John Newbery’s Valentine’s Gift

A Book for Jennifer, (Cotsen 7267)

With this newspaper advertisement the legendary publisher John Newbery launched five new books in 1764, available to only the good children who called at his shop in St. Paul’s Churchyard:

The Philosophers, Politicians, Necromancers, and the Learned in every Faculty are desired to observe, that on the First of January, being New Year’s Day (Oh that we may all lead new Lives!) Mr. Newbery intended to publish the following important Volumes, bound and gilt…

  1. The Renowned History of Giles Gingerbread, a little Boy who lived upon Learning
  2. The Easter Gift; or the Way to be very good
  3. The Whitsuntide Gift, or the Way to be very happy
  4. The Valentine’s Gift, or how to behave with Honour, Integrity, and Humanity; Very useful in a trading Nation
  5. The Fairing; or a Golden Toy for Children of all Sizes and Denominations.

These books would sell on their strength as interventions in a social crisis.  Newbery declared in an essay to parents and governesses that “when all Complain of the Depravity of Human Nature, and the Degeneracy of the Present Age, any Design, that is calculated to mend the Heart and inforce a Contrary Conduct, must surely claim the Attention and Encouragement of the Public.”  The Valentine’s Gift, for example, encouraged that the celebration of the holiday be disassociated from the traditional gifting of ribbons, love knots, gloves, and stockings and restored to its original Christian purity.  According to some authorities, St. Valentine urged his followers to choose their partners by lot and devote themselves the next year to advising, not romancing them (today’s specialists point out there is no proof of this practice associated with the saint).

The author of The Valentine Gift laid out the new plan for honoring the day.   On Valentine’s Day morning, partners would be chosen randomly:  the first boy, girl, man, or woman a person saw would be the year’s companion for whom he or she would be responsible.  The couple would keep their running moral accounts in order with copies of Newbery’s Important Pocket-book, which contained a ledge to track expenses and behavior.  One of the stories in the volume, “A Remarkable Cure effected by the Valentine’s Ledger (i.e., the Pocket-book) showed how the inveterate liar Sally Brown, changed her ways after being turned out of her parents’ house, thanks to the gift of the book by the kind Mrs. Jewson.  A more interesting one revolved around a princess who was not especially pleased with her lower-class valentine, the palace mason.  When he uncovered a plot to assassinate her by wicked ministers, she discovered his true worth and that of having valentines for a year.

Of course, the book’s illustrations do not include any hearts or flowers.  The Renowned History of Giles Gingerbread was by far more popular than The Valentine’s Day Gift and its companion volumes.  It does have one claim to fame and that is the story of Old Zigzag,a predecessor of Dr. Dolittle. Mrs. Trimmer remembered Zigzag fondly as “the renowned translator of the language of Birds and Beasts, who in former days so successfully moved the hearts of Infancy for the distress of the animal world.”   With the help of a magic horn, Zigzag interviewed birds, insects, and mammals about their treatment at the hands of men.  So moved by what he heard, he may have destroyed the horn so that he would not have to listen to such terrible tales again.  But he might have left it to Mr. Newbery so their stories could be transcribed for little readers.

Newbery’s book does not appear to have pushed back the romantic observance of Valentine’ Day, but it was an early attempt to monetize the holiday by selling products, albeit ones to improve rather than gratify.

How to Dress the Emperor in His New Clothes

This is a delicate issue for any illustrator of Hans Christian Andersen’s sly tale, now so deeply embedded in the culture that it often passes as an anonymous folk classic.  To what extent should young readers be protected from the sight of the emperor’s nakedness?  But if they are shielded from any peep at the vain ruler’s embarrassing condition, can the story make an indelible impression?

Here are four radically solutions to the problem.

From Ardizzone’s Hans Andersen: Fourteen Classic Tales (1978) Cotsen 37999.

Edward Ardizzone drew him fully clothed in long woolly underwear, a full-bottomed wig, and bare feet at the head of a very long procession. It is hard to think of another outfit that undercuts royal majesty more ridiculously and also very conveniently spares the illustrator from answering awkward questions from the publisher.

Des Kaisers neue Kleider. Illustrated by Karl Lagerfeld (1992) Cotsen 19998.

Karl Lagerfeld, the celebrated fashion designer and longtime creative director of Chanel (aka “Kaiser Karl”) dressed his emperor in transparent underthings that cruelly expose his aging, stout body.  He could hardly be more repellent undressed.  The elderly Lagerfeld himself flamboyantly concealed the ravages of the years with outsized sunglasses, high starched collars, and fingerless gloves, topped by a mane of snow white hair.

Andersen Kalendar. Illustrated by Heinrich Lefler and Joseph Urban (1910). Cotsen 951.

Frequent collaborators Heinrich Lefler and Joseph Urban had their cake and ate it too in their sumptuous color illustration.  The splendidly dressed courtiers and attendants in the foreground nearly conceal their royal master, whose profile dominated by an outsized chin and Adam’s apple is at the dead center of the plate.  His straight black hair streaked with gray is covered by an enormous gold and scarlet imperial helm.  That is all he has on.  The ghostly pale shoulders and torso of the foolish old man beguiled by the trappings of his office, are thrown into relief by the robust young men surrounding him.

The Emperor’s New Clothes. Illustrated by Angela Barrett (1997) Cotsen 34676.

Angela Barrett breaks with tradition by representing the emperor as a young dandy.  Head held high, he marches down the street, with just a bit of bare chest showing.  He and his attendants may be engulfed by the tittering crowd, six or seven spectators deep, but almost nothing is left to the imagination because suspended overhead is an oval portrait of the striding monarch taken from behind.  Is the tall, slim man in elegant slippers a closet exhibitionist, or is he making the best of the situation in which he has landed by forging ahead instead of fleeing?

Each of the artist’s solutions to illustrating the emperor’s humiliation is so satisfying that it is difficult to say if one if better than the other three.  Why choose?