B. C. Faust’s Catechism of Health (1794): “Children, Brandy Is a Bad Liquor!”

Catechism of Health

Catechism of Health. London: C. Dilly, 1794. (Cotsen 153738)

In 1794 Bernard Christian Faust (1755-1842), the court physician in the German principality of Schaumberg-Lippe, published  a book designed to teach children the principles of healthy living.  Its title was Gesundheits Katechismus zu Gebrauche in den Schulen und beym häuslichen Unterrichte.  The same year it was translated into English by John Henry Basse under the title A Catechism of Health.  A Dublin edition also came out in 1794.  An Edinburgh edition was issued in 1797 with a commendation by the eminent physician James Gregory as the best extant popular work of medicine he had seen.   The translation also quickly found a receptive public in America.

Cotsen has just acquired a copy of the first English translation.  It is illustrated with the frontispiece of a boy wearing what looks like a long night shirt.  A garment like this, Faust contended, was less confining and better for growing bodies than the usual corseted bodice and skirts.  He claimed that “The body will become healthier, stronger, taller, and more beautiful; children will learn the best and most graceful attitudes; and will feel themselves very well and happy in this simple and free garment.”

frontispiece of a boy wearing what looks like a long night shirt

Faust had equally strong opinions about what children should eat and drink.  Or not drink. Notice that Faust drops the question-and-answer format the better to deliver a lecture to children about the dangers of consuming strong spirits.  His vehemence on the subject of alcohol makes one wonder just  how widespread underage drinking was during the late Enlightenment…

Catechism of Health excerptCatechism of Health excerptHere is an excerpt from the section on brandy:

Some of Faust’s other recommendations seem downright peculiar today.  For example, he did not consider potatoes nutritious, cautioning his readers that “when eaten too often, or immoderately, prove hurtful to health, and to the mental faculties.” But undoubtedly plenty of advice in twenty-first century books on childcare and parenting that will strike later generations as just as ill-informed or quixotic!

Catechism of Health excerpt

Marks in Books #4: Graffito in The Child’s New Play-Thing.

Moseley's frontispiece of the future George III.

Moseley’s frontispiece of the future George III. The Child’s New Play-Thing. London: T. Cooper, 1742 (Cotsen 34058)

An eighteenth-century writer could try to realize some cash by dedicating a work to an important person, who might return the favor with some remuneration.  Perhaps the anonymous author of the innovative speller, The Child’s New Play-Thing (London: T. Cooper, 1742), was angling for a teaching appointment when he dedicated it to little George, the son of Frederick, Prince of Wales (1709-1751).

A portrait engraved by Charles Moseley of the future George III (1738-1820) in a jaunty tricorne faced the third edition’s title page.  Holding a rose, an emblem of the youth’s brevity, the stolid boy is the picture of solemn innocence.  At the time around four years of age, little George was still wearing skirts and would not be breeched for another  two or three years, as was usual in the days before the invention of the washing machine or of disposable diapers (the reasons don’t need to be detailed here).

George as reimagined as a bearded lady by a child-artist?

George as reimagined as a bearded lady by a child-artist? The Child’s New Play-Thing. London: M. Cooper, 1745 (Cotsen 26950)

Being in skirts hardly granted immunity from the slings and arrows of disgruntled subjects if one happened to be second in line of succession to the British throne,  as was the little prince.   Long before George was crowned, plagued by his unruly brood of sons, and finally incapacitated by porphyria, he was disrespected by the unruly pen of a peer.

In the Cotsen copy of the 3rd edition of The Child’s New Play-Thing (1745), a previous owner traced the prince’s image in reverse on the frontispiece’s recto, adding scraggly whiskers and body parts (which look suspiciously female) the bodice is supposed to cover.  The amateurish quality of the drawing suggests a child’s hand and perhaps that of a child from a family that hoped for the triumph of the Young Pretender, Prince Charles Edward Stuart in the 1745 Jacobite rebellion (the year the 3rd edition of The Child’s New Play-Thing was published) that was eventually quelled by George II’s son, William, Duke of Cumberland.

Hogarth's homage to children's "art" on The Analysis of Beauty

Hogarth’s homage to children’s “art” on The Analysis of Beauty

But of course the defacement of the little prince’s portrait may not be a youthful expression of disloyalty against the Hanovers (as tempting as it is to jump to conclusions).  It may be nothing more profound than the tell-tale sign of the childish urge to doodle on any flat surface whether on paper or walls–an urge that William Hogarth must have known very well as a boy himself, having immortalized it in the lower right hand corner of the frontispiece to The Analysis of Beauty or in the foreground of “The First Stage of Cruelty.”