1790-1800
_The Child and his Book at the End of the Century_
Any attempt to trace the slow development of the American child's story
of the nineteenth century must inevitably be made through the
school-books written during the previous one. Before this, English books
had been adapted to the American trade. But now the continued interest
in education produced text-books pervaded with the American spirit. They
cannot, therefore, be ignored as sporadically in the springtime of the
young Republic, they, like crocuses, thrust forward in the different
states their blue and yellow covers.
Next to clergymen, schoolmasters received the veneration of the people,
for learning and godliness went hand in hand. It was the schoolmaster
who reinforced the efforts of the parents to make good Americans of the
young folks, by compiling text-books which outsold the English ones
hitherto used. In the new editions of the old "New England Primer,"
laudatory verse about General Washington replaced the alphabet rhyme:
"Whales in the Sea
God's Voice obey."
Proud parents thereafter heard their infants lisp:
"By Washington
Great deeds were done."
For older pupils Noah Webster's speller almost superseded Dilworth's,
and his "Little Readers' Assistant" became the First Reader of many
children. Webster as schoolmaster in a country district prepared this
book for his own scholars. It was printed in Hartford in seventeen
hundred and ninety, and contained a list of subjects suitable for
farmers' children:
I. A number of Stories mostly taken from the history of
America, and adorned with Cuts.
II. Rudiments of English Grammar.
III. The Federal Catechism, being a short and easy explanation
of the Constitution of the United States.
IV. General principles of Government and Commerce.
V. Farmers' Catechism containing plain rules of husbandry.
Bennington, Vermont, contributed in "The Little Scholar's Pretty Pocket
Companion in Rhyme and Verse," this indirect allusion to political
affairs:
"'Twas a toy of royalty, of late almost forgot,
'Tis said she represented France
On English Monarchies arms,
But lately broke his chains by chance
And widely spread alarms."
But the most naïve attempt to inculcate patriotism together with a
lesson in obedience is found in "The Child's Instructor," published
about seventeen hundred and ninety-one, and written by a Philadelphian.
Philadelphia had become the residence of the President--a fact that may
account for one of the stories in this book about an infant prodigy
called Billy. "The child at five years of age was always good and
obedient, and prone to make such a remark as, 'If you would be wise you
must always attend to your vowels and consonants.' When General
Washington came to town Billy's mama asked him to say a speech to the
ladies, and he began, 'Americans! place constantly before your eyes, the
deplorable scenes of your servitude, and the enchanting picture of your
deliverance. Begin with the infant in his cradle; let the first word he
lisps be _Washington_.' The ladies were all delighted to hear Billy
speak so well. One said he should be a lawyer, and another said he
should be President of the United States. But Billy said he could not be
either unless his mama gave him leave."[123-A]
Another Philadelphian attempted to embody political sentiment in "A
Tale--The Political Balance; or, The Fate of Britain and America
Compared." This juvenile has long since disappeared, but it was
advertised by its printer, Francis Bailey, in seventeen hundred and
ninety-two, together with "The History of the Little Boy found under a
Haycock," and several other books for children. One year later a
"History of the American Revolution" for children was also printed in
Philadelphia for the generation who had been born since the war had
ended. This was written in the Biblical phraseology introduced and made
popular by Franklin in his famous "Parable against Persecution."
This enthusiasm over the results of the late war and scorn for the
defeated English sometimes indeed cropped out in the Newbery reprints.
An edition (1796) of "Goody Two-Shoes" contains this footnote in
reference to the tyranny of the English landlord over Goody's father:
_"Such is the state of things in Britain. AMERICANS prize your liberty,
guard your rights and be happy._"[123-B]
In this last decade of the century that had made a nation of the
colonial commonwealths, the prosperity of the country enabled more
printers to pirate the generally approved Newbery library. Samuel Hall
in Boston, with a shop near the court-house, printed them all, using at
times the dainty covers of flowery Dutch or gilt paper, and again
another style of binding occasionally used in England. "The Death and
Burial of Cock Robin," for instance, has a quaint red and gilt cover,
which according to Mr. Charles Welsh was made by stamping paper with
dies originally used for printing old German playing-cards. He says: "To
find such a cover can only be accounted for by the innocence of the
purchasers as to the appearance of his Satanic Majesty's picture cards
and hence [they] did not recognize them." In one corner of the book
cover is impressed the single word "Münch," which stamps this paper as
"made in Germany." Hall himself was probably as ignorant of the original
purpose of the picture as the unsuspecting purchaser, who would
cheerfully have burned it rather than see such an instrument of the
Devil in the hands of its owner, little Sally Barnes.
[Illustration: Frontispiece.
Sr. Walter Raleigh and his man.]
Of Samuel Hall's reprints from the popular English publications, "Little
Truths" was in all probability one of the most salable. So few books
contained any information about America that one of these two volumes
may be regarded as of particular interest to the young generation of his
time. The author of "Little Truths," William Darton, a Quaker publisher
in London, does not divulge from what source he gleaned his knowledge.
His information concerning Americans is of that misty description
that confuses Indians ("native Americans") with people of Spanish and
English descent. The usual "Introduction" states that "The author has
chose a method after the manner of conversations between children and
their instructor," and the dialogue is indicated by printing the
children's observations in italics. These volumes were issued for twenty
years after they were introduced by Hall, and those of an eighteen
hundred Philadelphia edition are bound separately. Number one is in blue
paper with copper-plate pictures on both covers. This volume gives
information regarding farm produce, live-stock, and about birds quite
unfamiliar to American children. But the second volume, in white covers,
introduces the story of Sir Walter Raleigh and his pipe-smoking
incident, made very realistic in the copper-plate frontispiece. The
children's question, "_Did Sir Walter Raleigh find out the virtues of
tobacco?_" affords an excellent opportunity for a discourse upon smoking
and snuff-taking. These remarks conclude with this prosaic statement:
"Hundreds of sensible people have fell into these customs from example;
and, when they would have left them off, found it a very great
difficulty." Next comes a lesson upon the growth of tobacco leading up
to a short account of the slave-trade, already a subject of differing
opinion in the United States, as well as in England. Of further interest
to small Americans was a short tale of the discovery of this country.
Perhaps to most children their first book-knowledge of this event came
from the pages of "Little Truths."
Hall's books were not all so proper for the amusement of young folks. A
perusal of "Capt. Gulliver's Adventures" leaves one in no doubt as to
the reason that so many of the old-fashioned mothers preferred to keep
such tales out of children's hands, and to read over and over again the
adventures of the Pilgrim, Christian. Mrs. Eliza Drinker of Philadelphia
in seventeen hundred and ninety-six was re-reading for the third time
"Pilgrim's Progress," which she considered a "generally approved book,"
although then "ridiculed by many." The "Legacy to Children" Mrs. Drinker
also read aloud to her grandchildren, having herself "wept over it
between fifty and sixty years ago, as did my grandchildren when it was
read to them. She, Hannah Hill, died in 1714, and ye book was printed in
1714 by Andrew Bradford."
But Mrs. Drinker's grandchildren had another book very different from
the pious sayings of the dying Hannah. This contained "64 little stories
and as many pictures drawn and written by Nancy Skyrin," the mother of
some of the children. P. Widdows had bound the stories in gilt paper,
and it was so prized by the family that the grandmother thought the fact
of the recovery of the book, after it was supposed to have been
irretrievably lost, worthy of an entry in her journal. Careful inquiry
among the descendants of Mrs. Drinker has led to the belief that these
stories were read out of existence many years ago. What they were about
can only be imagined. Perhaps they were incidents in the lives of the
same children who cried over the pathetic morbidity of Hannah's dying
words; or possibly rhymes and verses about school and play hours of
little Philadelphians; with pictures showing bait-the-bear, trap-ball,
and other sports of days long since passed away, as well as "I Spie
Hi" and marbles, familiar still to boys and girls.
[Illustration: _Foot Ball_]
From the fact that these stories were written for the author's own
children, another book, composed less than a century before, is brought
to mind. Comparison of even the meagre description of Mrs. Skyrin's book
with Cotton Mather's professed purpose in "Good Lessons" shows the
stride made in children's literature to be a long one. Yet a quarter of
a century was still to run before any other original writing was done in
America for children's benefit.
Nobody else in America, indeed, seems to have considered the question of
writing for nursery inmates. Mrs. Barbauld's "Easy Lessons for Children
from Two to Five Years old," written for English children, were
considered perfectly adapted to gaining knowledge and perhaps amusement.
It is true that when Benjamin Bache of Philadelphia issued "Easy
Lessons," he added this note: "Some alterations were thought necessary to
be made in this ... American edition, to make it agree with the original
design of rendering instruction easy and useful.... The climate and the
familiar objects of this country suggested these alterations." Except for
the substitution of such words as "Wheat" for "Corn," the intentions of
the editor seem hardly to have had result, except by way of
advertisement; and are of interest merely because they represent one step
further in the direction of Americanizing the story-book literature.
All Mrs. Barbauld's books were considered excellent for young children.
As a "Dissenter," she gained in the esteem of the people of the northern
states, and her books were imported as well as reprinted here. Perhaps
she was best known to our grandparents as the joint author, with Dr.
Aikin, of "Evenings at Home," and of "Hymns in Prose and Verse." Both
were read extensively for fifty years. The "Hymns" had an enormous
circulation, and were often full of fine rhythm and undeserving of the
entire neglect into which they have fallen. Of course, as the fashion
changed in the "approved" type of story, Mrs. Barbauld suffered
criticism. "Mrs. and Miss Edgeworth in their 'Practical Education'
insisted that evil lurked behind the phrase in 'Easy Lessons,' 'Charles
wants his dinner' because of the implication 'that Charles must have
whatever he desires,' and to say 'the sun has gone to bed,' is to incur
the odium of telling the child a falsehood."[128-A]
But the manner in which these critics of Mrs. Barbauld thought they had
improved upon her method of story-telling is a tale belonging to another
chapter. When Miss Edgeworth's wave of popularity reached this country
Mrs. Barbauld's ideas still flourished as very acceptable to parents.
A contemporary and rival writer for the English nursery was Mrs. Sarah
Trimmer. Her works for little children were also credited with much
information they did not give. After the publication of Mrs. Barbauld's
"Easy Lessons" (which was the result of her own teaching of an adopted
child), Mrs. Trimmer's friends urged her to make a like use of the
lessons given to her family of six, and accordingly she published in
seventeen hundred and seventy-eight an "Easy Introduction into the
Knowledge of Nature," and followed it some years after its initial
success by "Fabulous Histories," afterwards known as the "History of
the Robins." Although Mrs. Trimmer represents more nearly than Mrs.
Barbauld the religious emotionalism pervading Sunday-school
libraries,--in which she was deeply interested,--the work of both these
ladies exemplifies the transitional stage to that Labor-in-Play school
of writing which was to invade the American nursery in the next century
when Parley and Abbott throve upon the proceeds of the educational
narrative.
Defoe's "Robinson Crusoe" and Thomas Day's "Sanford and Merton" occupied
the place in the estimation of boys that the doings of Mrs. Barbauld's
and Mrs. Trimmer's works held in the opinion of the younger members of
the nursery. Edition followed upon edition of the adventures of the
famous island hero. In Philadelphia, in seventeen hundred and
ninety-three, William Young issued what purported to be the sixth
edition. In New York many thousands of copies were sold, and in eighteen
hundred and twenty-four we find a Spanish translation attesting its
widespread favor. In seventeen hundred and ninety-four, Isaiah Thomas
placed the surprising adventures of the mariner as on the "Coast of
America, lying near the mouth of the great river Oroonoque."
Parents also thought very highly of Thomas Day's "Children's Miscellany"
and "Sanford and Merton." To read this last book is to believe it to be
possibly in the style that Dr. Samuel Johnson had in mind when he
remarked to Mrs. Piozzi that "the parents buy the books but the children
never read them." Yet the testimony of publishers of the past is that
"Sanford and Merton" had a large and continuous sale for many years.
"'Sanford and Merton,'" writes Mr. Julian Hawthorne, "ran 'Robinson
Crusoe' harder than any other work of the eighteenth century
particularly written for children." "The work," he adds, "is quaint and
interesting rather to the historian than to the general, especially the
child, reader. Children would hardly appreciate so amazingly ancient a
form of conversation as that which resulted from Tommy [the bad boy of
the story] losing a ball and ordering a ragged boy to pick it up:
"'Bring my ball directly!'
"'I don't choose it,' said the boy.
"'Sirrah,' cried Tommy, 'if I come to you I will make you choose it.'
"'Perhaps not, my pretty master,' said the boy.
"'You little rascal,' said Tommy, who now began to be very angry, 'if I
come over the hedge I will thrash you within an inch of your life.'"
The gist of Tommy's threat has often been couched in modern language by
grandsons of the boys from whom the Socratic Mr. Day wrote to expose the
evils of too luxurious an education. His method of compilation of facts
to be taught may best be given in the words of his Preface: "All who
have been conversant in the education of very young children, have
complained of the total want of proper books to be put in their hands,
while they are taught the elements of reading.... The least exceptional
passages of books that I could find for the purpose were 'Plutarch's
Lives' and Xenophon's 'History of the Institution of Cyrus,' in English
translation; with some part of 'Robinson Crusoe,' and a few passages
from Mr. Brooke's 'Fool of Quality.' ... I therefore resolved ... not
only to collect all such stories as I thought adapted to the faculties
of children, but to connect these by continued narration.... As to the
histories themselves, I have used the most unbounded licence.... As to
the language, I have endeavored to throw into it a greater degree of
elegance and ornament than is usually to be met with in such
compositions; preserving at the same time a sufficient degree of
simplicity to make it intelligible to very young children, and rather
choosing to be diffuse than obscure." With these objects in mind, we can
understand small Tommy's embellishment of his demand for the return of
his ball by addressing the ragged urchin as "Sirrah."
Mr. Day's "Children's Miscellany" contained a number of stories, of
which one, "The History of Little Jack," about a lost child who was
adopted by a goat, was popular enough to be afterwards published
separately. It is a debatable question as to whether the parents or the
children figuring in this "Miscellany" were the more artificial. "Proud
and unfeeling girl," says one tender mother to her little daughter who
had bestowed half her pin money upon a poor family,--"proud and
unfeeling girl, to prefer vain and trifling ornaments to the delight of
relieving the sick and miserable! Retire from my presence! Take away
with you trinket and nosegay, and receive from them all the comforts
they are able to bestow!" Why Mr. Day's stories met with such
unqualified praise at the time they were published, this example of
canting rubbish does not reveal. In real life parents certainly did
retain some of their substance for their own pleasure; why, therefore,
discipline a child for following the same inclination?
In contrast to Mr. Day's method, Mrs. Barbauld's plan of simple
conversation in words of one, two, and three syllables seems modern.
Both aimed to afford pleasure to children "learning the elements of
reading." Where Mrs. Barbauld probably judged truly the capacity of
young children in the dialogues with the little Charles of "Easy
Lessons," Mr. Day loaded his gun with flowers of rhetoric and overshot
infant comprehension.
Nevertheless, in spite of the criticism that has waylaid and torn to
tatters Thomas Day's efforts to provide a suitable and edifying variety
of stories, his method still stands for the distinct secularization of
children's literature of amusement. Moreover, as Mr. Montrose J. Moses
writes in his delightful study of "Children's Books and Reading," "he
foreshadowed the method of retelling incidents from the classics and
from standard history and travel,--a form which is practised to a great
extent by our present writers, who thread diverse materials on a slender
wire of subsidiary story, and who, like Butterworth and Knox, invent
untiring families of travellers who go to foreign parts, who see things,
and then talk out loud about them."
Besides tales by English authors, there was a French woman, Madame de
Genlis, whose books many educated people regarded as particularly
suitable for their daughters, both in the original text and in the
English translations. In Aaron Burr's letters we find references to his
interest in the progress made by his little daughter, Theodosia, in her
studies. His zeal in searching for helpful books was typical of the care
many others took to place the best literature within their children's
reach. From Theodosia's own letters to her father we learn that she was
a studious child, who wrote and ciphered from five to eight every
morning and during the same hours every evening. To improve her French,
Mr. Burr took pains to find reading-matter when his law practice
necessitated frequent absence from home. Thus from West Chester, in
seventeen hundred and ninety-six, when Theodosia was nine years old, he
wrote:
I rose up suddenly from the sofa and rubbing my head--"What book
shall I buy for her?" said I to myself. "She reads so much and so
rapidly that it is not easy to find proper and amusing French books
for her; and yet I am so flattered with her progress in that
language, that I am resolved that she shall, at all events, be
gratified." So ... I took my hat and sallied out. It was not my
first attempt. I went into one bookseller's after another. I found
plenty of fairy tales and such nonsense, for the generality of
children of nine or ten years old. "These," said I, "will never do.
Her understanding begins to be above such things." ... I began to be
discouraged. "But I will search a little longer." I persevered. At
last I found it. I found the very thing I sought. It is contained in
two volumes, octavo, handsomely bound, and with prints and reprints.
It is a work of fancy but replete with instruction and amusement. I
must present it with my own hand.
Yr. affectionate
A. BURR.
What speculation there must have been in the Burr family as to the name
of the gift, and what joy when Mr. Burr presented the two volumes upon
his return! From a letter written later by Mr. Burr to his wife, it
appears that he afterward found reason to regret his purchase, which
seems to have been Madame de Genlis's famous "Annales." "Your account,"
he wrote, "of Madame Genlis surprises me, and is new evidence of the
necessity of reading books before we put them in the hands of children."
Opinion differed, of course, concerning the French lady's books. In New
York, in Miss Dodsworth's most genteel and fashionable school, a play
written from "The Dove" by Madame de Genlis was acted with the same zest
by little girls of ten and twelve years of age as they showed in another
play taken from "The Search after Happiness," a drama by the Quakeress
and religious writer, Hannah More. These plays were given at the end of
school terms by fond parents with that appreciation of the histrionic
ability of their daughters still to be seen on such occasions.
No such objection as Mrs. Burr made to this lady's "Annales" was
possible in regard to another French book, by Berquin. Entitled "Ami des
Enfans," it received under the Rev. Mr. Cooper's translation the name
"The Looking Glass for the Mind." This collection of tales supposedly
mirrored the frailties and virtues of rich and poor children. It was
often bound in full calf, and an edition of seventeen hundred and
ninety-four contains a better engraved frontispiece than it was
customary to place in juvenile publications. For half a century it was
to be found in the shop of all booksellers, and had its place in the
library of every family of means. There are still those among us who
have not forgotten the impression produced upon their infant minds by
certain of the tales. Some remember the cruel child and the canary.
Others recollect their admiration of the little maid who, when all
others deserted her young patroness, lying ill with the smallpox, won
the undying gratitude of the mother by her tender nursing. The author,
blind himself to the possibilities of detriment to the sick child by
unskilled care, held up to the view of all, this example of devotion of
one girl in contrast to the hard-heartedness of many others. This book
seems also to have been called by the literal translation of its
original title, "Ami des Enfans;" for in an account of the occupations
of one summer Sunday in seventeen hundred and ninety-seven, Julia
Cowles, living in Litchfield, Connecticut, wrote: "Attended meeting all
day long, but do not recollect the text. Read in 'The Children's
Friend.'" Many children would not have been permitted to read so nearly
secular a book; but evidently Julia Cowles's parents were liberal in
their view of Sunday reading after the family had attended "meeting all
day long."
In addition to the interest of the context of these toy-books of a past
generation, one who handles such relics of a century ago sees much of
the fashions for children of that day. In "The Looking Glass," for
instance, the illustrations copied from engravings by the famous English
artist, Bewick, show that at the end of the eighteenth century children
were still clothed like their elders; the coats and waistcoats, knee
breeches and hats, of boys were patterned after gentlemen's garments,
and the caps and aprons, kerchiefs and gowns, for girls were
reproductions of the mothers' wardrobes.
Again, the fly-leaf of "The History of Master Jacky and Miss Harriot"
arrests the eye by its quaint inscription: "Rozella Ford's Book. For
being the second speller in the second class." At once the imagination
calls up the exercises in a village school at the end of a year's
session: a row of prim little maids and sturdy boys, standing before the
school dame and by turn spelling in shrill tones words of three to five
syllables, until only two, Rozella and a better speller, remain
unconfused by Dilworth's and Webster's word mysteries. Then the two
children step forward with bow and curtsey to receive their tiny gilt
prizes from a pile of duodecimos upon the teacher's desk. Indeed, the
giving of rewards was carried to such an extent as to become a great
drain upon the meagre stipend of the teacher. Thus when in copper-plate
handwriting we find in another six-penny volume the inscription:
"Benjamin H. Bailey, from one he esteems and loves, Mr. Hapgood," we
read between its lines the self-denial practised by Mr. Hapgood, who
possibly received, like many other teachers, but seventy-five cents a
week besides his board and lodging.
Other books afford a glimpse of children's life: the formal every-day
routine, the plays they enjoyed, and their demonstration of a
sensibility as keen as was then in fashion for adults. The "History of a
Doll," lying upon the writer's table, is among the best in this respect.
It was evidently much read by its owner and fairly "loved to pieces."
When it reached this disintegrated stage, a careful mother, or aunt,
sewed it with coarse flax thread inside a home-made cover of bright blue
wall-paper. Although the "History of the Pedigree and Rise of the Pretty
Doll" bears no date, its companion story in the wall-paper wrapper has
the imprint seventeen hundred and ninety-one, and this, together with
the press-work, places it as belonging to the eighteenth century. It
offers to the reader a charming insight into the formality of many an
old-fashioned family: the deportment stiff with the starched customs of
that day, the seriousness of their fun, and the sensibility among little
maidens akin to that exhibited in the heroines of fiction created by
Richardson and Fielding.
The chapter concerning "The Pedigree of the Doll" treats of finding a
branch of a tree by a carver, who was desired by Sir John Amiable to
make one of the best dolls in his power for his "pretty little daughter
who was as good as she was pretty." The carver accordingly took the
branch and began carving out the head, shoulders, body, and legs, which
he soon brought to their proper shape. "He then covered it with a fine,
flesh-colored enamel and painted its cheeks in the most lively manner.
It had the finest black and sparkling eyes that were ever beheld; its
cheeks resembled the blushing rose, its neck the lilly, and its lips the
coral." The doll is presented, and the next chapter tells of "an
assembly of little female gossips in full debate on the clothing of the
doll." "Miss Polly having made her papa a vast number of courtesies for
it, prevailed on her brother to go round to all the little gossips in
the neighborhood, begging their company to tea in the afternoon, in
order to consult in what mode the doll should be dressed." The company
assembled. "Miss Micklin undertook to make it a fine ruffled laced
shift, Miss Mantua to make it a silk sacque and petticoat; and in short,
every one contributed, in some measure, to dress out this beautiful
creature."
"Everything went on with great harmony till they came to the head-dress
of the doll; and here they differed so much in opinion, that all their
little clappers were going at once.... Luckily, at this instant Mrs.
Amiable happened to come in, and soon brought the little gossips to
order. The matter in dispute was, whether it should have a high
head-dress or whether the hair should come down on the forehead, and the
curls flow in natural ringlets on the shoulders. However, after some
pretty warm debate, this last mode was adopted, as most proper for a
little miss." In chapter third "The doll is named:--Accidents attend the
Ceremony." Here we have a picture of a children's party. "The young
ladies and gentlemen were entertained with tea and coffee; and when that
was over, each was presented with a glass of raisin wine." During the
christening ceremony an accident happened to the doll, because Master
Tommy, the parson, "in endeavouring to get rid of it before the little
gossips were ready to receive it, made a sad blunder.... Miss Polly,
with tears in her eyes, snatched up the doll and clasped it to her
bosom; while the rest of the little gossips turned all the little
masters out of the room, that they might be left to themselves to
inquire more privately into what injuries the dear doll had received....
Amidst these alarming considerations Tommy Amiable sent the ladies word,
that, if they would permit him and the rest of the young gentlemen to
pass the evening among them in the parlour, he would engage to replace
the nose of the doll in such a manner that not the appearance of the
late accident should be seen." Permission was accordingly granted for a
surgical operation upon the nose, but "as to the fracture in one of the
doll's legs, it was never certainly known how that was remedied, as the
young ladies thought it very indelicate to mention anything about the
matter." The misadventures of the doll include its theft by a monkey in
the West Indies, and at this interesting point the only available copy
of the tale is cut short by the loss of the last four pages. The charm
of this book lies largely in the fact that the owner of the doll does
not grow up and marry as in almost every other novelette. This
difference, of course, prevents the story from being a typical one of
its period, but it is, nevertheless, a worthy forerunner of those tales
of the nineteenth century in which an effort was made to write about
incidents in a child's life, and to avoid the biographical tendency.
Before leaving the books of the eighteenth century, one tale must be
mentioned because it contains the germ of the idea which has developed
into Mr. George's "Junior Republic." It was called "Juvenile Trials for
Robbing Orchards, Telling Tales and other Heinous Offenses." "This,"
said Dr. Aikin--Mrs. Barbauld's brother and collaborator in "Evenings at
Home"--"is a very pleasing and ingenious little Work, in which a Court
of Justice is supposed to be instituted in a school, composed of the
Scholars themselves, for the purpose of trying offenses committed at
School." In "Trial the First" Master Tommy Tell-Truth charges Billy
Prattle with robbing an orchard. The jury, after hearing Billy express
his contrition for his act, brings in a verdict of guilty; but the judge
pardons the culprit because of his repentant frame of mind. Miss Delia,
the offender in case _Number Two_, does not escape so lightly. Miss
Stirling charges her with raising contention and strife among her
school-fellows over a piece of angelica, "whereby," say her prosecutors,
"one had her favorite cap torn to pieces, and her hair which had been
that day nicely dressed, pulled all about her shoulders; another had her
sack torn down the middle; a third had a fine flowered apron of her own
working, reduced to rags; a fourth was wounded by a pelick, or scratch
of her antagonist, and in short, there was hardly one among them who had
not some mark to shew of having been concerned in this unfortunate
affair." That the good Dr. Aikin approved of the punishment decreed, we
are sure. The little prisoner was condemned to pass three days in her
room, as just penalty for such "indelicate" behaviour.
By the close of the century Miss Edgeworth was beginning to supersede
Mrs. Barbauld in England; but in America the taste in juvenile reading
was still satisfied with the older writer's little Charles, as the
correct model for children's deportment, and with Giles Gingerbread as
the exemplary student. The child's lessons had passed from "Be good or
you will go to Hell" to "Be good and you will be rich;" or, with the
Puritan element still so largely predominant, "Be good and you will go
to Heaven." Virtue as an ethical quality had been shown in "Goody
Two-Shoes" to bring its reward as surely as vice brought punishment. It
is to be doubted if this was altogether wholesome; and it may well be
that it was with this idea in mind that Dr. Johnson made his celebrated
criticism of the nursery literature in vogue, when he said to Mrs.
Piozzi, "Babies do not want to be told about babies; they like to be
told of giants and castles, and of somewhat which can stretch and
stimulate their little minds."[141-A]
The learned Doctor, having himself been brought up on "Jack the Giant
Killer" and "The History of Blue Beard," was inclined to scorn Newbery's
tales as lacking in imaginative quality. That Dr. Johnson was really
interested in stories for the young people of his time is attested by a
note written in seventeen hundred and sixty-three on the fly-leaf of a
collection of chap-books: "I shall certainly, sometime or other, write a
little Story-Book in the style of these. I shall be happy to succeed,
for he who pleases children will be remembered by them."[141-B]
In America, however, it is doubtful whether any true critical spirit
regarding children's books had been reached. Fortunately in England, at
the beginning of the next century, there was a man who dared speak his
opinion. Mrs. Barbauld and Mrs. Trimmer (who had contributed "Fabulous
Histories" to the juvenile library, and for them had shared the approval
which greeted Mrs. Barbauld's efforts) were the objects of Charles
Lamb's particular detestation. In a letter to Coleridge, written in
1802, he said:
"Goody Two Shoes is almost out of print. Mrs. Barbauld's stuff has
banished all the old classics of the nursery, and the shopman at
Newbery's hardly deigned to reach them off an old exploded corner of a
shelf, when Mary asked for them. Mrs. Barbauld's and Mrs. Trimmer's
nonsense lay in piles about. Knowledge insignificant and vapid as Mrs.
Barbauld's books convey, it seems, must come to a child in the shape of
knowledge; and his empty noddle must be turned with conceit of his own
powers when he has learned that a horse is an animal and Billy is better
than a horse, and such like, instead of that beautiful interest in wild
tales, which made the child a man, while all the time he suspected
himself to be no bigger than a child. Science has succeeded to poetry no
less in the little walks of children than of men. Is there no
possibility of arresting this force of evil? Think what you would have
been now, if instead of being fed with tales and old wives' fables in
childhood, you had been crammed with geography and natural history. Hang
them! I mean the cursed Barbauld crew, those blights and blasts of all
that is human in man and child."[142-A]
To Lamb's extremely sensitive nature, the vanished hand of the literary
man of Grub Street could not be replaced by Mrs. Barbauld's wish to
instruct by using simple language. It is possible that he did her some
injustice. Yet a retrospective glance over the story-book literature
evolved since Newbery's juvenile library was produced, shows little that
was not poor in quality and untrue to life. Therefore, it is no wonder
that Lamb should have cried out against the sore evil which had "beset a
child's mind." All the poetry of life, all the imaginative powers of a
child, Mrs. Barbauld, Mrs. Trimmer, and Mr. Day ignored; and Newbery in
his way, and the old ballads in their way, had appealed to both.
In both countries the passion for knowledge resulted in this curious
literature of amusement. In England books were written; in America they
were reprinted, until a religious revival left in its wake the series
of morbid and educational tales which the desire to write original
stories for American children produced.
FOOTNOTES:
[123-A] Miss Hewins, _Atlantic Monthly_, vol. lxi, p. 112.
[123-B] Brynberg. Wilmington, 1796.
[128-A] Miss Repplier, _Atlantic Monthly_, vol. lvii, p. 509.
[141-A] Hill, _Johnsonian Miscellany_, vol. i, p. 157.
[141-B] _Ibid._
[142-A] Welsh, _Introduction to Goody Two Shoes_, p. x.