Harris, and The Life and Death of Jenny Wren appeared in a toy-book dated 1813, issued by J. Evans.
Another famous toy-book contained The Comic Adventures of Old Mother Hubbard and her Dog. This story was first issued in toy-book form by J. Harris, "successor to E. Newbery at the corner of St. Paul's Churchyard," probably at the beginning of 1806, at the cost of eighteen pence. A copy of the second edition, which mentions the date 1 May, 1806, is at the British Museum. It contains the words "to T. B. Esquire, M.P. county of XX, at whose suggestion and at whose house these notable sketches were first designed, this volume is with all suitable deference dedicated by his humble servant S. C. M." The coffin which is represented in one of the cuts in the book bears the initials S. C. M., and the date 1804. This inscribing of the author's initials on a coffin is quite in keeping with the tone of toy-book literature.
In October, 1805, J. Harris had published Whimsical Incidents, or the Power of Music, a poetic tale by a near relation of Old Mother Hubbard, which has little to recommend it, and contains nothing on the dog. On its first page stands a verse which figures independently as a nursery rhyme in some later collections:—
J. Harris also published in March, 1806, Pug's Visit, or the Disasters of Mr. Punch, a sequel to the Comic Adventures of Mother Hubbard and her Dog. This has a dedication framed in the same style, "To P. A. Esquire ... by his humble servant W. F."
The success of the Comic Adventures of Mother Hubbard and her Dog was instantaneous and lasting. In The Courtship of Jenny Wren, which is dated 1810, while its cuts bear the date 1806, Parson Rook is represented carrying "Mother Hubbard's book," and a foot-note is added to the effect that "upwards of ten thousand copies of this celebrated work have been distributed in various parts of the country in a few months." The Comic Adventures were read all over London and in the provinces, both in the original and in pirated editions, of which I have seen copies issued by J. Evans of Long Lane, West Smithfield; by W. S. Johnson of 60 St. Martin's Lane; by J. Marshall of Aldermary Churchyard; and by others. A very diminutive toy-book containing verses of the tale of Mother Hubbard, illustrated with rough cuts, is on view at South Kensington Museum among the exhibits of A. Pearson. I do not know its publisher.
The Comic Adventures of Mother Hubbard are usually told in fourteen verses, which refer to the dame's going to the cupboard, to her going for bread, for a coffin, for tripe, beer, wine, fruit, a coat, a hat, a wig, shoes, hose, and linen. The story ends:—
But some editions have an additional rhyme on the dame's going for fish; and the edition at South Kensington has the verse:—
In the edition of Rusher, instead of "the dog made a bow," we read "Prin and Puss made a bow."
In Halliwell's estimation the tale of Mother Hubbard and her dog is of some antiquity, "were we merely to judge," he says, "of the rhyme of laughing to coffin in the third verse."
But it seems possible also that the author of the poem had running in his mind a verse containing this rhyme, which occurs already in the Infant Institutes of 1797, where it stands as follows:—
This piece contains curious mythological allusions, as we shall see later.
It may be added that the nursery collection of 1810 (p. 37) contains the first verse only of Mother Hubbard, which favours the view expressed by Halliwell, that the compiler of the famous book did not invent the subject nor the metre of his piece, but wrote additional verses to an older story.
The association of Mother Hubbard and the dog may be relatively new, but the name Mother Hubbard itself has some claim to antiquity. For a political satire by Edmund Spenser was called Prosopopeia or Mother Hubberd's Tale. It was a youthful effort of the poet, and was soon forgotten. In this piece "the good old woman was height Mother Hubberd who did far surpass the rest in honest mirth," and who related the fable of the fox and the ape. Also Thomas Middleton in 1604 published Father Hubburd's Tale, or the Ant and the Nightingale, in the introduction to which he addressed the reader as follows:—"Why I call these Father Hubburd's tales, is not to have them called in again as the Tale of Mother Hubburd. The world would shew little judgment in that i' faith; and I should say then plena stultorum omnia; for I entreat (i.e. treat) here neither of rugged (i.e. ragged) bears or apes, no, nor the lamentable downfall of the old wife's platters—I deal with no such metal ... etc."
We do not know that Spenser's tale was "called in again," nor does it mention ragged bears and platters. Middleton must therefore be referring to a different production to which obstruction was offered by the public authorities. In any case the name of Mother Hubburd, or Hubbard, was familiar long before the publication of the story of the dame and her dog.
Father Hubberd, who is mentioned by Middleton, figures in nursery lore also. A rhyme is cited which mentions him in connection with the traditional cupboard:—
Were they figured as cats?
The form of verse of this piece on Father Hubbard reproduces the chiming of bells. The same form of verse is used also in the following:—
The old play of Ralph Roister Doister, written about the year 1550, ends with a "peele of bells rung by the parish clerk," which is in the same form of verse:—
RHYMES AND BALLADS
VARIOUS nursery pieces deal with material which forms the subject of romantic ballads also. Romantic ballads, like popular songs, are preserved in a number of variations, for they were sung again and again to suit the modified taste of succeeding ages. Many romantic ballads retain much that is pre-Christian in disposition and sentiment. The finest collection of romantic ballads during recent times was made by Child,[24] who included the fireside versions of ballads that have come down to us through nursery literature. Child puts forward the opinion that where we are in possession of a romantic and a fireside version of the same ballad, the latter is a late and degraded survival. But this hardly seems probable, considering that the nursery version of the tale is usually simpler in form, and often consists of dialogue only.
In the estimation of Gregory Smith, the oldest extant examples of romantic ballads "do not date further back than the second and third quarter of the fifteenth century" (that is between 1425 and 1475), "since the way in which the incidents in these are presented, reflects the taste of that age."[25] This applies to romantic ballads that are highly complex in form. The fireside version of the same story may have flowed from the same source. The question hangs together with that of the origin of the ballad, which may have arisen in connection with dancing and singing, but the subject needs investigation.
Among our famous early ballads is that of The Elfin Knight, the oldest printed copy of which is of 1670.
It begins as follows:—
The ballad goes on to describe how problems were bandied between the Elfin Knight and a lady. The one on whom an impossible task was imposed stood acquitted if he devised a task of no less difficulty, which must first be performed by his opponent. Such flytings go far back in literature. In this case the Elfin Knight staked his plaid, that is his life, on receiving the favour of the lady, and he propounded to her three problems, viz. of making a sack without a seam, of washing it in a well without water, and of hanging it to dry on a tree that never blossomed. In reply, she claimed that he should plough an acre of land with a ram's horn, that he should sow it with a peppercorn, and that he should reap it with a sickle of leather. The problems perhaps had a recondite meaning, and the ballad-monger probably found them ready to hand. For Child cites a version of the ballad in which the same flyting took place between a woman and "the auld, auld man," who threatened to take her as his own, and who turned out to be Death. The idea of a wooer staking his life on winning a lady is less primitive than that of Death securing a victim.
The same tasks without their romantic setting are preserved in the form of a simple dialogue, in the nursery collections of c. 1783 and 1810. In this case also it is the question of a wooer.
On the face of it, it hardly seems likely that this version is descended from the romantic ballad.
The tasks that are here imposed on the man are set also in the form of a boast in a nursery song, in which they have so entirely lost their meaning as to represent a string of impossibilities.
Another nursery piece is recorded by Halliwell which, in simple form relates concerning Billy my son the sequence of events which underlies the famous romantic ballad of Lord Randal.[27] The story is current also in Scotland relating to The Croodin Doo (1870, p. 51); it was told also some eighty years ago in Lincolnshire, of King Henry my son (N. & Q., 8, VI, 427). The romantic ballad in five verses, as told of Lairde Rowlande, relates how he came from the woods weary with hunting and expecting death. He had been at his true love's, where he ate of the food which poisoned his warden and his dogs. In the nursery version the tragedy is told in the following simple form:—
Other nursery pieces deal with Tommy Linn, the Tam Linn of romance, who is the hero of many famous romantic ballads. The name of Tam Linn goes some way back in history. For the Tayl of young Tamlene, according to Vedderburn's Complaint of Scotland, of 1549, was told among a company of shepherds, and the name appears also as that of a dance, A Ballett of Thomalyn, as far back as 1558.[28]
According to the romantic ballads, Tam Linn fell under the influence of the fairies through sleeping under an apple tree, and they threatened to take him back as their own on Hallowe'en, when they rode abroad once in seven years and had the right to claim their due. Tam Linn told the woman who loved him that she must hold him fast, whatever shape he assumed owing to the enchantment of the witches, and that she must cast him into water as soon as he assumed the shape of a gled. He would then be restored to human form.
Tam Linn of romance figures in nursery lore as Tommy Linn. His exploits were printed by Halliwell in one of the numerous versions that are current in the north. In these pieces Tommy Linn has only this in common with Tam Linn of romance, that he too is ready with a suggestion whatever mishap befalls.
Several short nursery rhymes are taken from this, or other versions of this poem. Among the pieces printed by Chambers we read—
Sir Walter Scott in Redgauntlet cites a catch on Sir Thom o' Lyne.
In some nursery collections the adventures of Tommy Lin, the Scotchman, are appropriated to Bryan O'Lin, the Irishman.
Many nursery rhymes which dwell on cats are formed on the model of these verses. A rhyme that comes from America is as follows:—
A modern collection of rhymes (1873, p. 136) gives this as follows:—
The association of cats with Tommy Linn reappears in the rhyme in which Tommy, who in the romantic ballad begged immersion for himself, practised immersion on a cat. Perhaps the cat was figured as a witch, who, being suspected, was cast into the water in order to prove her witchcraft.
Other variations of this rhyme mention Johnny Green (c. 1783, p. 23) and Tommy Quin (Rusher), which, considering the relative antiquity of Tommy Linn, are obvious degradations of this name.
The rhyme in some collections is quoted in an enlarged form:—
I have heard also:—
Stout is perhaps a traditional name. For it occurs in the nursery piece on the old woman who went to sleep out of doors and forgot her identity. I know no earlier version of this piece in English than the one recorded by Rimbault which begins:
It further relates how she went to sleep out of doors, how the man Stout "cut her petticoats round about," and how on waking she did not know herself, and decided to go home and find out if her dog knew her (1864, p. 6). But the story is an old one, for we come across it in Grimm's Fairy Tales, where it forms a sequel to "Kluge Else," (No. 35). In this the part of Stout is taken by the woman's husband, who hung her skirt about with bells, and it is further stated that the woman fell asleep when she was cutting corn. The same story in a more interesting form was recovered in Norway. Here we read that the woman fell asleep while she was cutting hemp, which explains why her mind failed her. For hemp newly cut has strongly narcotic properties. It was probably the herb which the witches smoked in their diminutive clay-pipes in pre-Christian times. Presumably on account of these narcotic properties sowing and cutting of hemp were associated all over Europe with peculiar dances, such as Enfille aiguille, our Thread-the-Needle. Its connection with heathen rites of divination is suggested by the well-known rhyme:—
In this form the rhyme is also cited in Mother Bunch's Closet newly broke open, as a charm to secure the vision of one's future husband.
RHYMES AND COUNTRY DANCES
MANY true nursery rhymes go back to traditional dancing and singing games which are now relegated to the playground, but which were danced by rustics within the memory of man, and which are heirs to the choral dances of our heathen forefathers. For dancing in its origin was no idle and unmeaning pastime. Dances were undertaken for serious purposes, such as warding off evil and promoting agricultural growth, conceptions which hang closely together. These dances formed part of festivities that took place at certain times of the year. They were accompanied by expressive words, and by actions which were suited to the words, and which gave the dance a dramatic character. Our carol is related to the caraula that was prohibited among heathen customs by Bishop Eligius of Noyon (d. 659), in the north of France in the seventh century, and has the same origin as the Choreia of the Greeks, the reihe or reigen of Germany, the karol of Brittany, and the caraula of eastern Switzerland. In course of time the religious significance of the choral dance was lost and its practice survived as a sport. At a later stage still, it became a pastime of children and a diversion of the ballroom.
Among the dances that can be traced back through several stages, is the one which in its latest survival is known as the Cotillon. This is mentioned in England as far back as the year 1766. Burns in Tam o' Shanter speaks of it as "brand new from France." The peculiar features of the Cotillon as it is danced nowadays, include free choice of partners, the women being at liberty in one figure to choose the men, the drawing into the dance of the assembled company, and the presence of a cushion which is put to a variety of uses. The Cotillon usually concludes the ball.
In an earlier form the Cotillon is represented by the dance which was known in the seventeenth century as Joan Saunderson or the Cushion Dance. The way of dancing Joan Saunderson is described in The Dauncing Master, a collection of dances with tunes for young people, published by H. Playford. Of this the first volume was issued in 1650, which was enlarged in subsequent editions, when further volumes were added. The Dauncing Master of Playford shows how traditional country dances were appropriated to the ballroom, for many of these dance tunes, such as Mulberry Bush, and Green Sleeves, correspond with the names of traditional dancing and singing games.
In Joan Saunderson or the Cushion Dance as described by Playford,[29] a cushion and a drinking-horn were brought in by two dancers to the sound of a fiddle. The cushion-bearer locked the door and pocketed the key, and danced round the room alone. Then he exchanged words with the fiddler as to the need of finding a maid and pressing her into the dance. The name Joan Saunderson being proposed, the cushion-bearer placed the cushion before the woman of his choice, and knelt upon it. She did the same, and drank from the horn. They kissed and danced together. The same ceremony was then gone through by the girl, who, when the name John Saunderson was proposed, approached the man of her choice bearing the cushion, the first dancer accompanying her. The ceremony was repeated again and again, alternately by man and woman, and as each dancer chose a partner, the number of those following the cushion-bearer increased. Finally the whole assembled company were drawn into the ring.
A scene in Joan Saunderson is said to be represented in a Dutch engraving of the year 1624 (1876, p. 254). Joan Saunderson is still danced in different parts of the country under the same or some similar name. In Derbyshire it is known as the Cushion Dance, and those who are drawn into the ring are addressed as John Sanders and Jane Sanders. In the Lowlands the dance is known as Babbity Bowster, bowster standing for bolster; in the north it is the Whishin Dance, whishin standing for cushion (1894, I, pp. 9, 87). The Cushion Dance was the last dance that was danced at a wedding,[30] and at Northampton it came at the conclusion of the May-Day festival (1876, p. 253).
In the Cotillon of the ballroom, the ring finally breaks up and the company dances in couples; the Cushion Dance leads up to the withdrawal of the married pair, and concludes with a romp. A later edition of The Dauncing Master (1698, p. 7), perhaps with a view to forestalling this, adds a sequel to the dance, according to which the game, after it had been wound, was unwound, that is, each dancer in turn bade farewell to his partner, and after doing so left the room.
The points of likeness between the Cotillon and the Cushion Dance are such as to favour the belief that they are connected. The free choice of partners, the presence of the cushion, the drawing in of the whole assembled company, and the fact that the dance terminates the ball, are peculiar to them both. The Cushion Dance being the older sport, preserves the association with weddings and with the May-Day festival, which at one time was the occasion for mating and marriage.
The associations with mating and marriage are preserved also in a traditional game that is still played throughout the greater part of England, which is generally known as Sally Waters. The verses recited in playing it render it probable that the Cushion Dance is a later development of the game known as Sally Waters.
In playing Sally Waters the players stand in a ring, a boy and a girl alternately choose a partner and seal the bond by joining hands, or by kneeling, or by a kiss. The verses recited in playing the game were first recorded by Halliwell (1849, p. 133). Forty-nine further variations, used in different parts of the kingdom in playing the game, have been printed by Mrs. Gomme, who classed this among marriage games, (1894, II, 461). In the book of Playford the Cushion Dance is called also Joan Saunderson, and those who are pressed into the dance are designated as Joan Saunderson and John Saunderson, or as Jane Sanders and John Sanders. In playing the game of Sally Waters similar names are used. Thus the children in Penzance stand in a ring and sing the following verse:—