This was introduced quite irrelevantly in the preface to “Mother Goose’s Melodies,” but with the apology that it was a favorite with the editor. There is also the often quoted remark of Miss Hawkins as confirming Goldsmith’s editorship: “I little thought what I should have to boast, when Goldsmith taught me to play Jack and Jill, by two bits of paper on his fingers.” But neither of these statements seems to have more weight in solving the mystery of the editor’s name than the evidence of the whimsically satirical notes themselves. How like the author of the “Vicar of Wakefield” and the children’s “Fables in Verse” is this remark underneath:

And is not this also a good-natured imitation of that kind of seriously intended information which Mr. Edgeworth inserted some thirty years later in “Harry and Lucy:” “Dry, what is not wet”? Again this note is appended to

“It is a mean and scandalous Practise in Authors to put Notes to Things that deserve no Notice.” Who except Goldsmith was capable of this vein of humor?

When Munroe and Francis in Boston undertook about eighteen hundred and twenty-four to republish these old-fashioned rhymes, in the practice of the current theory that everything must be simplified, they omitted all these notes and changed many of the “Melodies.” Sir Walter Scott’s “Donnel Dhu” was included, and the beautiful Shakespeare selections, “When Daffodils begin to ’pear,” “When the Bee sucks,” etc., were omitted. Doubtless the American editors thought that they had vastly improved upon the Newbery publication in every word changed and every line omitted. In reality, they deprived the nursery of much that might well have remained as it was, although certain expressions were very properly altered. In a negative manner they did one surprising and fortunate thing: in leaving out the amusing notes they did not attempt to replace them, and consequently the nursery had one book free from that advice and precept, which in other verse for children resulted in persistent nagging. The illustrations were entirely redrawn, and Abel Bowen and Nathaniel Dearborn were asked to do the engraving for this Americanized edition.

Of the poetry written in America for children before eighteen hundred and forty there is little that need be said. Much of it was entirely religious in character and most of it was colorless and dreary stuff. The “Child’s Gem” of eighteen hundred and thirty-eight, considered a treasury of precious verse by one reviewer, and issued in embossed morocco binding, was characteristic of many contemporary poems, in which nature was forced to exude precepts of virtue and industry. The following stanzas are no exception to the general tone of the contents of practically every book entitled “Poetry for Children:”

The change in the character of the children’s books written by Americans had begun to be seriously noticed in England. Although there were still many importations (such as the series written by Mrs. Sherwood), there was some inclination to resent the stocking of American booksellers’ shelves by the work of local talent, much to the detriment of English publishers’ pockets. The literary critics took up the subject, and thought themselves justified in disparaging many of the American books which found also ready sale on English book-counters. The religious books underwent scathing criticism, possibly not undeserved, except that the English productions of the same order and time make it now appear that it was but the pot calling the kettle black. Almost as much fault was found with the story-books. It apparently mattered little that the tables were now turned and British publishers were pirating American tales as freely and successfully as Thomas and Philadelphia printers had in former years made use of Newbery’s, and Darton and Harvey’s, juvenile novelties in book ware.

In the “Quarterly Review” of 1843, in an article entitled “Books for Children,” the writer found much cause for complaint in regard to stories then all too conspicuous in bookshops in England. “The same egregious mistakes,” said the critic, “as to the nature of a child’s understanding—the same explanations, which are all but indelicate, and always profane—seem to pervade all these American mentors; and of a number by Peter Parley, Abbott, Todd, &c., it matters little which we take up.” “Under the name of Peter Parley,” continued the disgruntled gentleman, after finding only malicious evil in poor Mr. Todd’s efforts to explain religious doctrines, “such a number of juvenile school-books are current—some greatly altered from the originals and many more by adopters of Mr. Goodrich’s pseudonym—that it becomes difficult to measure the merits or demerits of the said magnus parens, Goodrich.” Liberal quotations followed from “Peter Parley’s Farewell,” which was censured as palling to the mind of those familiar with the English sources from which the facts had been irreverently culled.

The reviewer then passed on to another section of “American abominations” which “seem to have some claim to popularity since they are easily sold.” “These,” continued the anonymous critic, “are works not of amusement—those we shall touch upon later—but of that half-and-half description where instruction blows with a side wind.... Accordingly after impatient investigation of an immense number of little tomes, we are come to the conclusion that they may be briefly classified—firstly, as containing such information as any child in average life who can speak plainly is likely to be possessed of; and secondly, such as when acquired is not worth having.”

To this second class of book the Reverend Mr. Abbott’s “Rollo Books” were unhesitatingly consigned. They were regarded as curiosities for “mere occupation of the eye, and utter stagnation of the thoughts, full of empty minutiae with all the rules of common sense set aside.”

Next the writer considered the style of those Americans who persuaded shillings from English pockets by “ingeniously contrived series which rendered the purchase of a single volume by no means so recommendable as that of all.” The “uncouth phraseology, crack-jack words, and puritan derived words are nationalized and therefore do not permit cavilling,” continued the reviewer, dismayed and disgusted that it was necessary to warn his public, “but their children never did, or perhaps never will, hear any other language; and it is to be hoped they understand it. At all events, we have nothing to do but keep ours from it, believing firmly that early familiarity with refined and beautiful forms ... is one of the greatest safeguards against evil, if not necessary to good.”

However, the critic did not close his article without a good word for those ladies in whose books we ourselves have found merit. “Their works of amusement” he considered admirable, “when not laden with more religion than the tale can hold in solution. Miss Sedgwick takes a high place for powers of description and traits of nature, though her language is so studded with Americanisms as much to mar the pleasure and perplex the mind of an English reader. Besides this lady, Mrs. Sigourney and Mrs. Seba Smith may be mentioned. The former, especially, to all other gifts adds a refinement, and nationality of subject, with a knowledge of life, which some of her poetical pieces led us to expect. Indeed the little Americans have little occasion to go begging to the history or tradition of other nations for topics of interest.”

The “Westminster Review” of eighteen hundred and forty was also in doubt “whether all this Americanism [such as Parley’s ‘Tales’ contained] is desirable for English children, were it,” writes the critic, “only for them we keep the ‘pure well of English undefiled,’ and cannot at all admire the improvements which it pleases that go-ahead nation to claim the right of making in our common tongue: unwisely enough as regards themselves, we think, for one of the elements in the power of a nation is the wide spread of its language.”

This same criticism was made again and again about the style of American writers for adults, so that it is little wonder the children’s books received no unqualified praise. But Americanisms were not the worst feature of the “inundation of American children’s books,” which because of their novelty threatened to swamp the “higher class” English. They were feared because of the “multitude of false notions likely to be derived from them, the more so as the similarity of name and language prevents children from being on their guard, and from remembering that the representations that they read are by foreigners.” It was the American view of English institutions (presented in story-book form) which rankled in the British breast as a “condescending tenderness of the free nation towards the monarchical régime” from which at any cost the English child must be guarded. In this respect Peter Parley was the worst offender, and was regarded as “a sad purveyor of slip-slop, and no matter how amusing, ignorant of his subject.” That gentleman, meanwhile, read the criticisms and went on making “bread and butter,” while he scowled at the English across the water, who criticised, but pirated as fast as he published in America.

Gentle Miss Eliza Leslie received altogether different treatment in this review of American juvenile literature. She was considered “good everywhere, and particularly so for the meridian in which her tales were placed;” and we quite agree with the reviewer who considered it well worth while to quote long paragraphs from her “Tell Tale” to show its character and “truly useful lesson.” “To America,” continued this writer, “we also owe a host of little books, that bring together the literature of childhood and the people; as ‘Home,’ ‘Live and Let Live’ [by Miss Sedgwick], &c., but excellent in intention as they are, we have our doubts, as to the general reception they will meet in this country while so much of more exciting and elegant food is at hand.” Even if the food of amusement in England appeared to the British mind more spiced and more elegant, neither Miss Leslie’s nor Miss Sedgwick’s fictitious children were ever anaemic puppets without wills of their own,—a type made familiar by Miss Edgeworth and persisted in by her admirers and successors,—but vitalized little creatures, who acted to some degree, at least, like the average child who loved their histories and named her dolls after favorite characters.

To-day these English criticisms are only of value as showing that the American story-book was no longer imitating the English tale, but was developing, by reason of the impress of differing social forces, a new type. Its faults do not prevent us from seeing that the spirit expressed in this juvenile literature is that of a new nation feeling its own way, and making known its purpose in its own manner. While we smile at sedulous endeavors of the serious-minded writers to present their convictions, educational, religious, or moral, in palatable form, and to consider children always as a race apart, whose natural actions were invariably sinful, we still read between the lines that these writers were really interested in the welfare of the American child; and that they were working according to the accepted theories of the third decade of the nineteenth century as to the constituents of a juvenile library which, while “judicious and attractive, should also blend instruction with innocent amusement.”

And now as we have reached the point in the history of the American story-book when it is popular at least in both English-speaking countries, if not altogether satisfactory to either, what can be said of the value of this juvenile literature of amusement which has developed on the tiny pages of well-worn volumes? If, of all the books written for children by Americans seventy-five years and more ago, only Nathaniel Hawthorne’s “Wonder Book” has survived to the present generation; of all the verse produced, only the simple rhyme, “Mary had a Little Lamb,” and Clement Moore’s “The Night before Christmas” are still quoted, has their history any value to-day?

If we consider that there is nothing more rare in the fiction of any nation than the popular child’s story that endures; nothing more unusual than the successful well-written juvenile tale, we can perhaps find a value not to be reckoned by the survival or literary character of these old-fashioned books, but in their silent testimony to the influence of the progress of social forces at work even upon so small a thing as a child’s toy-book. The successful well-written child’s book has been rare, because it has been too often the object rather than the manner of writing that has been considered of importance; because it has been the aim of all writers either to “improve in goodness” the young reader, as when, two hundred years ago, Cotton Mather penned “Good Lessons” for his infant son to learn at school, or, to quote the editor of “Affection’s Gift” (published a century and a quarter later), it has been for the purpose of “imparting moral precepts and elevated sentiments, of uniting instruction and amusement, through the fascinating mediums of interesting narrative and harmony of numbers.”

The result of both intentions has been a collection of dingy or faded duodecimos containing a series of impressions of what each generation thought good, religiously, morally, and educationally, for little folk. If few of them shed any light upon child nature in those long-ago days, many throw shafts of illumination upon the change and progress in American ideals and thought concerning the welfare of children. As has already been said, the press supplied what the public taste demanded, and if the writers produced for earlier generations of children what may now be considered lumber, the press of more modern date has not progressed so far in this field of literature as to make it in any degree certain that our children’s treasures may not be consigned to an equal oblivion. For these too are but composites made by superimposing the latest fads or theories as to instructive amusement of children upon those of previous generations of toy-books. Most of what was once considered the “perfume of youth and freshness” in a literary way has been discarded as dry and unprofitable, mistaken or deceptive; and yet, after all has been said by way of criticism of methods and subjects, these chap-books, magazines, gift and story books form our best if blurred pictures of the amusements and daily life of the old-time American child.

We are learning also to prize these small “Histories” as part of the progress of the arts of book-making and illustration, and of the growth of the business of publishing in America; and already we are aware of the fulfilment of what was called by one old bookseller, “Tom Thumb’s Maxim in Trade and Politics:” “He who buys this book for Two-pence, and lays it up till it is worth Three-pence, may get an hundred per cent by the bargain.”

Index

INDEX