Illustrating Summertime in Children’s Books

Little Tot's Holiday Book (Warne: not before 1881) Cotsen 30357

Little Tot’s Holiday Book (Warne & Co.: ca. 1881) Cotsen 30357.

As the days of summer dwindle into a precious few, the long days of sunshine slowly get shorter, and a new school term impends, we all tend to wonder: “Where did the summer go?”

With that thought in mind, we might help keep summer alive a little longer by taking a look at how children’s book illustrators picture summer and its activities.

It certainly didn’t take children’s books to make school kids (and the rest of us) love the prospect of having time off from school and being able to enjoy all the activities available for a few precious months a year. But nineteenth-century books for children certainly stressed summertime fun and vividly pictured outdoor activities, some relatively ‘novel’ ones at the time, such as beach holidays at newly-popular (and accessible) ocean-side resorts. As such, they provide a terrific window onto life and leisure-time activities at the time.

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Children at the shore (detail from Little Tot’s Holiday Book).

Frederick Warne & Co., one of the major nineteenth-century publishers of children’s books readily added “holiday” books picturing seasonal and summertime fun to its line of books. The large format (over 12″ tall) picture book Little Tot’s Holiday Book features vivid, full-page chromolithographed illustrations of children in all sorts of holiday activities (including some in winter). The bright red cloth front cover features a paper onlay of two Victorian children at a seaside locale. Note their fashionable, but modest, attire, fairly typical for the time.

“A Holiday at the Seaside.”

One of the illustrations inside the book shows children happily engaged in a range of contemporary seaside activities: playing on the beach and making sandcastles, taking donkey rides, and riding in a goat cart. I like the background detail of “On the Sands,” which shows a Brighton-like pleasure pier, one of the “novel” aspects of Victorian seaside resorts.

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“Off to the Seashore”…via train.

Another full-page illustration features a train. While trains were always popular with children, particularly boys, why does a train appear in a holiday book? The answer lies in the caption: “off to the seashore.” Trains were a relatively novel form of transportation at this time, and one of the ways that middle-class and more prosperous working-class families went to the seashore in the 1880s.

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Little Tot’s Holiday Book, alternate cover – Cotsen 30357 (c.2)

Little Tot’s Holiday was apparently a popular title, because Warne issued another version of the same title, with identical content, but a different cover, one showing a very different kind of summertime activity. Again, two fashionable and apparently affluent children (similar to the book’s target audience) are featured, but this time they’re presented in a rural setting, getting donkey rides from a young adult from the country (note, his mustache and “rural” attire).

Warne’s picture books repeatedly show children at the seaside, attesting to the popularity of the subject.  Another large-format picture book, Little Tots Playtime Book includes an illustration of a girl on a donkey, a sailor-suited boy, and the family dog on the beach, with sailboats in the background and a nearby patriotic Union Jack, which breaks the perfect (“boring”?) symmetry of the rectangular frame and creates visual interest via a technique sometimes used by painters.

At the seashore again… (Little Tots Playtime Book, ca. 1881) Cotsen 30359

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Cover of Little Tots Playtime Book

The general design of the Playtime Book’s cloth cover is essentially the same as that of the Holiday Book (perhaps this was Warne’s stock design for these picture books?), but the inset chromolithographed medallion provides quite a different, more formal and stylized, view of little women in summertime — a somewhat Kate “Greenawayesque” presentation.

Cover of Kate Greenaway’s Book of Games, (Routledge & Co., ca. 1899) Cotsen 5633

Speaking of Kate Greenaway (whose presentations of children are famous), let’s take a quick look at how she pictures summer in Kate Greenaway’s Book of Games, issued by by George Routledge & Sons in 1889 (and later reissued by Warne in 1899). The cover shows a vignette of children on a rustic teeter-totter. The twenty-four colored wood-engraved illustrations by Edmund Evans show children in Greenaway distinctive style: extremely well-dressed, fashionable, and not very kinetic. The two illustrations below present several girls in caps playing “Battledore & Shuttlecock” (“badminton” to us now) and “Puss in the Corner,” both accompanied by brief descriptions of the games.

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“Battledore & Shuttlecock”

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“Puss in the Corner”

 

 

 

 

 

 

I wouldn’t want to give you the impression that summertime and beaches are featured only in English books for children — that was definitely not the case! For instance, a German book, In Sommer, from about 1900 features a terrific, highly-saturated color depiction of children playing on the beach on its cover. And illustrations inside the book show children busily involved in other summer activities: flying kites, picking flowers, and making quite a fuss over an apple!

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In Sommer: quite a fuss about an apple in the woods on a bright summer day

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In Sommer: Children and their kites, including the “Man-in-the Moon” and giant clown face

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Children on the beach: cover of In Sommer, ([Germany? ca. 1900]) Cotsen 52215

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another terrific book cover appears on Johnny Headstrong’s Trip to Coney Island, published about 1882 by New York’s McLoughlin Brothers, perhaps the preeminent children’s books publisher in the USA at the time. In the 1880s, Coney Island was a seaside resort for residents of New York City and Brooklyn Heights, a place reached by train and with the same sort of summery, festive ambience as Cape May or Cape Cod, if you can imagine that. The chromolithographed cover of this “toybook” presents an idyllic beach scene via illustrator William Bruton’s artwork, although something in Johnny’s own facial expression suggests another strand in the thread of the story…

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Johnny Headstong’s Trip to Coney Island (McLoughlin Bros, ca. 1882) Cotsen 540

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Johnny arrives at Coney Island with his family (note the masted sailing ships in the background)

Johnny Headstong’s story begins in much the same way as the other summertime books we’ve been looking at – a fashionable youth sets out for the Coney Island seaside resort accompanied by his sister, nanny, and father, a “kindly man of good repute…and wealth.”

But as his name suggests, Johnny is impulsive and lacking in self-discipline — he gets into all sorts of trouble… He climbs over the railing while sailing a toy sailboat, falls into a pool, and has to be fished out. He then “slips away” from the adults “to see things by himself.” More trouble ensues in the form of various misadventures, as Johnny hits another boy in the face with a ball, falls off a swing he pushed too high, and finds himself on a runaway donkey, causing mayhem on the beach and knocking over an apple-seller (as Bruton’s double-page illustration vividly shows). Eventually, covered in bandages, Johnny winds up back home, where his father admonishes: “You see what comes to heedless boys, whene’er they disobey.”

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Bruton’s double-page illustration of Johnny Headstrong on the pony causing mayhem

So McLoughlin’s Brothers’ rendition of this “summertime story” is really one of the “cautionary tales” inspired by Heinrich Hoffmann’s Struwwelpeter for which the firm was famous: stories showing kids “acting badly” and suffering the consequences. Some of their other classics in this vein have titles like: Little Suck-a-Thumb, Naughty Girls, Lazy Sam, Inky Jake, Foolish Fanny, Paulina Pry, and Moping Mary. After all, “to please and instruct” was the company motto, even during summer vacation!

Enjoy more summer at the virtual exhibition on swimming!

Retelling Aesop’s Fables: From Beatrix Potter to Jerry Pinkney

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Francis Barlow’s famous frontispiece of the hunchbacked slave Aesop surrounded by his characters for the 1687 London edition of Aesop’s Fables.

Some stories are so good  that they are reimagined every generation.  As a kind of twice-told tale, the fable can be quite difficult to make one’s own: the plot unfolds rapidly in very few words and realizing the action in more than one illustration is not always an option.  But writers and  illustrators have risen to the challenge of retelling Aesopian fables in strikingly different ways, sometimes changing quite radically the traditional themes and characterizations.

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Beatrix Potter as a young woman.

Beatrix Potter’s fable retellings are among the best in English literature, but due to complicated circumstances, only The Tale of Johnny Town Mouse (1917) was published during her lifetime.  In 1919 Potter proposed to her publisher Fruing Warne that she work up a series of  connected fables begun years before.  Fruing did not mince words about the draft of The Tale of the Birds and Mr. Tod :   “It is not Miss Potter, it is Aesop.”   The firm’s commercial travelers wanted something new by Potter, so naturally his concern was sales, not supporting an author who wanted to strike out in a new direction. Even if Potter had not been frustrated by Fruing’s lack of enthusiasm, her eyes were no longer sharp enough to draw all the illustrations.  No one’s heart was in it, so the volume was abandoned.  The drafts and preliminary illustrations were published posthumously by Leslie Linder in The History of the Writings of Beatrix Potter (1971).

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Jemima earnestly conversing with the foxy gentleman. Beatrix Potter, The Tale of Jemima Puddleduck (1908).

Fruing did wish her retelling of ‘The Fox and the Crow” long enough to fill a little book.  Potter had brought back the foxy whiskered gentleman (aka Mr. Tod) who almost succeeded in making dinners of the foolish Jemima Puddleduck,  her nest of eggs, and the careless Flopsy Bunnies at different times.

Looking for his next meal, he spies Miss Jenny Crow perched in a tree, trying to manage the large chunk of cheese she stole from a farm boy’s dinner basket.   Seeing an easy opportunity for dinner, Mr. Tod appeals to Jenny’s  vanity, calling her an  “adorable smutty Venus,” “a beautiful black lady bird elegant as a newly tarred railing” whose grace outshines the black swans of Tasmania.   His extravagant compliments make Jenny so nervous that she sidles up and down the branch, but without loosening her grip on the cheese.  Of course the fox wears her down.   When he exclaims that her voice must be “as sweet as a nightingale’s,”  she croaks and he realizes she is weakening.  He calls out, “She sings, she sings, louder, sweet sky lark”  and Jenny drops her guard, opens her  bill to caw, and drops the cheese into the foxy gentleman’s mouth.   He laughs until he cries and takes “no further notice of poor silly Miss Crow.  He had got what he wanted.”

Perhaps Potter as a woman should have been less tolerant of Mr. Tod’s wiles…  But she is hardly the only female reteller of “The Fox and Crow” who won’t take the crow’s side.  Lisbeth Zwerger draws the picture from the crow’s point of view, but the fox’s mock-serious gesture down on the ground expresses more amusement than disapproval in his hypocrisy.  There is no doubt who is going to triumph.

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From “The Fox and the Crow,” Aesop’s Fables Selected and Illustrated by Lisbeth Zwerger. (New York/London: NorthSouth Books, 2006), p. 21.

Barbara McClintock ‘s lady crow, on the other hand, wears a dainty blue gown, red shawl, poke bonnet, and slippers, which makes her look even more ridiculous when she throws a tantrum after losing out to the leering fox…  Maybe vanity rather than gender is the fable’s point–so why couldn’t the roles be reassigned so that a foxy lady outwits a preening lad?

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From “The Fox and the Crow.” Animal Fables from Aesop Adapted and Illustrated by Barbara McClintock (Boston: David Godine, 2012), p. 5.

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From “The Fox and the Crow.” Animal Fables Adapted and Illustrated by Barbara McClintock, p. 6.

Potter titled her version of “The Ant and the Grasshopper” “Grasshopper Belle and Susan Emmet.”   As tough-minded as La Fontaine’s “Le cigale et la formi,” “Grasshopper Belle” is one of the most powerful stories Potter wrote.  The main character is the  industrious ant Susan in a rusty black gown and black net cap, a “notable good housekeeper” like Mrs. Tittlemouse with “cupboards of spotless linen” and fully furnished storerooms with sacks and bags floor to ceiling.

A miserly soul, Susan works incessantly through the sunny summer months and has to go back and forth by the merry grasshoppers.  Grasshopper Belle all “in green satin with pink sleeves and gauzy wings” has the lightest foot of all and dances to the gentlemen fiddling “Sing leader, needle, treadle, wheedle, wheadle, sudle, chirr, whirr, whirr, oh, who is so fine, in silver gossamer as Grasshopper Belle?”  Loaded down with a heavy sack, Susan hisses  at them, “Vanity of vanity, disgusting idleness,” but they invite her to dance a turn to their music anyway.  Not that she does.  Nor will she stop when Belle offers to lull her to sleep–no, Susan must get home before the rain, to which  Belle trills, “Home, my home is in the barley grass, no cellars for me, come upon the grass stalk and watch the sun slip behind a cloud.”

Susan does get home just as the thunderstorm breaks.  At dawn the driving rain begins, turning to sleet by evening.  Susan sits contentedly by the fire sewing, ignoring the rattling latch and cries of “Susan Emmet, Susan Emmet, let me in.”   When the voice begs, “Let me in, let me in, I am dying, Susan Emmett,” the ant decides it is nothing more than the bitter cold wind.  While the ant is eating dinner, the latch rattles yet again and the voice calls out weakly to her.  Susan clears the table, thinking to herself, “She has had her lesson, I suppose I must let her in; she can sleep on the door mat.”  When she opens the door and looks out into the dark, “Grasshopper Belle lay dead on the doorstep.”

Would many American parents would consider reading Potter’s dark, but heartbreaking retelling of “The Ant and the Grasshopper”  to their children?  Two recent picture book versions, in which the fable has been recast as a tribute to the power of music, is probably much more in tune with the today’s sensibilities (and in line with recommendations of educators and social psychologists).  The father-daughter team of Rebecca  and Ed Emberley imagine the ant anxiously pushing a slice of watermelon back to the nest on a hot, hot summer  day.

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Rebecca Emberley and Ed Emberley, The Ant and the Grasshopper (New York: Roaring Brook Press, 2012), p. 31.

The Emberleys not only allow the grasshopper to live, they erase the object lesson of the dangers of having no plan for tomorrow.  Instead the happy-go-lucky grasshopper teaches the weary, dispirited ant how music makes burdens lighter.

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Let the good times roll! Rebecca Emberley and Ed Emberley, The Ant and the Grasshopper, p. 28.

In Jerry Pinkney’s retelling of the same fable, the banjo-playing grasshopper is also a joyful character.  Below he tries to convince the ants that they ought to stop and enjoy the beauties of the summer season.

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Jerry Pinkney, The Grasshopper and the Ants (New York: Little Brown, 2015), p. 8.

When winter comes and the miserable grasshopper shows up on the ant colony’s doorstep, they can’t find it in their hearts to lock him out.  He is welcomed in and offered the best of everything.

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Jerry Pinkney, The Grasshopper and the Ants, p. 18.

The Queen Ant sits down to tea with the grasshopper, as if to say  the love of music and  of nature can bring us together, if we allow it to happen.  Both insects are right in their own way, but no one loses in the end.

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Jerry Pinkney, The Grasshopper and the Ants, p. 36.

Who can argue with messages like these in confusing, competitive, and cruel times?  But is it necessary to obscure the pragmatic worldview of the Aesopian fable in order to protect young readers?  Some children will  embrace the happy ending where the ants and grasshopper party, others will remember Susan Emmet peering out into the dark, with the beautiful grasshopper Belle lifeless at her feet.  The good news is that we don’t have to choose among them–any version can be worth a look. The open-endedness of the twice-told tale is, after all, is one of its enduring pleasures.

See more Beatrix Potter and  bugs at Cotsen’s virtual exhibitions page!