Nursery

Cultivated plants and human babies both require great care at their earliest stages – which is why the word “nursery” can apply to the facilities provided to either form of early life. But, when it comes to literature, it is our species whose nurseries have produced by far the more celebrated rhymes. And when several children are in the care of one woman, she is, or at least was, generally known as “Nurse.”

One of my own favorite nursery rhymes says:

“Hey diddle diddle, The Cat and the fiddle,
The Cow jumped over the Moon,
The little Dog laughed to see such fun,
And the Dish ran away with the Spoon.”

Here, in just few words, we have a musical Cat, a jumping Cow, a laughing Dog, and some amorous Kitchenware. And notice that each is distinguished as being not just one of its kind. So, it is not simply “a” cat or “a” cow, who do these amazing things, but it is “The” Cat and “The” Cow.

So much going on, and such talented creatures! But a very different situation, and a much more moralistic message, is conveyed in the Rhyme about “Georgie Porgie Pudd’nie Pie,” who not only “kissed the girls,” but “made them cry.” Georgie, though, is about to get his comeuppance. Because “When the boys came out to play, Georgie Porgie ran away.” But There is something sinister about this whole narrative: What did he do that made the girls cry? Why was he so afraid to be confronted by the boys? Why is so much left to the reader’s imagination?

But this literary genre seems to be particularly fond of unpleasant situations. Where else would we immediately look for Bridges Falling Down, Houses demolished by wind, fire, and flood, people being frightened by harmless spiders, birds entrapped in pie, or (in the days long before plastic surgery) having one’s nose pecked off in vengeance by such critters?

This mystery brings us to another: the strange story of Jack and Jill. Why would they be going up the hill for water, when everyone knows (or should know) that water is far more likely to be found at the bottom of a hill? But they are punished for their stupidity by both suffering a disastrous fall on the way down. 

Yet one more puzzling narrative is the one which celebrates the black sheep, and its supposedly black wool. In the rhyme, that wool is apparently as precious as any provided by a white sheep. Yet anybody referred to today as being “the black sheep” of their family is stigmatized as unacceptable by the other family members.

And not only sheep, but, again, black birds have a questionable reputation – since long before Edgar Allan Poe made a Raven the villain of his most celebrated poem. Why else would 24 of them be baked into a pie? It’s hardly surprising that, when released, they burst into an exultant song. (They must have had special training, since the ones I hear in my neighborhood can apparently produce nothing more musical than a monotonous “CAW.”) 

That same Rhyme gives an interesting view of Royalty enjoying a life of luxury. The King, apparently, has little to do but count his money in his own counting-house, while the Queen’s preoccupation is little more demanding than to sit in her parlor and eat bread and honey. But the black birds get their revenge, if only on a poor Maid of the Royal Household. While she is in the garden, hanging out the clothes, along comes a Blackbird, who pecks off her nose!

It’s not only in standard children’s verse that we find what would normally be considered horrifying plights. One of the worst – incredible as it seems – is depicted in what is possibly our culture’s best-loved lullaby, “Rock a Bye Baby.”

We are not told the particular species of tree, or how this whole bizarre situation came about – but somehow a baby, in its cradle, has been placed at the very top of a tree. Obviously, this is a very precarious position, and the tree’s branches are subject to breaking in a strong wind. The song says nothing to reassure us. To the contrary, it seems to celebrate the possibility of such a disaster occurring, with the baby, still in its cradle, plunging to the ground – where we leave it. We can only hope that this particular fall ended up being one of those miraculous survival stories.