Cotsen Children’s Library

Envelope with Dickens’ signature in the bottom left corner and wave seal at back. [Autograph letter signed]. Broadstairs, 1843. (Cotsen 44006)

On September 16th, 1843, Charles Dickens wrote a letter to Angela Burdett-Coutts in Broadstairs, Kent. He opens the letter by remarking on his current progress writing Martin Chuzzlewit (which he would publish in monthly installments from January 1843 — July 1844). But the majority of the letter meditates on the condition of a particular Ragged school in London, probably the Field Lane Ragged School. Ragged schools were charitable organizations that offered free education for the destitute children of 19th Century England’s struggling working class. Often run by working class people in their own neighborhoods, the schools offered instruction during the evening, after the children had been working or begging during the day.

In the letter’s second paragraph Dickens describes the school he had visited a few days prior:

“On Thursday night, I went to the Ragged School; and an awful sight it is. I blush to quote Oliver Twist for an authority. . . The school is held in three most wretched rooms on the first floor of a rotten house: every plank, and timber, and brick, and lath, and piece of plaster in which, shakes as you walk. One room is devoted to the girls: two to the boys. The former are much the better-looking — I cannot say better dressed, for there is no such thing as dress among the seventy pupils; certainly not the elements of a whole suit of clothes, among them all. I have very seldom seen, in all the strange and dreadful things I have seen in London and elsewhere anything so shocking as the dire neglect of soul and body exhibited in these children. And although I know; and am as sure as it is possible for one to be of anything which has not happened; that in the prodigious misery and ignorance of the swarming masses of mankind in England, the seeds of its certain ruin are sown, I never saw that Truth so staring out in hopeless characters, as it does from the walls of this place. The children in the Jails are almost as common sights to me as my own; but these are worse, for they have not arrived there yet, but are as plainly and certainly travelling there, as they are to their Graves…” [pages 1-2]

From this heartwarming opening, Dickens continues to explain the poor physical condition of the school, the struggles of its young inhabitants and teachers, their devotion to prayer and knowledge of God, and its significant lack of funding.

Why mention all this to his dear friend Angela you might ask? Well, for one thing, she happens to be popularly known as “the richest heiress in England”. In 1822 Angela Burdett-Coutts became one of the wealthiest women in England after inheriting £1.8 million pounds sterling from her grandfather, Thomas Coutts, founder of the banking house of Coutts & Co.

Towards the closing of the letter then, its purpose becomes quite clear:

“I need not say, I am sure, that I deem it an experiment most worthy of your charitable hand.” [page 8]

The entreatment would prove fruitful. To show his gratitude, Dickens would dedicate the 1844 monograph of Martin Chuzzlewit to Miss Burdett-Coutts herself. A prodigious philanthropist, Burdett-Coutts would work with Dickens on a number of charitable enterprises untill his death in 1870. Famously, the pair would found the Urania Cottage, a home for young women who had “turned to a life of immorality”, in 1847.

In the last paragraph of the letter Dicken’s explains that he will soon be leaving for a visit to the Manchester Athenaeum. In Edgar Johnson’s exhaustive biography: Charles Dickens: His Tragedy and Triumph, Johnson explains that this visit, and the audience that Dickens would encounter there, would provide the author with his inspiration for perhaps, his most well known work: A Christmas Carol (see Johnson, page 254).

For your enjoyment and perusal (hoping your 19th Century English paleography is up to snuff) the letter is reproduced below:

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Dicken’s signature

Find the baby on the close stool! From the manuscript by A. B., “The Life of a Baby.” [England], ca. 1839. (Cotsen 46434).

In theory and practice, the non-fiction picture book can play an important teaching skills and competencies in a concrete way. Picture books have been drafted into the late twentieth-century campaign to make the critical transition from messy blithe incontinence to conscious, hygienic elimination trauma-free. While it no longer seems desirable to motivate gaining control over bodily functions by associating it with shame or guilt, the attempt to be upbeat about a semi-taboo subject can be interesting.

Japanese author-illustrator Taro Gomi took a strictly factual approach: every living thing eats, so we’re one big happy family when it comes to getting rid of the by-products. First published as part of the “Masterpieces of the Friends of Science” series in 1977, the English-language translation rights to Minna uchi were acquired by Kane/Miller in 1993. Gomi’s truthful but slyly humorous approach caused a stir when Everyone Poops came out in the United States, but once the initial shock wore off, it become something of a cult classic. Cotsen has the English- and Chinese-language translations, but not the Japanese original.

Double-page spread from Taro Gomi, Everyone Poops. Translated by Amanda Mayer Stinchecum, Brooklyn, NY: Kane/Miller, 18th printing, c1993. (Cotsen 24016)

When Israeli writer Alonah Frankel was a young mother with a son, she wrote a book to help other parents toilet-train their boys. The first of her many children’s books in Hebrew, “Sir ha- Sirim” [The Potty of Potties] became an instant best-seller in Israel when published in 1975. It was issued in 1980 under the title Once Upon a Potty in the United States and after that went on to find an international audience. In the 1990s, the version for girls, audible, audio-tape, and cartoon versions have bolstered sales in the US. Written from the point of view of the mother, who has to do the dirty work, she nicely but firmly demonstrates all the steps in the process.

What’s going to happen next? Alonah Frankel, Sir ha-Sirim [The Potty of Potties]. Tel Aviv: Masadah, 1984, 18th printing. (Cotsen 7519)

A friend gave Mr. Cotsen a copy of the original Hebrew-language book and his note explains something important that was lost in English translation.

Note to Mr. Cotsen laid into Cotsen 7519.

But Gomi and Frankel aren’t to everyone’s taste. Some people are more comfortable with a less clinical approach, and lots of authors and illustrators have risen to the occasion. The most obvious ploy is to let a cute baby animal stand in for the nah-saying toddler. Little bear Bartholomew feels pangs of distress after running out to play without going first like his George daddy bear suggested. I refuse to believe that the choice of a bear cub alludes to the well-known and slightly rude rhetorical question meaning, “It sure do!” to cheer on discouraged parents.

From the board book version of On Your Potty! by Virginia Miller. Cambridge, Mass.: Candlewick Press, 2000. (Cotsen 87638)

What if a writer tries to convince the unwilling party that a toilet is a perfectly designed object for the use of human beings by showing why no other animal could find it convenient?

Andrea Wayne von Konigslow, Toilet Tales. Willowdale, Ontario: Annick Press, c.1987, 5th edition 1990. Gift of Jeffrey P. Barton. (Cotsen 7665968)

I happen to think this is pretty funny, but it’s easy to imagine von Konigslow’s whimsical strategy backfiring with a child who believes there are monsters under his bed. After looking at this opening, the suggestible pre-schooler might come to the sensible conclusion that there are really nasty things in the plumbing that might surface in the toilet at any time hunting for something tender to nibble. So why would you sit on it ever?

Alternative uses for the spurned potty chair.

One of the best-known euphemisms for the toilet seems to have inspired Tony Ross to create a toilet-training picture book that is much more imaginative than practical. A toddler princess (crown, but no frilly dress) who wants to get rid of her nappies puts up quite a fuss when the Queen Mummy tells her “The potty’s the place.” But the gist of the story is how the princess’s request for her plastic throne throws the court into hysterics…

Tony Ross, I Want My Potty. London: Andersen Press, c.1986 (Cotsen 86775). I assume the “L” stands for “loo.”

Some authors would rather bring to life the comic dimensions of the battle between generations during toilet training instead of offering tips. Littlesaurus leaves piles of poop everywhere in defiance of his elders’ efforts to civilize him, singing an obnoxious ditty to celebrate his independence. Finally his exasperated Daddysaurus yells he doesn’t care if Littlesaurus ever uses the potty, so the contrarian dino decides to give it a try, only to be caught in the act and given a taste of his own medicine by his beloved family…

Revenge is sweet… Colin MacNaughton, Potty Poo-Poo Wee-Wee! Cambridge, MA: Candlewick Press, 2005 (Cotsen). Would a publisher have touched this manuscript if the characters had been human beings?

In researching this post, I’ve come to the conclusion that the collection needs more specimens of this underappreciated genre of picture book to more fully document a) modern anxieties about toilet-training and b) portable potty design.

A tasteful tailpiece.

Cotsen Children’s Library

Princeton University

Charles Dickens Describes a Ragged School to Angela Burdett-Coutts

Bestsellers: Picture Books for Potty Training