Author Archives: Andrea Immel

Readers Respond to Peter Parley’s Feature “The Odd Picture:”  What Was It?

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Photograph of Samuel Griswold Goodrich editor of Parley's Magazine Samuel Griswold Goodrich (1793-1860), posed this question to the little subscribers of his Parley’s Magazine in 1835:

What’s here? some of my young readers will probably say…and no Wonder.  But instead of answering them…I shall only return the question: What is it?

Will you not try?—If you can write me about it, please to be very particular…. Let me see, how good your eyes are, and how well you have learned to study pictures.

P.A.C. wrote to Peter Parley in the next issue:Man sitting on chest with dead monkey at his feet.Although I am afraid I shall not make a very good story, I will try to do my best…. There appears to be a young man in prison, and his only companion, a monkey, lies dead before him, on the floor.  At one side of him, it seems as if there was a pile of apples, which I supposed had had for his monkey to eat; and he appears to be sitting on a chest, in which he may keep his clothes.—I should be glad to know if prisons are useful, and what they can be for?

Without making one comment on the young lady’s interpretation of the odd picture, Griswold launched into an explanation of why prisons failed to reform inmates.  He seems not to have considered that his reply might discourage children from submitting their ideas…   It was a stroke of luck that a school teacher in Portland, Maine, sent along six of her pupils’ attempts to make sense of the picture in their weekly writing assignment, which Griswold ran in the next number.

Portland Pupil no. 3 had a more active imagination than P.A.C.:

Blue Beard handing a key to his wife by Gustave Dore

The resemblance is slight…

I think this singular man looks something like Blue Beard. Or it may be an invalid, who is put in the hospital, and has a great deal of money; and does not know what to do with it.

At his feet there is something like a monkey dressed in clothes, or it may be a child.  He may, too, be a robber, who has got into a house, and stolen some money; and he did not like to leave the child at home, so he took it with him.  Then perhaps the house heard some one, and they found the man and child and locked him up during the night so as to keep him; and so he feels very  unhappy about it.  The child might have said something he did not like, and so he chained them to the floor.  It may be a slave who is going to be sold at auction, and they have put him there to keep him from running away.

Unable to decide if the man was Blue Beard, an invalid, or a robber or if the figure at his feet was a child, a monkey, or a slave, no. 3 was clear that whoever they were, they were unhappy being held against their wills (or dead, in the case of the child/monkey/slave).

Portland Pupil no. 4  saw money everywhere, which meant the man had to be a miser—unless he was a robber who took the child (or monkey) hostage:

Miser counting money on his desk

Seems unlikely…

I think the picture represents a miser, who has a great deal of money, and has shut himself up in a dungeon and feels very unhappy.  There is something lying at his feet which looks very much like a child, or a monkey.  Or he may  be a robber, and has stolen the money and taken the child so that he may not be found out.  He looks as if he was sitting on a chest, which may be money; and that which likes on the side of him may be money.

Portland Pupil no. 2 concurred that the figure might be a miser, seated on a chest of gold and bags of gold to one side.  Unless he happened to be a showman with his monkey, a sailor seated on a bird cage, or a smuggler.  No. 2 was the only one to suggest the man was seated on the pavement underneath a building with windows.  The  board in the window might reflect a European custom of “hanging out of the window a board with written characters on it when any one of their relations or friends are dead, I think this board may be hung out for this purpose.”

A robber would have plumes in the man’s hat, opined Portland Pupil no. 4, which would also  explain the presence of a locked chest with the symbols for pounds and pence written upon it. The pile of stuff against the wall could be money, but was more likely “provisions.”  A robber would be likely to store his plunder in a dungeon and imprison a child there.

Of all the Portland Pupils, no. 1 teased out the greatest number of meanings with the least confidence:Man sitting on chest with dead monkey at his feet.Studying a picture, is a subject with which I am very little acquainted.  I shall not therefore compose a very correct piece.  I think the picture looks something like a man put in a cell, for punishment—a robber or a murderer—who may be going to kill that person, who lies at his feet, in order to get the money, which seems to be scattered around him.  The one at his feet in dress, resembles an Indian, and his head, resembles that of a monkey.  Were there any instruments there, I should come to the conclusion that murder was his object.  In some respects he looks like a miser.  Those bags and the chest may contain money, but I think it rather doubtful.  Some might think it was a robber, in  a cavern, who has been stealing, and that person at his feet has detected him, and for fear he should expose him, is going to put an end to his life.  Whether this is an idol, or a human being, I do not know.  He looks very sober, but he may be thinking of some way of escape.  And again, it looks like a Pirate, who having murdered all the crew, with the exception of the one at his feet, and having taken the money from the vessel, has retired into a cave or cavern, and is thinking of some way of secreting it, and passing away unobserved.  Which is the most likely, I will leave the reader to decide.

No consensus was reached beyond Portland Pupils’ intuitions that the scene was dark and the man’s calling made it likely that he was up to no good.  Their interpretations of the picture suggest the Gothic-tinged adventure stories devoured outside of class may caused them to read the picture as more exciting that it was.  I thought it might be a picture of a young organ grinder seated on his instrument, mourning the death of his animal.  That kind of street performer often wore a fancy hat…Italian organ grinder and monkeyAnd the editor’s opinion of “The Odd Picture?”  On p. 279 of part X, he offered this explanation without any assurance that it was authoritative:

I think the object lying on the floor or pavement cannot be a child or an Indian; but is most evidently a monkey.  The boy or young man does not seem to be a miser, for he is too well dressed; nor do I see anything that looks like money.  He seems rather, to be some eccentric (odd) young man—perhaps a sort of hermit in a lonely, though not mean habitation—(possibly he is in prison)—whose only companion a monkey, has just died; and he is mourning his loss.  He probably dressed him in this way sometimes to suit his own fancy.  The pile of something at the man’s right hand, I think must be fruit for the monkey to eat.

Griswold turned this into an opportunity to invite readers to write in about a new picture:

More than a hundred scholars, I dare say,–certainly a very large number—wrote down their thoughts about the picture of the boy and the monkey.  Though this picture is not so curious as that…it will afford all our young readers an excellent subject in composition, if their teachers are willing they should write on it.  And if they are not, you can write at home.

If his selection of pictures had been as fascinating as the illustrations for the columns on his first loves, natural history and science, perhaps the feature would have continued beyond the 1835-6 volume….Staghorn beetle.

 

What Future Presidents Read: Little John Quincy Adams and “Giles Gingerbread”

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Portrait of John Quincy Adams, 5th president of the USA.In  What The Presidents Read, Liz Goodenough and Marilyn Olson wondered:

A childhood book is much more than just a story—for presidents, it may represent a turn in the course of history.  Did John F. Kennedy’s early love of Billy Whiskers, a goat who roved the United States bashing down doors and anyone in uniform, help pave his road to Camelot?  The favorite readings of presidents can shape a generation, rising in stature like national legends or be completely forgotten.

Almost completely forgotten is the penny pamphlet Renowned History of Giles Gingerbread, a little Boy Who Lived on Learning, a particular favorite of our fifth president, John Quincy Adams.  It was first published in London by John Newbery in 1767.  Perhaps five London editions issued between 1764 and 1782 exist; the survival rate is a little higher for reprints by provincial and American printers. The text was illustrated with sixteen wood cuts–one every other page, which was very generous for such a cheap pamphlet—and they illustrated specific passages in the text.  The publisher’s binding would have been Dutch floral gilt wrappers.  The pretty paper branded those books as appropriate for younger readers.

Title page spread of the penny pamphlet for children The Renowned History of Giles Gingerbread with a frontispiece of the character Gaffer Gingerbread holding up a gingerbread hornbook.Abigail Adams, the mother of the future sixth president, John Quincy Adams,  said he could recite it from memory.   We don’t know how old her boy was when he performed this feat because she mentioned it in a letter written when John was grown up.  The anecdote is still solid gold because evidence about the reading of very young children is hard to come by, even in families in which the parents were highly involved in their children’s education. The Adamses thought a lot about their boys’ reading and Abigail sent amusing stories about their progress.  John might write back with a message, like this one for John Quincy: “Tell him I am glad to hear he is so good a Boy as to read to his Mamma for her Entertainment and to keep himself out of the company of rude children.”

For an easy reader, The Renowned History of Giles Gingerbread was rather unusual and it seemed peculiarly suited to make an impression on John Quincy.  Its contents were miscellaneous, but not divided up into sections of instruction and reading passages.  In fact, it contained no direct instruction such as syllablaries.  Could certain ideas in the bookseller’s preface caught Abigail’s eye?

The Reader perhaps may be so unreasonable as to expect an Account of the Birth, Parentage and country of our Hero.  If he does, I can assure him he will be disappointed.  There are circumstances which he has no Right to be informed of; for a good Man may be born any how; and anywhere; of any Parents, and in any Country…If a Man is a good Man and an honest Man, it is no Matter where he was born, and if those we have lately made such a Noise about Country and Party to Gaffer Gingerbread, he would have knocked their Heads together for being such boobies.Little boy hitching a ride on the rear wheels of a coach with a man riding inside.The pamphlet’s heart is the exemplary story of Gaffer Gingerbread’s son Giles.   When the little ragged boy jumps on the back of Sir Toby Thompson’s coach. his father calls him over, not because it was dangerous but because “You want to get up to the coach, but you are climbing at the wrong place, Giles; you should endeavor to get in at the door.” But poor folks can’t do that, protests Giles. Not true, says his father: “A poor man or a poor boy may get a coach, if he will endeavor to deserve it.  Merit and Industry may intitle a Man to anything.

He explains to tells Giles how little Toby rose above his station. through hard work, strict honesty, and attention to his master’s interests to become a wealthy man with a fine coach Two jockeys riding horses in a race. (this is an example of John Newbery’s “coach and six morality).  When the merchant Mr. Goodwill saw how carefully Toby babysat his siblings, while his mother was off working, he sent him to school to learn to read and write, then brought him to London as a servant. Unfortunately, Mr. Goodwill paid more attention to race horses than his business and left himself open to fraud.  After Giles discovered that a fellow servant had robbed their master, he informed Goodwill in an anonymous letter because it was his duty towards the man who had been a second father to him.  When Giles revealed himself as the letter’s author, Goodwill was so grateful that Toby was made his business partner and heir to his fortune.

With the story ringing in his ears, Giles begs his father to teach him to read so he too can become a great man.  Being the son of a gingerbread baker who sold useful knowledge by the pound, he had easy access to the traditional educational aides of gingerbread alphabet letters and hornbooks mentioned in works by Matthew Prior, Thomas Tickell, and Tobias Smollett. Gaffer Gingerbread giving his son Giles a reading lesson under a tree. Perching Giles on his lap, Gaffer Gingerbread took out of his pocket a gingerbread alphabet. To draw Giles into the task, his father exclaims that “all the Words in the World” can be made with these 24 letters.  When Giles laughs in disbelief, his father demonstrates the truth of the proposition by spelling a short and a long word, then letting Giles try his hand.  Giles gleefully runs through the letters in a little alliterative prose poem: “Mr. B, I should be a Blockhead if I did not know you—C, C, C, I shall know you Mr. C indeed, and so will every Boy that loves Custard—D, D, D, Drum and Dumpling will make me know you Mr. D.—E, E, E, Eggs and Eel Pye forever.” When Giles named the gingerbread letter, his father gave him permission to eat and that is how he “lived on learning.”

Giles Gingerbread walking outside reading from his gingerbread hornbook.Obedience, not rewards of food, was Giles’ true motivation to learn.  His father’s wish was his command, whether it was putting the escaped pig back in the style or learning the lesson set for him. This, the narrator observes, was critical to his subsequent success. With his feet set on the right path by his gaffer, Giles soon attracts the attention of Sir Toby Thompson, who takes him to London in his coach.  “We have heard nothing of him,” says the narrator, but his father declares that he is sure Giles will behave so well as to get Coach of his own.” Gaffer the small businessman understood as clearly as John Adams the value of education.  The child who learned to read, acquired the habits of obedience, hard work, and scrupulous honesty would accumulate a degree of merit that would inspire confidence and trust in worthy people.

In spite of the disparity in social circumstances, littIe John Quincy may have identified more closely with Giles than Dick Whittington, thrice lord mayor of London.  With no father to guide him, the orphan Dick, knew to obey his master and the cruel cook who ordered him perform the dirty work in the scullery. But luck was a more powerful factor in Dick’s rise than love of learning or hard work.  He gives his only possession, the cat who has kept the vermin population down in his room, hoping to make a return on the investment when his master’s ship comes home. It was the steward’s bright idea to present Puss to the foreign king and queen to destroy all the vermin which overran their dinner every night, there being no mousers there.  The royals pay the steward handsomely for the cat and he turns over the money to Dick.  Would he have been more displeased than delighted by Perrault’s  Master Cat, who pulls strings so that his penniless owner marries the king’s daughter without proving anything beyond he was very handsome.

At age ten, John Quincy gave his opinion of the picaresque novel Bamfylde Moore Carew to his father.  The rogue Moore was a hero to many boys, but not John Quincy–what he liked best was the travel writing.  He had internalized his father’s high-mindedness by scorning injustice, ingratitude, cowardice, and falsehood.   John Quincy was a chip off the “old iceberg” and of old Gaffer Gingerbread.