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Pop Goes
the Weasel by Albert Jack
August 5th 2008
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Little Jack Horner
Little Jack Horner
Sat in a corner
Eating a Christmas pie
He put in his thumb
And pulled out a plum
And said, 'What a good boy am I'
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Before
the Dissolution of the Monasteries in 1536 there were more
than eight hundred religious foundations in England with over
16,000 monks and nuns. During the following five years, they
were all seized by the Crown and their land and buildings
were either sold off or gifted to supporters of the king.
One of the last to go was the ancient Benedictine abbey of
Glastonbury and the tale of its own dissolution is said to
supply the origin of this rhyme. The Abbot of Glastonbury
at the time was Richard Whyting, a rich and powerful figure
who had been a signatory to the First Act of Supremacy (1534)
granting King Henry VIII the legal authority as head of the
Church of England.
This was
an outright rejection of the power of Catholicism and allowed
the king to divorce and marry again (see also THREE BLIND
MICE). Despite choosing the king over the Pope, a basic requirement
for keeping one's head in sixteenth-century England, Whyting
resisted the dissolution of Glastonbury Abbey for as long
as possible.
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It wasn't just that it was one of the wealthiest in the kingdom, it
was also a place of huge religious significance. The abbey was allegedly
founded by Jesus's Joseph of Arimathea - the man who donated his tomb
for the burial of Christ's body after the Crucifixion - to house the
Holy Grail. Joseph is said to have arrived by boat over the flooded
Somerset Levels; disembarking at Glastonbury Tor, he stuck his staff
into the ground, which flowered miraculously into the Holy Thorn (legend
has it that the tree still bursts into blossom every year on Christmas
Day). The colourful story was widely believed, Elizabeth I using it
as evidence that Christianity in England pre-dated the introduction
of Roman Catholicism, thus legitimizing her role as Defender of the
Faith.
Whyting chose to placate, some might say bribe, the king. He sent
his steward, Thomas Horner, to Hampton Court with the deeds to twelve
manor houses, concealed beneath the crust of a large pie, posing as
a gift. In those days, during property transactions, it was not uncommon
for the deeds to be hidden or concealed in transit to ensure they
would not fall into the wrong hands, as the actual holder of the deeds
was deemed the rightful owner. On the way, legend has it, Thomas Horner
delved into the pie and pulled out the deed for a plum piece of real
estate, Mells Manor House in the village of Mells, Somerset. And that,
apparently, is all he needed to do to become the new lord of that
manor.
But the bribe failed and in January 1539 Henry's chief minister, Thomas
Cromwell, sent his royal commissioners to Glastonbury to see for themselves
what was actually going on down in darkest Somerset. As a result of
what they found, Whyting was sent to the Tower of London so that Cromwell
could question the abbot in person, and from there he was returned
to Glastonbury on 14 November 1539. The following day he was tried
for treason, with Thomas Horner as one of the jurors, and found guilty
within only a few hours.
That afternoon, Richard Whyting and two of his senior monks, Roger
James and John Thorne, were dragged by horses to the top of Glastonbury
Tor, where they were hanged, drawn and quartered. Abbot Whyting's
head was then displayed above the gates of the deserted abbey as a
reminder to others to obey the king without question. Meanwhile Thomas
Horner was presumably busy making his removal arrangements.
Unsurprisingly, the descendants of Thomas Horner, who still live at
Mells Manor, dismiss the legend as 'pure fantasy made up by the Victorians'.
Jack's honesty, it is claimed, is supported by John Leland's Itinerary
(1540-46), a study of ancient buildings and monuments presented to
Henry in 1549 that states: 'Mr. Horner hath boute [bought] the lordship
of the King.' An alternative account suggests that the king gifted
the manor to Horner and that the original title deed, bearing the
royal seal, survives in the family's possession to this day.
Note: During the 1500s, the slang term for £1,000 was 'plum', just
as in modern terms a 'score' is £20 and a 'monkey' £500. Back in the
sixteenth century, £1,000 was a seriously large sum of money, as well
as being the fixed amount some politicians received for taking on
certain government roles. This was considered by the average person
as a vast sum of money for doing very little, and that is why these
posts became known as 'plum jobs' or 'plum roles'. The expression
'plum' has been used ever since to describe anything of great value
that is usually gifted rather than earned. |
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