French children’s books | Cotsen Children’s Library

Today I was reading a bookseller’s catalogue and came across an extraordinary illustration in a late edition of a popular French alphabet book, L’abecedaire des demoiselles (Paris: P. C. Lehuby,1839; Cotsen 52908). I ran into the stacks to see if the 14th edition had the same engraved frontispiece of a little girl entertaining her friends outdoors with an elegant repast improvised with stones. The story “Le diner de cérémonie” tells how little Elisa welcomes her friends in a corner of the garden shaded by lilacs on a tiny table with bricks for chairs, a sheet of paper for a table cloth, and leaves for plates. Being a proper little French girl, she serves them slices of small brioche, wedges of apple, and sugar-coated almonds. The author notes approvingly how generous the little hostess was without lapsing into gourmandise, a good sign for the future.

The reason I mistook the main course for two artfully arranged stones instead of a buttery brioche was I had leapt to the conclusion that I had discovered a nineteenth-century French equivalent of Marjorie Winslow’s enchanting cookbook for dolls, Mud Pies and Other Recipes (New York: Macmillan, 1961; Cotsen 13477), which assures readers that anyone with a little imagination can prepare a backyard picnic out of few ingredients:

Doll cookery is not a very exacting art. The time it takes to cook a casserole depends on how long your dolls are able to sit at a table without falling over. And if a recipe calls for a cupful of something, you can use a measure cup or a teacup or a buttercup. It doesn’t much matter. What does matter is that you select the best ingredients available, set a fine table, and serve with style.

Dolls dote on mud, according to Mrs. Winslow, so here are some recipes for choice dishes starring that tasty and tactile ingredient. The illustrations are by the incomparable Erik Blegvad.Pair “Mock Mud Puddle Soup” with the “Molded Moss Salad” and a “Grilled Mud Sandwich.” For a party of vegetarians, “Leaves en Brochette” are a nice substitute for the sandwiches.

Little girls and dolls adore gooey desserts. “Instant Mud Custard” couldn’t be simpler and follow it with “Dollypops,” which are not too sweet. Seconds would not be out of order. On a day that isn’t too hot, a good late afternoon snack would be “Pie-Throwing Pies,” an easy variation on “Mud Throwing Pies,” that can take out big brothers or pesky neighbors.

We Americans may not rival the gracious hospitality for which the French are renowned, but we can show then a thing or two about outdoor cooking and dining!

Vintage French postcards are all over Etsy and Pinterest. Some are portraits of pretty young ladies. Many others advertise tourist destinations or famous French aperitifs. Sets that illustrate fairy tales seem to be more unusual and Cotsen is fortunate to have some examples from the so-called Golden Age of Postcards between 1890 and 1915.One of the most sumptuous sets in the collection (Cotsen 60506) retells Perrault’s fairy tale of “Sleeping Beauty” (“La Belle au Bois Dormant”) in six scenes. They may look like postcards, with unsigned color illustrations centered on borders of attractively torn paper set on a gold background, but they were not designed to be sent through the mail. Flip any of the cards over and the back is a beautifully composed advertisement dated 1900 promoting Aristide and Marguerite Boucicault’s Le Bon Marché, the first department store in France, as one of the foremost attractions in Paris..“Little Thumb” (“Le Petit Poucet”), also from Perrault’s Histoires du tems passé is illustrated in 10 scenes reproduced from half-tone photographs of carefully posed models (Cotsen 60505). The color was added by hand or with stencils. The man playing the ogre mugs at the camera while wielding a huge knife and grabbing one of the hero’s little brothers by a foot. Never mind if the thief Petit Poucet swimming in the ogre’s seven-league boots looks as he won’t be able to run like the wind to rescue his siblings. B. Chenas sent a one-line message on each card sometime in 1908 to Mlle Gabrielle Perez, a guest at the Patte d’oie (“The Foot of the Goose”) in Herblay, Seine-et-Oise, a northwestern suburb of Paris about twelve miles from city center.The postcard collection has three versions of “Little Red Riding Hood” (“Le Petit Chaperon Rouge”). The set with sepia photographic illustrations is signed in the lower right hand corner “J.K” and numbered in the lower left-hand corner “660” (presumably the publisher’s number for a title within a series). Cotsen 60503 consists of five scenes featuring an adorable little girl with bobbed hair wearing a print apron over a ruffled skirt and sabots. The skeletal wolf standing next to her in the second card looks as fake as the wolf’s head in grandmother’s mob cap in the fifth one. Everything after that may be missing. There’s no publisher or address lines on the back, so perhaps these charming cards were made for another purpose.The second “Red Riding Hood” (Cotsen 60502) in twelve acts is based on “The Big Bad Wolf,” the 1934 sequel to the wildly successful 1933 Disney Silly Symphony “The Three Pigs.” The story is a mash-up of Perrault and the English folktale. The piggies dance with Red down a path through the woods until they are ambushed by the wolf in an outrageous fairy costume. The girl doesn’t lose her nerve and runs away, while the cowardly pigs shiver on the ground. They do pull themselves together fast enough to get to the grandmother’s cottage in time to save their friend from the vile hairy beast.“Le Chaperon Rose” is a slightly saucy version of the fairy tale in five beautifully produced hand-colored photographs acted out for the camera by two exquisitely turned out children around eleven or twelve (Cotsen 60501). The wolf, played by a boy in a short suit accessorized with a cane, watch, and bowler hat, greets Chaperon Rose, dainty in a pink gown bedizened with tucks and ruffles. She presents him with a rose from her basket and pins it to his lapel, a gesture which obviously pleases him. She invites him to kiss her on the check, accepting his token of esteem with a coy, knowing look. “N. Guillot” sent sweet kisses to Mlle. Yvonne Guillot in Lille—perhaps a father travelling on business or a grandparent staying in touch between visits in 1907.