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:—
[Pg 210] 1. Who did kill Cock Robbin?
I said the sparrow, with my bow and arrow,
And I did kill Cock Robbin.
2. Who did see him die?
I said the fly, with my little eye,
And I did see him die.
3. And who did catch his blood?
I said the fish, with my little dish,
And I did catch his blood.