Chapter IX: The Old-Fashioned Garden of Verses

_The Spectator_ on Gardens—“Cones, Globes, and Pyramids”—Good
counsels in rhyme—Verse in the Schoolroom—Didactic rhymes—Dr.
Watts’s _Divine and Moral Songs_—_Puerilia; or, Amusements
for the Young; Gammer Gurton’s Garland_ and _Songs for the
Nursery_—The Sublime Truant—Rules and prescriptions—_Original
Poems for Infant Minds_—The old garden and the new—Jane
Taylor’s verses—_Poetry for Children_, by Charles and Mary
Lamb—_The Butterfly’s Ball_ and other festivals—Miss Turner’s
cautionary rhymes—“Edward, or Rambling Reasoned on”—The triumph
of nonsense and rhythm.

“I think there are as many Kinds of Gardening as of Poetry”, wrote the Spectator. His own garden ran into the “beautiful Wildness of Nature”; he valued it more for being full of blackbirds than of cherries, and very frankly gave them fruit for their songs.[172]

Nature, regarded as a landscape gardener of more than ordinary skill, was even allowed to work under authority in the domain of poetry; but she neglected one corner of it, and there the trees were still clipped after the old fashion into “Cones, Globes, and Pyramids.” This little fenced-off portion was the eighteenth century Child’s Garden of Verses. The only way out of it was by a narrow gate in the midst of a Yew hedge, and of this only good nurses kept the key.

In the lane outside, the pedlar hawked his wares; the old ballads could still be heard, the seven lamps of enchantment burnt bright at nightfall.

But inside the garden there were curious knots, with flowers of the older sort and fragrant herbs. As time went on, some of the trees were allowed to grow as they would; the open country could be seen through gaps in the hedge, and the children began to make friends with travellers upon the road.

Good counsels had run into rhyme from the beginning, that they might hang together among wandering thoughts. Thus might the _Whole Duty of a Child_ be remembered.[173] It gave, in short couplets, without figure, all the matter of later exemplary and cautionary verse; and since the lines were spoken in the person of the counsellor, there was a certain dramatic interest added; for he that repeated the lines assumed the part of Monitor.

This is one of the secrets of a child’s pleasure in didactic rhymes. School, dull enough in itself, becomes a live thing the moment it passes into the world of make-believe, and words of caution and authority are a delight when spoken in character.

Pedagogues and guardians of youth discovered in rhythm and rhyme a means of teaching facts otherwise unrelated. Emblem writers, feeling the weakness of their strained symbolism, clutched eagerly at an effectual prop. Emblems without verses had some measure of attraction, for if no natural correspondence seemed to exist between a hypocrite and a frog, or between an egg and a Christian,[174] the things had an interest of their own, and excited curiosity as to possible connections; but without rhymes, it would have been impossible to pair them aright.

Verse, brought as an accessory into school, twinkled a small mirror of imagination. Figures lurked in the letters of the alphabet; rhymed riddles were to be had for the piecing together of syllables. _A Little Book for Little Children_ (1702)[175] had these elements of interest; _The Child’s Week’s Work_[176] was further lightened by a wide uncurtained schoolroom window, set so low that very small persons could stand a-tiptoe, and get new lessons from the creatures of earth and air. The very moderation of the writer invites acceptance:

“Come, take this Book
Dear Child, and look
On it awhile and try
What you can find
To please your Mind;
_The Rest you may pass by_.”

But most of it is too good to pass by; the moral is lost in little phrases of real music, albeit the rhymer ties himself to words of one syllable:

“Birds in the Spring
Do chirp and sing
With clear, shrill and sweet Throats;
Some hop, some fly,
Some soar on high,
Each of them knows its Notes.

“Hear you a Lark?
Tell me what Clerk
Can match her; he that beats
The next Thorn-Bush
May raise a Thrush
Would put down all our Wayts.”

Other “clerks” were appointed henceforth to the business of instruction. Rhymed sermons grew up in the midst of hymns of praise; these were marked by a forcible and rousing emphasis. If the voice of the Pharisee be heard no less distinctly than that of the Sluggard, in Dr. Watts’s Divine and Moral Songs[177], it rises at times into something like a glow of patriotism:

“I would not change my Native Land
For rich Peru with all her Gold;
A nobler Prize lies in my Hand
Than East or Western Indies hold.”

Beneath the severity which his doctrine inspired, the learned Doctor had a genuine tenderness for children, a legacy not despised by the greatest and most revolutionary of his successors, William Blake. His Cradle Hymn, beginning:

“Hush! my dear, lie still and slumber;
Holy Angels guard thy bed;”

is remembered the better for Blake’s Cradle Song. In the old conventional but rhythmic fashion, he too could sing of lambs and children.

There is no answer to strictures on the more common errors of the nursery; they are so obvious that admiration halts before the power of rhythm that could give them life. Here and there comes a thought fresh turned:

“How proud we are, how fond to shew
Our Clothes, and call them rich and new!
When the poor Sheep and Silkworm wore
That very Clothing long before.”

The old indiscriminate approval that gave Dr. Watts a place of honour on the nursery shelf, started the echoes along two centuries. Critics could neither silence the triumphant march of the verse nor dispute a ring of sincerity that it has.

Few poets of the old-fashioned Child’s Garden failed in loyalty to its first planter; but editors made Lilliputian anthologies and filled “Poetical Flower Baskets” from other sources. Early in the new century, the author of _The Butterfly’s Ball_ fell by his frivolous choice from the company of the elect:

“The Butterfly, an idle thing,
Nor honey makes, nor yet can sing.”[178]

He encouraged a spirit of revolt, and talking beasts of divers kinds broke into the garden.

Of the old order, John Marchant was welcome, despite his lack of originality, for a trick of rhythm which he had learnt from Dr. Watts, and apart from this, as a champion of children’s games. He had “Songs for Little Misses”, “Songs for Little Masters”, and “Songs”, varying the martial beat of Dr. Watts, on “Divine, Moral and Other Subjects”.[179]

Children, he is persuaded, would be “delighted with the Humour of them because _adapted to their own Way of thinking and to the Occurrences that happen within their own little Sphere of Action_.”

Stevenson could not give a more detailed picture of these “occurrences”; it is in the region of childish thought that his predecessor drifts into an uncharted sea. He knows nothing of the little mythologies of children; there are no imaginary countries, no “Unseen Playmate”, no dreams. It is the difference between the old garden and the new, which is of the child’s own planting.

There was a truant in the _Babees’ Book_[180] who sang:

“I wolde my master were an hare
& all his bokis houndis were
& I myself a joly hontere.”

In the years between this and _Puerilia_, no child was encouraged to put his own thoughts into rhyme; but Marchant’s “Little Miss” is heard “Talking to her Doll”, “Working at her Sampler”, “playing on her Spinet”, even “learning to dance”. The “little Master” of 1751 whips his top, flies his kite and goes a-birds’-nesting in verse, when he is released from Arithmetic and the Languages.

But the world of Make-believe is still unknown to grown-up travellers: a mystery jealously hidden by the child from unsympathetic eyes.

A doll, in the matter-of-fact view of Mr. Marchant, is a “mere painted piece of wood”:

“Legs thou hast, and tho’ they’re jointed,
Yet one Step thou canst not walk;
Head there is to thee appointed,
Yet thou canst not think or talk.”

The rudest image could not be such a dead thing to a child. The author is upon enchanted ground, and blind to all its wonders.

He is safer following the needle in a child’s hand, tracing the “odd and various” crochets upon a sampler, or drawing a moral from the building of a “Pasty Pye”.

To music, whether of kit or spinet, he can keep time. “Miss learning to dance”, in her saque and hooped petticoat, is a bewitching figure, and the musician, though his skill is not great, contrives not to put her out:

“How pretty ’tis to dance!
To curtsey and advance
And wave about my Hands
To sound of Kit.
My Steps true Measure keep,
Thus lightly do I trip,
Along the Floor I sweep
With nimble Feet.”

“Master”, watching a Puppet-show, plays Gulliver at the Court of Lilliput, surveys the “pigmy Troop” and makes appropriate reflections.

A boy’s kite carries this quaint versifier for a moment into the upper air. Even there his fancy cannot support itself; he snatches a simile for the sake of the rhyme, then takes a header to earth and fastens on his moral:

“He that soars a Pitch too high,
Riding on Ambition’s Wings:
Sudden in the Dirt may lie;
Pride its Shadow ever brings.”

But the Kite actually rises, waving a “knotty Tail,” seeming now “a little Cloud,” now “no bigger than a Spoon”; the birds play round her or mistake her for a hawk, and the boy, were his string long enough, “_would send her to the Moon_.”

The rhymes of _Mother Goose’s Melody_ and _The Top Book of All_ were wild flowers that sowed themselves in the midst of herbaceous borders. Two garlands of folk-songs for children grew out of the same soil. The date of _Gammer Gurton’s Garland_ is unknown.[181] A Bodleian copy in flowered covers has some rhymes from _Mother Goose_; but the most daring “Lulliputian” would not have chosen the fairy theme of impossible tasks:

“Can you make me a cambrick shirt,
_Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme_:
Without any seam or needle work?
And you shall be a true lover of mine.”

Here, also, is the singing-game of “London Bridge,” and “A very pretty little Christmas Carol:”

“God bless the Master of this house
The Misteress also
And all the little Children
That round the table go
And all your kin and kinsmen
That dwell both far and near:
I wish them a merry Christmas
And a happy New Year.”

Ritson reprinted _Gammer Gurton_, with additions, in 1810; but in the meantime an unknown editor had collected new “Songs for the Nursery”,[182] and adapted them “to favourite national Melodies”.

This is the biggest gap in the hedge. Here, at last, is the open country,—the cuckoo’s song:

“The Cuckoo’s a bonny bird;
She sings as she flies;
She brings us good tidings
And tells us no lies:
She sucks little birds’ eggs
To make her voice clear
And never cries Cuckoo!
Till Springtime of the year.”,

the daffodil:

“Daffy-Down-Dilly is new come to town
With a yellow petticoat and a green gown.”,

and the song of the North Wind:

“The north Wind doth blow
And we shall have snow
And what will poor Robin do then?
Poor thing!

“He’ll sit in a barn
And keep himself warm
And hide his head under his wing,
Poor thing.”

It is even more surprising to find, in this trim garden, a nursery lyric that calls up the very spirit of child-thought:

“How many miles is it to Babylon?
Three score miles and ten.
Can I get there by candle-light?
Yes, and back again.”[183]

There are no other songs like these. _The Poetical Flower Basket_[184] represents the Lilliputian tradition that prevailed between 1760 and 1789: rhymed fables, epigrams and inscriptions from poets who never wrote for children, and the story of “Inkle and Yarico” in verse.

Of Blake[185], it is difficult to speak in such a company. He was a winged thing hovering over little formal beds of lavender, catching for a moment an echo of children’s voices repeating the creed of “The Little Black Boy,” dropping a tear for the Chimney-Sweeper, then flying off unseen and unheard to sing his own songs of joy and love, too much a child to suffer the interruptions of other children; scarcely to be understood by those who were dreaming their own dreams under the noses of the pedagogues. A Pied Piper who never offered his services to the community; a sublime truant from every school. Of the realistic faith that could map out a Geography of Heaven, he had no knowledge; yet Laws and Moralities were the burden of some songs that had touched him. There is a magic in the simplest form of verse that may quicken the beat of a child’s heart, and endow little forgotten rules and prescriptions of the nursery with unexpected significance. If Blake could have alighted in the starlight outside a window and heard Ann Taylor putting one of her children to bed, he might have come in and acknowledged the existence of naughtiness, just for the pleasure of being forgiven. Some voices can sweeten the longest homily, and the culprit waits patiently for the kiss that must come when the sermon begins:

“And has _my darling_ told a lie?”[186]

There is a triumphant contradiction in so tender a severity; a very rainbow of promise:

“Do you think I can love you so naughty as this,[187]
Or kiss you all wetted with tears?”

“Idle Mary” can pass it all on to her doll. Later on, when she looks down from the height of the first speaker, she understands how forgiveness and hope came with a sudden rush at the end:

“Oh, Mary, this will never do!
This work is sadly done, my dear,
And then so little of it too!
You have not taken pains, I fear.

“Oh no, your work has been forgotten.
Indeed you’ve hardly thought of that;
I saw you roll your ball of cotton
About the floor to please the cat.

...

“The little girl who will not sew
Should neither be allowed to play;
_But then I hope, my love, that you_
_Will take more pains another day_.”[188]

The authors of the _Original Poems_[189] wore the laurels of Dr. Watts “with a difference.” They remembered all his tunes, they played variations on most of his themes, but they added songs of their own. In these, Walter Scott caught a note of poetry, and wrote to thank “the Associate Minstrels”. Miss Edgeworth, who cared less for rhythm, praised them for other excellences. The songs were a means of gentle intercourse between these writers and “that interesting little race, the race of children” for whom they had “so hearty an affection”.

The child of the new garden can join hands, “through the windows of this book”, with the child of the old. Ann and Jane and Adelaide were the great aunts-in-literature of Louis Stevenson. A hundred years before him they sang of stars and sun, of day and night and play in gardens. The contrast is the greater because not one or two, but all their poems turned upon “the whole Duty of Children”. Instead of following a child “up the mountain sides of dreams”, they were intent on pointing out to him a world of greater Reality.

The dream world lies all about Stevenson’s “Garden”, there is no hedge to separate it from ordinary roads and rivers; they all lead to Fairyland. Yet this most practical dreamer could speak in the very accents and call up the _silhouettes_ of his gentle predecessors at any moment.

It is impossible to read of “The friendly cow all red and white”,[190] without thinking of Jane Taylor’s

“Thank you, pretty cow that made
Pleasant milk to soak my bread.”[191]

The child in her garden looked up and wondered at one star; that other child in the hundred-years-distant garden, escaped at bedtime to watch “thousands and millions of stars”.

Who would recognise the theme of Stevenson’s “Wind” symphony, under the old title of “The Child’s Monitor”?[192] Yet the first two lines proclaim it:

“The wind blows down the largest tree
_And yet the wind I cannot see_—”

The wind that brings mystery into the new Garden was an emblem of human thought in the old. Stevenson’s myth is a real product of the child mind:

“O you that are so strong and cold,
O blower, are you young or old?
Are you a beast of field and tree,
Or just a stronger child than me?”

There could be no such heathen explanation for Adelaide O’Keefe. The Wind took shape as an allegory in her day: it changed into the Voice of Conscience, it became an ever-watchful angel:

“Thus, _something_ very near must be,
Although invisible to me;
Whate’er I do, it sees me still,
O then, Good Spirit, guide my will!”

In another place the four elements are considered in a modestly scientific light.[193] They balance a juvenile version of _The Seasons_. Nature is regarded from the old didactic point of view. Spring, when “the Creatures begin their employ” invites to industry; the Idle who in Summer “love best in the shade to recline” are admonished by the active joys of haymaking; the innocent hare is remembered in the hunting season, and in Winter, Charity sits by a glowing hearth and comforts itself with the sophistries of Dr. Watts for the unequal distribution of faggots.

These are but echoes; there are many touches that give the personal records of keen and watchful eyes:

“I saw a leaf come tilting down,
From a bare wither’d bough;
The leaf was dead, the branch was brown,
No fruit was left it now:

“But much the rattling tempest blew,
The naked boughs among:
And here and there came whistling through
A leaf that loosely hung.

...

“I saw an old man totter slow,
Wrinkled, and weak, and grey.
He’d hardly strength enough to go
Ever so short a way.”[194]

The leaf and the old man had been seen and remembered, the one for the sake of the other. There were times when Ann, in her gentle way, came very near the heart of things. The three could not have sung so well together if they had not practised different parts. Jane, comparing her own verses with the rest, modestly explained: “I allow my pieces to rank as the _leaves_ which are, you know, always reckoned a necessary and even pleasing part of the bouquet.”

The comparison is hardly just, or if so, they are bright leaves, more striking, though fewer than the flowers.

There is a crisp touch about her simplest work. The verses are better turned than Adelaide’s or Ann’s. She is content to take her subjects from the common stock of moral tales[195], to arrange her nursery pictures in twos and fours; but in spite of convention, her “Morning” is a Reveillé:

“O come, for the bee has flown out of his bed,
To begin his day’s labours anew;
The spider is weaving her delicate thread,
Which brilliantly glitters with dew.

...

“Awake, little sleeper, and do not despise
Of insects instruction to ask,
From your pillow with good resolution arise,
And cheerfully go to your task.”

“Evening”, the companion picture, is no more original; in due order all the properties of Morpheus move before tired eyes; sheep, and the parting linnet and the owl, the setting sun, the friendly moon that peeps through the curtain. Children know them all, and for that reason, the cradle-movement of the verse is the more soothing. Conventional portraits, “The Shepherd Boy” and “The Gleaner” stand out in clear simplicity, one on each side of the nursery mantel-piece, as “Evening” and “Morning” go over the bed. But when all the pictures are arranged, some of the figures walk out of them and begin to dance upon the floor.

“The Creatures” are never mere moral messengers. Jane has the same eye for character in beasts as in flowers or children. “The Toad’s Journal” in _Q. Q._ is a better example of this than any of her nursery pieces. This “venerable reptile”, supposed to have been found alive in the ruins of an Egyptian temple, records the events of his _first thousand years_:

“Crawled forth from some rubbish and wink’d with one eye;
Half opened the other, but could not tell why;
Stretched out my left leg, as it felt rather queer,
Then drew all together and slept for a year.
Awaken’d, felt chilly—crept under a stone;
Was vastly contented with living alone.
One toe became wedged in the stone like a peg,
Could not get it away—had the cramp in my leg:
Began half to wish for a neighbour at hand
To loosen the stone which was fast in the sand;
Pull’d harder—then dozed as I found it no use;—
Awoke the next summer, and lo! it was loose.”
...

The next sleep (“for a century or more”) gives time to dream; the dreamer, awakened,

“Grew pensive—discovered that life is a load;
_Began to be weary of being a toad_:”

It is a daring moralist who laughs at her own moral:

“To find a moral _when there’s none_
Is hard indeed—_yet must be done_:”

The moral, just because “_there’s none_,” presses the unspoken analogy:

“Age after age afforded him
To wink an eye or move a limb,
To doze and dream;—and then to think
Of noting this with pen and ink;
Or hieroglyphic shapes to draw,
More likely with his hideous claw;
Such length of days might be bestowed
On something better than a toad!
Had his existence been eternal,
What better could have filled his journal?”

To go back to the Nursery (the Original Poets were scarcely more than children when they wrote), Jane’s talking beasts quickened the old stuff of fables by a new sense of likeness and incongruity. The spider and his wife (Jane loved spiders) are as real to a child as any married couple of his acquaintance. He follows their fortunes with personal concern; he would forego a feast to dine with them:

“One day when their cupboard was empty and dry
His wife, (Mrs. Hairy-leg Spinner,)
Said to him, ‘Dear, go to the cobweb, and try
If you can’t find the leg or the wing of a fly,
As a bit of a relish for dinner’”.

The Cow and the Ass, meeting where the child may see them on any summer day, reconcile nonsense and natural history. The small actor can take both parts, and laughs the more at his own drollery.

“‘Take a seat,’ cried the cow, gently waving her hand.
‘By no means, dear Madam,’ said he, ‘while you stand.’
Then stooping to drink, with a complaisant bow,
‘Ma’am, your health,’ said the ass:—‘Thank you, Sir,’ said the cow.”

Thus laughter crept into the garden under the eye of Caution and Example, and, for his coaxing ways, was allowed to stay as a probationer.

* * * * *

Charles and Mary Lamb wrote their _Poetry for Children_[196] as a task. It was probably suggested by Mrs. Godwin, anxious to rival the publishers of _Original Poems_. In a letter to Coleridge (June, 1809), Lamb says: “Our little poems are but humble, but they have no name. You must read them, remembering they were task-work; and perhaps you will admire the number of subjects, all of children, picked out by an old Batchelor and an old Maid. Many parents would not have found so many.”

The Lambs could do nothing together without enjoying it; they could not speak in a child’s voice, and had almost forgotten the way to Babylon, but there are fewer subtleties of child-thought here than in _Mrs. Leicester’s School_. The verses are full of practical interests. The humour of the writers brought tenderness and delight to the “task”, and children, who are quick to catch the note of sympathy, would feel this without understanding it.

Lamb had already tried his hand at children’s rhymes. In 1805 he had written _The King and Queen of Hearts_[197], a careless and farcical impromptu which he sent by carrier to “Mr. Johnny Wordsworth”, begging his “acceptance and opinion”.

It is not easy to decide his exact share in _Poetry for Children_. The pieces reprinted in 1818[198] are not children’s poems. One of them, “To a River in which a Child was drowned”, was suggested by the translation of a Spanish ballad in Percy’s _Reliques_. “Love, Death and Reputation” was recognised by Swinburne as a translation from Webster’s _Duchess of Malfi_.

Lamb seems to have amused himself now and then by casting fragments of mature flavour into this jar of nursery simples.

Of children, but assuredly not for them is the beautiful “Parental Recollections” which suggests understanding as well as love:

“A child’s a plaything for an hour;
Its pretty tricks we try
For that or for a longer space;
Then tire and lay it by.

“But I knew one that to itself
All Seasons could controul,
That would have mock’d the sense of pain
Out of a grieved soul.

“Thou, straggler into loving arms
Young climber up of knees,
When I forget thy thousand ways
Then life and all shall cease.”

Charles Lamb knew the Child that Wordsworth reverenced: the child of imagination

“... _that to itself_
_All seasons could controul_”.

The verses he would have repeated in that child’s company were nonsense rhymes or metrical “wild tales”; not without a song or two from Shakespeare (after the wise example of Mother Goose); for he never could keep the things he loved best out of talk or writing.

_Poetry for Children_ was written to fit parental ideals, just as stories were sometimes invented to accompany stock illustrations; yet Lamb’s gay humour played pranks here and there, as in the gratulatory ode, “Going into Breeches”:

“Joy to Philip, he this day
Has his long coats cast away
And (the childish season gone)
Puts the manly breeches on.
Officer on gay parade,
Red-coat in his first cockade,
Bridegroom in his wedding trim,
Birthday beau surpassing him,
Never did with conscious gait
Strut about in half the state,
Or the pride (yet free from sin)
Of my little Manikin:
Never was there pride or bliss,
Half so rational as his.
Sashes, frocks, to those that need ’em—
Philip’s limbs have got their freedom—
He can run, or he can ride,
And do twenty things beside,
Which his petticoats forbade:
Is he not a happy lad?”

And is not this a mischievous poet, that dares sympathise thus openly with nursery vanities? A dangerous man, with a tendency to romantic, unlawful sentiment. He places the revolutionary effusion between two tender and wholly innocent little poems of Mary’s.[199] It should have been pilloried instead in a column facing “George and the Chimney Sweeper”, by Adelaide O’Keefe:[200]

“His petticoats now George cast off,
For he was four years old;
His trousers were nankeen so fine,
His buttons bright as gold,—
‘May I,’ said little George, ‘go out
My pretty clothes to show?
May I, papa? May I, mamma? ’
_The answer was_—‘_No, no!_’”

Here, retribution is foreshadowed in the first stanza, if a second glance be given at the title.

In another mood. Lamb could sit patient under his reverend predecessor, or give new life to an old text:

“In your garb and outward clothing
A reserved plainness use;
By their neatness more distinguish’d
Than the brightness of their hues.

“All the colours in the rainbow
Serve to spread the peacock’s train;
Half the lustre of their feathers
Would turn twenty coxcombs vain.

“Yet the swan that swims in rivers,
Pleases the judicious sight;
Who, of brighter colours heedless,
Trusts alone to simple white.

“Yet all other hues, compared
With his whiteness, show amiss;
And the peacock’s coat of colours
Like a fool’s coat looks by his.”

Lamb’s instincts were all against the timid doctrine of cautionary tales. A sermon is a thing that may be borne, even enjoyed, at the appointed hour; but there is no escape from regulations which cramp and restrict every natural movement. Philip is not encouraged to eschew games and concentrate on “little books”; he is not warned on promotion that all the things he wants to do are dangerous; he may play Baste the Bear, Leap-frog, Foot-ball and Cricket, he may run in the snow, he may even

“_Climb a tree, or scale a wall,_
_Without any fear to fall._”

If a branch will not bear his weight,

“If he get a hurt or bruise,
To complain he must refuse,
Though the anguish and the smart
Go unto his little heart.”

It was at this point that some of the trees in the Child’s Garden put forth new shoots and began to grow into their natural shapes.

But there was no revolt against wholesome discipline; traditional virtues were still honoured in verse, cleanliness as well as courage:

“Come, my little Robert near—
Fie! what filthy hands are here—
Who that ere could understand
The rare structure of a hand,
With its branching fingers fine,
Work itself of hands divine,

...

“Who this hand would choose to cover
With a crust of dirt all over,
Till it look’d in hue and shape
Like the fore-foot of an Ape?”

The romance of antiquity induces reverence for Age:

“My father’s grandfather lives still,
His age is fourscore years and ten;
He looks a monument of time,
The agedest of aged men.”

These were town-bred poets; Nature figures only in side-glances. “The Ride” gives the town child’s delight in fields, but two children are the real subject of the picture. The Rainbow, regarded from a honeysuckle bower, is sweet after a tempest, but it is a messenger of earth: each precious tint is dear to Mary Lamb, “which flowers, which fields, which _ladies wear_.” The robe of Iris is unwoven to find the colours of gardens, of living things, and of the human face. The magic bridge is dissolved with “half of its perfect arch” yet visible.

“The Boy and the Skylark” is the most revolutionary of these pieces. Bees and lambs, ants and silkworms, had been noted for the docility with which they entered into the business of human improvement. This sky-lark asserts the independence of his race. He scorns the limitations of human imagination which conceives of “the feathered race” as serving the little ends of man. Richard, hearing the lark’s song, confesses his sin, under the impression that the “little bird” will betray him, as indeed Dr. Watts and all Lilliput would have had him believe.

This, says the bird, is folly “fit to move a sky-lark’s mirth.”

“Dull fool! to think we sons of air
On man’s low actions waste a care,
His virtues, or his vices;
Or soaring on the summer gales,
That we should stoop to carry tales
Of him or his devices!

“Our songs are all of the delights
We find in our wild airy flights,
And heavenly exaltation;
The earth you mortals have at heart
Is all too gross to have a part
In sky-lark’s conversation.”

Mrs. Trimmer would have been inexpressibly shocked at this bird’s attitude; Ann Taylor would have been grieved that he was not more friendly; Jane might have seen his point of view. But this lark is a literal poet; there is no attempt here to interpret a real ecstasy of song. The poem is but an argument that hits a popular fallacy. This is still the voice of the town and of common sense. The Spectator might have said as much for the birds that sang in his cherry trees.

There is only one fairy in _Poetry for Children_; fairies, like dreams, were outside the pale of the Garden. This one is a spirit of the age, but springs from the brain of a child. Little Ann was a friend of Mary Lamb’s, and knew what the poet “prettily” wrote about Titania; but because she had not been admitted to fairy Society, it was entirely natural that she should project into fairyland the most diminutive creature of her acquaintance (an Edgeworthian method of setting imagination to work upon experience) and describe the “fabulous being” to her friend:

“‘You’ll confess, I believe, I’ve not done it amiss.’
‘Pardon me,’ said Matilda, ‘I find in all this
Fine description you’ve only your young sister Mary
Been taking a copy of here for a fairy.’”

There is a thrill of adventure in the true tale of a child that took an adder for a “_fine grey bird_”, and shared with it, in perfect fearlessness, his breakfast of bread and milk; children laugh over the odd choice of the little Creole who saw a crowd of dancing chimney sweepers on a May morning, thought they were his fellow countrymen, and became ambitious for a sooty coat. These stories could have been told as well in prose; but the charming fancy called “The Desert” is a feast of the nursery muse:

“With the apples and the plums
Little Carolina comes,
At the time of the dessert she
Comes and drops her last new curt’sy;
Graceful curt’sy, practis’d o’er
In the nursery before.
What shall we compare her to?
The dessert itself will do.
Like preserves she’s kept with care,
Like blanch’d almonds she is fair,
Soft as down on peach her hair,
And so soft, so smooth is each
Pretty cheek as that same peach,
...
Whiter drapery she does wear
Than the frost on cake; and sweeter
Than the cake itself, and neater,
Though bedeck’d with emblems fine,
Is our little Caroline.”

Studies of children, in the warm and tender colouring of personal reminiscence, are the chief matter of the book; children do not appreciate the love and insight that makes it poetry; they will not stand still to trace, in these portraits of brothers and sisters, a likeness to the gentle authors. Grown-up persons, acquainted with the family history, understand the little girl’s patience over her broken doll and her studied kindness to “dear little craving selfish John”.

There is a bending-down in many of the poems that only grown-up persons understand; the writers stoop to conquer childish reserve, not at all in the disconcerting manner of Wordsworth, though they sometimes adopt his way of recording the result:

“Lately an Equipage I overtook,
And help’d to lift it o’er a narrow brook.
No horse it had except one boy, who drew
His sister out in it the fields to view.
O happy town-bred girl, in fine chaise going
For the first time to see the green grass growing.
This was the end and purport of the ride
I learn’d, as walking slowly by their side
I heard their conversation....”

The “task” is forgotten in the pleasure or pathos of such incidents:

“In a stage coach, where late I chanc’d to be,
A little quiet girl my notice caught;
I saw she look’d at nothing by the way,
Her mind seem’d busy on some childish thought.

“I with an old man’s courtesy address’d
The child, and call’d her pretty dark-eyed maid
And bid her turn those pretty eyes and see
The wide-extended prospect. ‘Sir,’ she said,

“‘I cannot see the prospect, I am blind.’
Never did tongue of child utter a sound
So mournful, as her words fell on my ear.
...”

Mary Lamb’s poem “The Two Boys”, quoted by Lamb in “Detached Thoughts on Books and Reading”, records an incident of Martin Burney’s youth:[201]

“I saw a boy with eager eye
Open a book upon a stall,
And read, as he’d devour it all,
Which, when the stall-man did espy,
Soon to the boy I heard him call
‘You, sir, you never buy a book.
Therefore in one you shall not look.’
The boy pass’d slowly on, and with a sigh
He wish’d he never had been taught to read,
Then of the old churl’s books he should have had no need.”

This is an unexpected link with Stevenson; the proprietor of the shop “which was dark and smelt of Bibles” (that quaint store-house of romance)[202] is a reincarnation of this bookstall man; he repeats the old growl in prose:

“I do not believe, child, that you are an intending purchaser at all!”

To compare these verses with Stevenson’s is to discover an essential difference. The Lambs had the same delight in memories, but they looked back with tenderness to a childhood which they had been forced to leave behind. Stevenson was a boy to the end. The Child in his Garden is heard singing his own deeds. These gentle Olympians looked down at

“Horatio, of ideal courage vain,”

saw him now as Achilles, brandishing his sword, now Hector in a field of slaughtered Greeks, or the Black Prince, driving the enemy before him; but lest vain imagination should grow bold upon encouragement, he must strike his milk-white hand against a nail, and seal the moral with his blood:

“Achilles weeps, Great Hector hangs his head,
And the Black Prince goes whimpering to bed.”

The “Mimic Harlequin” who transforms a whole drawing-room full of furniture into matter of imagination is brought back to reality by his practical mother:

“You’ve put the cat among my work, and torn
A fine lac’d cap that I but once have worn.”

Yet in another rhyme, the monitress relents, and indulging the idle fancies of Robert, allows him, though late for breakfast,

“To sit and watch the vent’rous fly
Where the sugar’s piled high,
Clambering o’er the lumps so white,
_Rocky cliffs of sweet delight_”.

There is not enough of this to make a book of children’s poetry. Romance knocked timidly at the gate and tendered a moral as the price of admission; but it would be a dull child that could not find him somewhere in this corner of the garden.

The two small volumes had a short life; some of the pieces were reprinted in collections, but the book failed to hold its own against Mr. Roscoe’s bright fancy, _The Butterfly’s Ball_[203], written for the birthday of his little boy Robert, and set to music by order of their Majesties for Princess Mary.

Children responded with one accord to the invitation of the first couplet:

“Come take up your Hats, and away let us haste
To the Butterfly’s Ball and the Grasshopper’s Feast.”

Here was an entertainment which made no demands on attention or understanding, which had no “moral”; it was all pure enjoyment. The rhymes were as simple as any in _Mother Goose’s Melody_; the pictures, early efforts of Mulready’s[204], presented the various creatures in glorious independence, no more constrained by laws of proportion than the inhabitants of a willow-pattern landscape. They come, a gay and irresponsible procession, with a hint of fairy-land for all their reality:

“A Mushroom their table, and on it was laid
A Water-Dock leaf, which a Table-Cloth made.”

There is “the sly little Dormouse” and “his blind Brother the Mole”; the Frog (found still in the same attitude by Alice in Wonderland) and the Squirrel, who watches the feast from a tree. The rest are mostly winged:

“... the Gnat and the Dragon-fly too,
With all their Relations, Green, Orange, and Blue.”

The Harlequin Spider performs feats on the tight line, a giant Bee hovers over an absurdly inadequate hive, a snail bigger than either offers to dance a Minuet; and at nightfall the Watchman Glow-worm is ready with his light.

The feast is soon done, but for a third reading it can be got by heart.

“A Sequel”, _The Peacock “At Home”_,[205] appeared in the same year, with a frank and humorous acknowledgment of its predecessor’s success. A pleasing mystery about its authorship was solved some years later in the preface of “_The Peacock and Parrot on their Tour to discover the Author of ‘The Peacock At Home’_.”

“A path strewed with flowers they early pursued,
And in fancy, their long-sought Incognita viewed.
Till, all their cares over, in _Dorset_ they found her,
And, plucking a wreath of green bay-leaves, they crowned her.”

Mrs. Dorset, thus discovered, was a sister of Charlotte Smith, the writer of _Minor Morals_ and _Rural Walks_.

All the birds left out of the Butterfly’s Ball, including foreigners, such as the Taylor Bird and Flamingo, were guests of the Peacock. They offered a variety of absurd analogies.

_The Lion’s Masquerade_, rhymed in the same quaint humour, was a sort of Æsop in Ranelagh:

“The guests now came thronging in numbers untold,
The furious, the gentle, the young and the old,
In dominos some, but in characters most,
And now a brave warrior, and then a fair toast.
_The Baboon_ as a _Counsellor_: Alderman Glutton:
A Lamb, Miss _in her teens_, with her aunt, an old mutton.
It was easy to see, as this couple past by,
The Wolf, very cunningly, cast a sheep’s eye.”

A guest of unusual interest is the “_Great Hog in Armour_” who stalks, in Mulready’s illustration, like the ghost in Hamlet, under a full moon; and there is a Bear in the “character” of Caliban,

“... loaded with wood,
His bones full of aches, from Prospero’s rod.”

Those were great naval days; the English sailor is represented by a Mastiff:

“Britannia receiv’d him with mark’d condescension
And paid him all night, most distinguish’d attention.”

Bewick’s beasts and birds forsook their natural haunts and danced in the most carefully preserved parterres. They came in their thousands, of all sizes and nationalities. “W. B.” followed Mrs. Dorset with _The Elephant’s Ball_, and the Season was extended till all “the Children of Earth and the Tenants of Air” were exhausted. Children ran out of the Lambs’ quiet parlour into a garden of perpetual Feasts. What could come better after the Butterfly’s Ball than a Wedding Among the Flowers?

But there was still an old-fashioned lady, one Miss Elizabeth Turner, who held aloof, wielding the rod of Dr. Watts. With the perversity of their race, the Lilliputians fell into step as they approached her, and listened to her warnings with a fearful joy. She told them, in simple numbers, how Miss Sophia would not wait for the garden gate to be opened, and demonstrated by her fall, that “little girls should never climb”; she expected them to believe that every little boy with a craving for adventure must share the fate of one who

“Once was pretty Jack
And had a kind Papa;
But, silly child! he ran to play
Too far from home, a long, long way,
And did not ask Mama.
So he was lost, and now must creep
Up chimneys, crying, Sweep! Sweep! Sweep!”

Poor Jane and little Tom excited a thrill as “cautionary” Babes in the Wood. They succumbed to the fatal fascination of scarlet berries:

“Alas! had Tommy understood
That fruit in lanes is seldom good,
He might have walked with little Jane
Again along the shady lane.”

Small listeners decided privately that Peter was an indifferent sportsman to turn the red-hot poker against himself; they would prove at the first opportunity that he bungled the thing. But when other children cried, it amused them to agree with Miss Turner that

“A rod is the very best thing to apply
When children are crying and cannot tell why!”

The names of her two little books[206] have no obvious connection with the verses. She explains _The Daisy_ in a _Cowslip_ rhyme:

“Like the flow’ret it spreads, unambitious of fame,
Nor intrudes upon critical gaze.”

But names are pictures to a child: daisies and cowslips should have a place in his garden. In open defiance of the calendar, these were succeeded by _The Snowdrop_ and _The Crocus_. Mary Elliott suffered herself to be turned by the Muse from Precept and Example; she added _The Rose_[207] to this serial garland. Little feet went willingly after her, for she led the way through a village, and visited many friends. At the window of the village shop they loitered together, forgetting all the penalties of pleasure-seeking in a glory of gingerbread, candy, little gilt books and many sorts of toys:

“How many bright eyes have I seen
Examine each article o’er,
Still looking, while pausing between
The window and latch of the door.

“For well the young customers know
The Dame does not like to be teased,
And when indecision they show,
Cries ‘children can never be pleased!’

“Such grumbling, however, is borne
While thus she displays such nice fare,
And her threshold, uneven and worn
Proves how many footsteps go there!”

The Giant Instruction sent a few spies into the garden, disguised as poets. Wise children saw through the deception at once; others, lured into encyclopædic mazes, yawned while the guide recited “Edward, or Rambling reasoned on”,[208] and described the delights of town for the benefit of those who hankered after foreign travel:

“The pictures in the Louvre
Display their bright perfections,
But we should first manœuvre
To see some home collections.

...

“The Royal Institution
Gives knowledge, taste and skill,
And change without confusion
Attends its lectures still.

“Some folks have wished to be
Whole years in the Museum:
So much there is to see,
No fear it should _ennui ’em_.”

The unconscious humorist rambles thus through a dozen stanzas. But the last lines are drowned by the voice of the Pedlar at the door. He is singing new rhymes to old tunes: _Whimsical Incidents_, _Cinderella in Verse_, _Mother Hubbard_, _Dame Trot_ and _Goody Flitch_.[209] The Lady of Ninety who wrote _Dame Wiggins of Lee_[210] must have heard him singing in her youth.

Nonsense rhymers, whipped out of the Court of Stupidity, found a refuge in the purlieus of the child’s garden; nobody recognised them as descendants of the citizens of Cockayne, or suspected that they would one day be honoured as predecessors of Edward Lear. Yet who shall gauge their influence on the character of Englishmen, or decide how far the eccentricities of certain theorists depended on the exclusion of nonsense from the nursery?

The History of the _Sixteen Wonderful Old Women_[211] came too late for Mr. Day:

“There was an Old Woman from France
Who taught grown-up Children to dance,
But they were so stiff,
She sent them home in a miff,
This sprightly Old Woman from France.”

While Mr. Edgeworth was “explaining” poetry to children, and later, when Young Reviewers were being taught to “dissect poems”,[212] the Pedlar was still singing for truant minds. If he knew nothing of poetry, at least he knew enough to let it alone; and his songs were good to dance to, which every child knows is an excellent thing in songs.

FOOTNOTES

[1] _The Tatler_, No. 95.

[2] See Appendix A. I. Note on these and other romances.

[3] _The History of Thomas Hickathrift_, 1750 (?). See below. Chapter II and Appendix A. II.

[4] See Appendix A. I. Note on _Dr. Faustus_.

[5] See Appendix A. I. Note on Nonsense Books.

[6] For details of this and of other tracts, see Appendix A. I.

[7] First edition, 1678.

[8] See Introduction to _The Pilgrim’s Progress_ (Methuen) by Prof. C. H. Firth.

[9] Richard Graves, in the _Spiritual Quixote_ (1772), likens the adventures of Christian to those of Jack the Giant Killer and John Hickathrift.

[10] Published 1719. Abridged 12 mo. in the same year. See Note on _Philip Quarll_, Appendix A. I.

[11] First edition, 1726.

[12] _Spectator_, Nos. 70, 74 and 85. See Appendix A. I.

[13] See further Appendix A. I.

[14] See Appendix A. I.

[15] See note on sea songs and ballads—Appendix A. I.

[16] First printed by W. Copland.

[17] First printed by Wynkyn de Worde.

[18] _Illustrations of Northern Antiquities_, by Weber, Jamieson and Scott.

[19] Printed from the earliest extant copies, and edited by G. L. Gomme. (_Chap-books and Folk-lore Tracts_, First Series, 1885).

[20] See Coleridge’s _Biographia Literaria_, Vol. II., Ch. XVIII. (1870 ed.).

[21] A Douce chap-book of _Tom Thumb_ (verse) is “corrected after an old copy, printed for F. Coles”. This has a note on an earlier edition (1621).

[22] (_a_) “The Wandering Young Gentlewoman, or Catskin (complete)”. W. Armstrong, Liverpool, n.d. (early 19th c.) (_b_) “Catskin’s Garland, or the Wandering Young Gentlewoman”, in five parts (verse). Printed and sold by T. Cheney, Banbury, n.d.

[23] For a full account of ballads and prose chap-books, see the introduction to “The History of Sir Richard Whittington”, edited by H. B. Wheatley (Chap-books and Folk-lore Tracts, 1885). See Appendix A for references in the _Tatler_, _Spectator_, etc.

[24] _Histoires ou Contes du Tems passé, avec des Moralités. A Paris, chez Claude Barbin. Avec Privilège de sa Majesté, 1697._ Title on frontispiece: _Contes de ma mère Loye_. Another edition: _Histoires ou Contes du Temps passé, avec des Moralités. Par le fils de Monsieur Perrault de l’Academie François. Suivant la copie à Paris. A Amsterdam, chez Jacques Desbordes, 1708._ For a full account of Charles Perrault and the _Contes_, see Mr. Andrew Lang’s introduction to his edition, 1888.

[25] The original English translation is advertised in the _Flying Post_, or _Weekly Medley_ for June 7, 1729, “printed for J. Pope at Sir Isaac Newton’s Head, the corner of Suffolk Street, Charing Cross—just published (very entertaining and instructive for children, with cuts to every tale). Done into English from the French by Mr. Samber.”

[26] (_a_) _Tales of the Fairys._ Translated from the French. For T. Cockerill, 1699. 12s. (_b_) The collected Works of Madame D’Aulnoy, published by John Nicolson, at the King’s Arms, and at the Cross Keys and Bible in Cornhill, 1707.

[27] Translated into English _c._ 1770. 3rd edition 1776.

[28] See below, Chap. VI.

[29] The _Arabian Nights’ Entertainments_. Translated into French from the Arabian MSS. by M. Galland of the Royal Academy, and now done into English. For A. Bell, 1708, 12mo. (8 vols.). See Appendix A. II.

[30] See Wordsworth’s “Prelude”, Book V.

[31] _The History of Sinbad_ was published as a nursery chap-book by E. Newbery (between 1779 and 1801) at 6d.

[32] See De Quincey’s _Autobiographic Sketches_, Vol. I, Ch. III. “Infant Literature,” pp. 121-125.

[33] See _Spectator_, 535.

[34] _Rambler_, 65.

[35] _Anecdotes of Johnson_ (1786) by Mrs. Thrale (aft. Piozzi).

[36] _The Oriental Moralist, or the Beauties of the Arabian Nights’ Entertainments_: “Translated from the original, accompanied with suitable reflections, adapted to each story”. London, E. Newbery, c. 1796.

[37] _The Travels of Tom Thumb over England and Wales_, “containing Descriptions of whatever is most remarkable in the several Counties, interspersed with many pleasant Adventures that happened to him personally during the Course of his Journey. Written by Himself.” London, 1746. Price 1s. 6d. bound.

[38] _Robin Goodfellow_, “A Fairy Tale written by a Fairy, for the amusement of all the pretty little Faies and Fairies in Great Britain and Ireland”. Printed for F. Newbery, 1770.

[39] See Appendix A. II.

[40] Mr. Charles Welsh in _A Bookseller of the Last Century_, gives a full account of John Newbery and his work. There is a complete list of the Newbery Books in the Appendix.

[41] By J. Wright. Second edition, 1738.

[42] The “Advertisement” is quoted in Appendix A. III.

[43] Advertised in the _Penny London Post_, January 18, 1745.

[44] Adv., April 9th, 1761. See Appendix A. III.

[45] From Francis Newbery’s Autobiography.

[46] Advertised in the _General Evening Post_, March 4, 1751, Price 3d. Additions in Appendix A. III.

[47] An “Entertainment” later performed with Garrick’s “Fairy Tale from Shakespeare” (1777). See p. 82, Note 2.

[48] See note in Appendix A. III.

[49] See Appendix A. III.—Novels abridged or adapted for children.

[50] See Appendix A. III.

[51] Title-page, etc. in Appendix A. III.

[52] First edition, April, 1765. Others in Appendix A. III.

[53] For details of the _Valentine’s_ and _Twelfth Day Gifts_, see Appendix A. III.

[54] _Spectator_, 117, July 14, 1711; and Goldsmith, “On Deceit and Falsehood”, The Bee, No. 8, Nov. 24, 1759.

[55] See below. Chap. VII.

[56] _The Bee._ Nov. 10, 1759—“On Education.”

[57] See Note in Appendix A. III.

[58] Examples in Appendix A. III.

[59] Some account of them, and of the later “Lilliputian” books is given in Appendix A. III.

[60] Mentioned in Carnan’s list of 1787. For details see Appendix A. III.

[61] _Juvenile Trials_ “for robbing orchards, telling fibs and other heinous offences—Embellished with Cuts. By Master Tommy Lyttleton, Secretary to the Court”. T. Carnan, 1781. Another edition—Lond. for T. Carnan, 1786.

[62] See below, Chapter VI.

[63] _The Juvenile Biographer_, “containing the lives of little Masters and Misses, both good and naughty. Price three-pence”. E. Newbery’s list, 1789. The first edition must have been earlier, since a New England edition was published in 1787. See Appendix A. III.

[64] Vincent Voiture (1598-1648). See _Some Thoughts Concerning Education_, § 189. Pope also praised Voiture.

[65] Printed for T. Carnan in St. Paul’s Churchyard, 1786.

[66] This advice suggests a sly hit at the conversation-parties of the bluestockings, some of whom became writers of children’s books.

[67] _Juvenile Correspondence; or letters suited to Children from four to above ten Years of Age._ In three Sets. 2nd edition, London, John Marshall, n.d. (_c._ 1777). For details of another collection by Lucy Aikin (1816), see Appendix A. III.

[68] The letters of real children were even more mature. See Appendix A. III.

[69] Called here “_A Midsummer Night’s Dream_”. This must have been Garrick’s _Fairy Tale in Two Acts, taken from Shakespeare_, played at the Haymarket in 1777. “The young Princes and Princesses” mentioned as having been at the play, were the children of George III, then between the ages of three and fourteen.

[70] See below—Chapters V and VI.

[71] See further—Appendix A. III.

[72] For nursery-books printed by Catnach and Pitts, see Appendix A. III.

[73] _The History of a Banbury Cake_, “An entertaining Book for Children”. Banbury, printed and sold by J. G. Rusher, Bridge Street, 1d., n.d.

[74] Rousseau’s _Emile_ was published in 1762. Translated into English, 1763.

[75] Contributed to _Le Mercure_ (c. 1758). Translated into English “by a Lady” (Miss Roberts), 1763. Translated by Mrs. Pilkington and illustrated by Bewick, 1799.

[76] _L’Ami des Enfans._ Published monthly “_avec approbation et privilège du roi_”, January, 1782-December, 1783. First English translation (24 vols.) by M. A. Meilan, 1783. See Appendix A. IV. Note on Armand Berquin.

[77] _The Looking Glass for the Mind; or, Intellectual Mirror_; “being an elegant collection of the Most Delightful little Stories, and Interesting Tales: chiefly translated from that much admired Work, L’Ami des Enfans. With seventy-four Cuts, designed and engraved on Wood, by J. Bewick.” First published 1787. E. Newbery’s list, 1789. Reprinted in 1885, with an introduction by Charles Welsh.

[78] _Les Conversations d’Emilie_, crowned by the French Academy in 1783. Translated into English. London, John Marshall, 1787.

[79] _Adèle et Théodore (3 tomes)_, Paris, 1782. Translated (3 vols.), London, 1783.

[80] _Les Veillées du Château._ 1784. Translated by T. Holcroft, Dublin, 1785. See Appendix A. IV, for an account of Mrs. Pilkington’s _Tales of the Cottage_, 1799.

[81] See Mr. Austin Dobson’s account of Madame de Genlis in _Four Frenchwomen_. London, 1890.

[82] _Le Théâtre d’Education_, published, 1779. Translated (4 vols.) 2nd edition, London, 1781. See Appendix A. IV, Educational Dramas.

[83] Translated into English as _The History of Little Grandison_. “By M. Berquin, Author of _The Children’s Friend_.” London, printed for John Stockdale, 1791. (Price one shilling.) Frontispiece by John Bewick.

[84] _Le Petit La Bruyère; ou, Caractères et Moeurs des Enfans de ce Siècle. Nouvelle édition, Paris, 1801._ Translated as _La Bruyère the Less_, Dublin, 1801.

[85] See Appendix A. V.

[86] _The History of Sandford and Merton_, “A work intended for the use of children”. London. For L. Stockdale, 1783-6-9 (3 vols.). The book was reprinted all through the nineteenth century.

[87] The first volumes were published in 1766, the fifth not till 1770, when an abridged chap-book version also appeared. Charles Kingsley edited a reprint in 1872.

[88] See below, Chapter VIII.

[89] This story had appeared in _The Twelfth Day Gift_, and was very popular in pre-revolutionary days.

[90] _The Children’s Miscellany_. London, printed for John Stockdale, 1787. It included “The Gentleman and the Basket Maker”. “Little Jack”, printed separately, became a favourite chap-book.

[91] See Appendix A. V.

[92] _The Hermit; or, the Unparalled (sic) sufferings and surprising adventures of Mr. Philip Quarll, an Englishman, who was lately discovered by Mr. D—— upon an uninhabited island in the South Sea_, etc. London, 1727. For other editions see Appendix A. V.

[93] _The New Robinson Crusoe_, 4 vols. London, 1788.

[94] _Original Stories from Real Life_, “with Conversations calculated to Regulate the Affections and Form the Mind to Truth and Goodness”. By Mary Wollstonecraft. London. Printed for J. Johnson, 1791 (Illustrated by William Blake). Reprinted, Oxford, 1906, with five of Blake’s illustrations. Intro. Mr. E. V. Lucas.

[95] See below—Chapter VI.

[96] Dated (1783) by a reference to “the invention of Air Balloons”, quoted below. Earliest edition seen: _The Juvenile Tatler_, “by a Society of Young Ladies under the Tuition of Mrs. Teachwell.” London, J. Marshall. 1789.

[97] _The Fairy Spectator; or, The Invisible Monitor._ By Mrs. Teachwell and her Family (Eleanor, Lady Fenn). London. J. Marshall. 1789.

[98] See the _Memoir of Thomas Bewick_ (1862). See also Mr. Austin Dobson’s account in _Thomas Bewick and His Pupils_ (1884)

[99] _Fables, by the late Mr. Gay._ In one Volume complete. Newcastle, T. Saint, etc., 1779.

[100] See below—Appendix A. VI.

[101] _The Governess; or the Little Female Academy_, “calculated for the entertainment and Instruction of Young Ladies in their Education. By the Author of _David Simple_.” London, printed for A. Millar, over against Catharine Street in the Strand. The Third Edition, Revised and Corrected, 1751.

A second edition had been printed in 1749. Miss Fielding’s novel, _David Simple_, had appeared in 1744.

[102] _Le Magasin des Enfans, par Madame le Prince de Beaumont._ 2nd ed. 1757. Translated into English in 1767 as _The Young Misses’ Magazine_. See Appendix A. VI.

[103] _The Village School_, “interspersed with entertaining stories.” By M. P. 2 vols. Price 1/-. From a list of “New Books for the Instruction and Amusement of Children”. London, J. Marshall _c._ 1788. (At the back of a copy of _Primrose Prettyface_, inscribed “Thomas Preston,” with date March 22nd, 1788). See Appendix A. VI.

[104] _Jemima Placid; or, the Advantage of Good-Nature_, etc. By S. S. Price 6d. Marshall’s List, _c._ 1788.

[105] See _John Hookham Frere and his Friends_, by Gabrielle Festing. Nisbet, 1899. Jemima Placid is ascribed in a foot-note to “_Miss Dorothy_ Kilner.”

[106] _The Boys’ School; or, Traits of Character in Early Life._ A Moral Tale by Miss Sandham. London, printed for John Souter at the School Library, 73 St. Paul’s Churchyard, 1800. See Appendix A. VI.

[107] _The Schoolfellows, a Moral Tale._ By the author of _The Twin Sisters_, etc. 1818.

[108] _The Academy; or, a Picture of Youth._ London, G. Harris, and Darton and Harvey. Edinburgh, W. Bury, 1808.

[109] _The Juvenile Spectator_, “Being observations on the Tempers Manners and Foibles of Various Young Persons. Interspersed with such lively matter as it is presumed will amuse as well as instruct.” By Arabella Argus. London, W. & T. Darton, 1810.

[110] For other books by Mrs. Argus, see Appendix A. VI.

[111] A satire on well-known persons of the day, by F. Coventry, 1751.

[112] _Fabulous Histories_, “Designed for the Instruction of Children, Respecting their Treatment of Animals”. By Mrs. Trimmer. London, Printed for J. Johnson, etc., J. Harris and others. 1786. Eighth edition (dedicated to “H.R.H. Princess Sophia”, then a child of nine), 1807.

[113] See _Some Account of the Life and Writings of Mrs. T._ Further details in Appendix A. VI.

[114] _The Life and Perambulation of a Mouse._ By M. P. 2 vols. Price 1/-. _c._ 1788.

[115] _Keeper’s Travels in Search of his Master._ By Edward Augustus Kendall. London, E. Newbery, 1798.

[116] See Appendix A. VI.

[117] _The Adventures of a Donkey._ By Arabella Argus, Author of _The Juvenile Spectator_. London, W. Darton, 1815.

[118] London. J. Harris, 1809. See Appendix A. VI.

[119] _Felissa; or, the Life and Opinions of a Kitten of Sentiment._ J. Harris, 1811. Reprinted, Methuen, 1903.

[120] _Chrysal; or, the Adventures of a Guinea._ By Charles Johnstone (1760).

[121] _The Adventures of a Silver Threepence_, “containing much Amusement and many Characters with which young Gentlemen and Ladies ought to be acquainted”. Adorned with cuts. Burslem, J. Tregortha, n.d. (Dutch flowered bds.) For other “adventures” of things, see Appendix A. VI.

[122] _The Adventures of a Pincushion_, “Designed chiefly for the Use of Young Ladies”. By S. S. Price 6d., Marshall’s list, _c._ 1788.

[123] Anna Laetitia Aikin (afterwards Mrs. B.). See the Memoir by A. L. Le Breton, 1874. Her sister Lucy was the author of _Juvenile Correspondence_ and other children’s books.

[124] _Hymns in Prose for Children_, 1781. This was preceded by Mrs. B.’s _Lessons for Children_, a first reading-book. (1780).

[125] _Harry Beaufoy; or, The Pupil of Nature_, by Maria Hack (1821), was written to illustrate Paley’s doctrine.

[126] Mrs. G., the mother of Mrs. Ewing, published her _Parables from Nature_ between 1855 and 1871.

[127] Published in six volumes (1792-1796) and frequently reprinted during the nineteenth century.

[128] Written 1805-1806. Published by M. J. Godwin, at the Juvenile Library, Skinner Street, 1807. 2nd Edition, 1809.

[129] William Betty, “the celebrated Young Roscius”, appeared in Belfast, Dublin and London, between 1803 and 1805. A “Biographical Sketch” of him, by G. D. Harley, appeared in 1804.

[130] Published by M. J. Godwin, at the Juvenile Library, Skinner Street, 1808. Mentioned in the European Magazine for November, 1808. See Appendix A. VII.

[131] _Mrs. Leicester’s School; or, the History of Several Young Ladies, Related by Themselves._

Written 1808. Published 1809. 2nd edition, 1809. Mentioned in the _Critical Review_ for December, 1808. See Appendix A. VII.

[132] See the note in “Emily Barton”, Vol. III of the _Works of Charles and Mary Lamb_, edited by Mr. E. V. Lucas.

[133] See Appendix A. VII.

[134] See _The Family Pen_, edited by Isaac Taylor, Jun., 1867. See further, Appendix A. VII.

[135] See below, Chapter IX.

[136] Published June, 1816.

[137] From Feb., 1816, to the end of 1822. Collected as “_The Contributions of Q. Q. to a Periodical Work_”, with some pieces not before published. By the late Jane Taylor. 2 vols. London. B. J. Holdsworth, St. Paul’s Churchyard, 1824.

[138] From a letter of J. T.’s, describing her room.

[139] _The Wedding Among the Flowers_ (verse) by Ann Taylor, 1808.

[140] See “Spring Flowers”, No. XXX of _The Contributions of Q. Q._

[141] Martha Mary Butt (afterwards Mrs. Sherwood), 1755-1851. See _The Life and Times of Mrs. Sherwood_, edited by F. J. Harvey Darton. London, 1910.

[142] See Appendix A. VII.

[143] Reprinted by Mr. Darton in his _Life and Times of Mrs. S._

[144] _The Infant’s Progress from the Valley of Destruction to Everlasting Glory._ By Mrs. Sherwood, author of _Little Henry and his Bearer_, etc., etc. Houlston, 1821. Composed in India, 1814.

[145] _The Governess; or, the Little Female Academy._ “By Mrs. Sherwood.” See Appendix. A. VII.

[146] _The History of the Fairchild Family; or, the Child’s Manual._ “Being a Collection of Stories calculated to show the Importance and Effects of a Religious Education”. By Mrs. Sherwood. London. Printed for J. Hatchard and sold by F. Houlston & Son, Wellington, 1818.

[147] _The Orphan Boy; or, a Journey to Bath._ By Mary Elliott. See Appendix A. VII.

[148] See Helen Zimmern’s _Maria Edgeworth_, 1883.

[149] Never published, as Holcroft’s translation appeared before it was ready (1785).

[150] _The Parent’s Assistant; or, Stories for Children._ By “M. E.” London, Joseph Johnson, St. Paul’s Churchyard. 3 vols. 12 mo. published in 2 parts. Announced in the _Monthly Review_ for Sept., 1796. See Appendix A. VIII.

[151] “Waste Not, Want Not; or, Two Strings to Your Bow.” P. A. Vol. III.

[152] “Old Poz” (P. A. Vol. II) was the only play published early. Others, written between 1808 and 1814, appeared in _Little Plays for Young People_; “Warranted Harmless”. By Maria Edgeworth. London, Baldwin & Cradock. 1827. See Appendix A. VIII.

[153] A letter from Maria Edgeworth to Mary Sneyd (March 19, 1803) describing her visit to Madame de Genlis, suggests a want of sympathy between them. See Appendix A. VIII.

[154] See Appendix A. VIII.

[155] The two sisters, contrasted with the frivolous Lady Augusta in “Mademoiselle Panache”.

[156] The first tale of Rosamond: “The Birth-day Present”. (P. A. Vol. I.)

[157] See “The Mimic”. (P. A. Vol. II.)

[158] A remark of Scott’s to Mrs. Davy, quoted in Lockhart’s _Life_.

[159] First edition (2 Vols.) 1801. A continuation in 2 volumes was published in 1815. See Appendix A. VIII.

[160] _The Botanic Garden; a Poem, in Two Parts._ Part I containing The Economy of Vegetation. Part II, The Loves of the Plants. With Philosophical Notes. 1789.

Quoted in Appendix A. VIII.

[161] Begun by Mr. Edgeworth and Mrs. Honora Edgeworth, to follow Mrs. Barbauld’s _Lessons for Children_. The first part was printed for use in the family.

[162] _Harry and Lucy_, Vol. II. “Young Travellers.” A piece of pure nonsense composed by Samuel Foote, comic actor and playwright. (_c._ 1720-1777). See Appendix A. VIII.

[163] First edition, 1801.

[164] Madame de Staël made this criticism to M. Dumont.

[165] _Early Lessons_, Vol. II.

[166] See Mr. Edgeworth’s preface to _The Parent’s Assistant_.

[167] _Harry and Lucy_, Vol. III (4th ed. 1846).

[168] Writing from Black Castle, Mrs. Ruxton’s house, in 1803, Miss E. calls it “this enchanted castle”.

[169] See Mr. Edgeworth’s “Address to Mothers”, _Early Lessons_ (Vol. III). a list of books which he mentions is given in Appendix A. VIII.

[170] See _The Life and Letters of Maria Edgeworth_, edited by A. J. C. Hare.

[171] In a letter to C. Sneyd Edgeworth, May 1, 1813.

[172] _Spectator_, No. 477. Sat. Sep. 6. 1712.

[173] MS. Bodl. 832. There is a reprint in the _Babees’ Book_ (E.E.T.S.)

[174] See Bunyan’s _Book for Boys and Girls; or, Country Rhimes for Children_, 1686. See Appendix A. IX.

[175] See Appendix A. IX.

[176] By William Ronksley, 1712. See Appendix A. IX.

[177] _Divine Songs for Children_, by the Rev. Isaac Watts, D.D., 1715. _Divine and Moral Songs for Children_, 10th ed., 1729.

[178] “The Butterfly”, by Adelaide O’Keefe. See below. _Original Poems_ by the Taylors and A. O’K.

[179] _Puerilia; or, Amusements for the Young._ “Consisting of a Collection of Songs adapted to the Fancies and Capacities of those of tender Years, and taken from their usual Diversions and Employments: also on Subjects of a more elevated Nature. Divided into three Parts, viz.: I. Songs for little Misses. II. Songs for little Masters. III. Songs on Divine, Moral and other Subjects, etc.” By John Marchant, Gent.

London, Printed for P. Stevens and sold by the Booksellers in Town and Country. 1751.

[180] Preserved in a Balliol MS. Quoted by Mrs. E. M. Field in _The Child and His Book_.

[181] _Gammer Gurton’s Garland; or, The Nursery Parnassus._ “A choice Collection of pretty Songs and Verses for the Amusement of all little Children.”

Stockton. Christopher and Jennett, n.d.

[182] _Songs for the Nursery_, “collected from the Works of the most renowned Poets and adapted to favourite national Melodies.” London, printed for Tabart & Co. at the Juvenile and School Library, 157, New Bond Street, 1805 (price sixpence).

[183] See Appendix A. IX. for a reference by R. L. Stevenson.

[184] _The Poetical Flower-Basket; or, The Lilliputian Flight to Parnassus._ price 4d., in Dutch flowered bds. n.d. (_c._ 1780).

[185] Blake’s _Songs of Innocence_ appeared in 1789.

[186] “To a Little Girl That Has Told a Lie”, by Ann Taylor. (Original Poems, Vol. I. See below.)

[187] From the same: “For a Naughty Little Girl.”

[188] “Idle Mary”. See _Rhymes for the Nursery_. By the authors of _Original Poems_. London, Darton & Harvey. 1806.

[189] _Original Poems for Infant Minds._ By Several Young Persons. London, printed for Darton & Harvey. 1804. (7th edition). The authors were Ann and Jane Taylor and their friend Adelaide O’Keefe.

[190] “The Cow”, in _A Child’s Garden of Verses_, by R. L. Stevenson. 1885.

[191] “The Cow”, by Jane Taylor: the first piece in _Rhymes for the Nursery_.

[192] By Adelaide O’Keefe. Compare “The Wind” by R. L. S.

[193] Poems on “Fire”, “Air”, “Earth” and “Water”, by Ann Taylor. _Original Poems._ Vol. II.

[194] “The Yellow Leaf”, by Ann Taylor.

[195] See Appendix A. IX.

[196] _Poetry for Children_, “Entirely Original. By the Author of Mrs. Leicester’s School. In 2 Vols. 18 mo., ornamented with two beautiful Frontispieces. Price 1s. 6d. each, half-bound and lettered.” Published by Mrs. Godwin in 1809.

See Appendix A. IX.

[197] Printed for Thomas Hodgkins. London, 1805.

[198] See Appendix A. IX.

[199] “The Lame Brother” and “Nursing”.

[200] _Original Poems_, Vol I.

[201] See Appendix A. IX.

[202] “A Penny Plain and Twopence Coloured,” by R. L. S. _Memories and Portraits._ Paper XIII.

[203] _The Butterfly’s Ball and the Grasshopper’s Feast_, by Mr. Roscoe. Illustrated with Elegant Engravings. London, Printed for J. Harris, Successor to E. Newbery, at the Original Juvenile Library, the Corner of St. Paul’s Churchyard, 1807. Facsimile reprint, with introduction by Charles Welsh, Griffith and Farran, successors to Harris, 1883.

[204] Mulready, whose history was told in _The Looking-Glass_ (See below, Appendix A. VIII), was supposed to have drawn these illustrations in his childhood.

[205] For this and other sequels to _The Butterfly’s Ball_, see Appendix A. IX.

[206] _The Daisy; or, Cautionary Stories in Verse_, 1807.

_The Cowslip; or, More Cautionary Stories in Verse_, 1811.

For additions, reprints and imitations, see Appendix A. IX.

[207] _The Rose_, Containing Original Poems for Young People. By their friend Mary Elliott.

[208] From _Mamma’s Verses; or, Lines for Little Londoners_, said to have been suggested by _Original Poems_. Brentford, P. Norbury, n.d.

[209] See Appendix A. IX.

[210] See Appendix A. IX.

[211] See Appendix A. IX.

[212] See Appendix A. IX.