Made for a Grandson: A Nursery Rhyme Cloth Book ca. 1897

Children were reminded constantly to take care of their books before the rise of untearables on cloth, board, and textured paper in the second half of the nineteenth century.   Cotsen has hundreds of examples of these books and pamphlets for the unintentionally destructive hands of babies and toddlers—or careless older children–  should anyone want to write a history of the genre.

Nursery Rhymes. [New Orleans?, 1897]. (Cotsen 18522)

 

One of the most interesting examples in the collection is a nursery rhyme collection made by a grandmother for “petit cher William,” which she gave him on September  1,1897.  Two pieces of cloth are sewn together with blanket stitch around three of the four edges.  The style of the illustrations look American, but there aren’t any definitive clues pointing to her state and city of residence. The title is embroidered on the dark red cloth cover and illustrated with paper cut-outs of Mother Goose holding a goose on a lead, now partly torn away. Although the inscription is in French, the rest of the book’s text is in English, copied on differently shaped slips of paper attached to the cloth pages, as seen to the right.

(Cotsen 18522)

Grandmère’s large selection of rhymes for William includes many familiar ones, such as “Pat-a-cake,” “Humpty Dumpty,” and “Little Bo-Peep,”  with others like “Richard and Robin” or “Come, butter, come,” which appeared in the first nursery rhyme collections from the 1740s, but have dropped out of the canon.

The rhymes are illustrated with cut-out pictures.  The  black page has an especially nice example of her collages.   “This little pig went to market” consists of a hand with “O. N. T,” which almost certainly comes from an Our New Thread advertisement for Coats and Clark.   She then pasted pictures of the pigs on its fingertips, then wrote the text on curlique shapes, which resemble Struwwelpeter’s uncut nails. Below it is “There was a little man, and he had a little gun.” The “little man” is a little boy in soldier’s helmet, not hunter’s green.  Opposite him is  “See-saw, Margery daw” illustrated with a sawhorse, with one child balanced against the three at the other end of the plank.

(Cotsen 18522)

Displayed on this page of beige cloth are several eighteenth-century rhymes: “Lucy Lockit lost her pocket” in the lower left is acted out by a girl dressed in mourning and her adversary in a rather short skirt waving a parasol.  Above them to the right is  “Old woman, old woman, shall we go a’shearing?”  a humorous take on a failed attempt at courtship.  The “old woman” has the head of the Cheshire cat pasted on a body to which has been added an ear trumpet.  Shouting into it is a much smaller pig dressed in a suit. (Was the choice of animal for the man was deliberate?)  She also divided the page in half diagonally to accommodate the long rhyme “When I was a little boy, I lived by myself,” with the main character illustrated by three figures in completely different costumes.

(Cotsen 18522)

Manuscript nursery rhyme collections usually contain unrecorded appearances of songs and this one is no exception.  It falls within the time period when Frank Green’s song “Ten Little N*****s” was considered amusing and performed frequently at Black minstrel shows.  In the upper left hand corner of this page is a rhyme about organ grinder’s monkey, which turns out to be an early, possibly unrecorded, version of the tongue-twisting song “I wish I was in Monkey land / The place where I was born,” sometimes called “The Malalankey Song.”  The verbal pyrotechnics start in the second stanza “I wililish I walalaas in mololonkey Lalaland.”  While unfamiliar to me, it turns up in on blogs, Reditt, and several Youtube videos, some of which call it an Indian, i.e. South Asian, children’s song.  Unfortunately, Grandmère illustrated it with a grotesque Illustration of old black man, a reinforcement of the ugly old stereotype familiar to Americans.

Homemade books like this one for a grandson deserve to be appreciated for what they preserve, both the good and bad.  It simultaneously displays the creativity of a woman fashioning a unique object for a beloved child that will introduce him to an important genre of poetry for the young while also reflecting typical attitudes of her time, which make us uncomfortable today.

Made by a Child: Skeletons in The Beginning, Progress, and End of Man

Traddles displaying a slate with a skeleton drawing. From an advertising card for a cigarette manufacturer.

The most celebrated child artist of the skeleton must be Tommy Traddles, David Copperfield’s fellow pupil at Salem House. Or would be if any of his slate drawings had survived…

Poor Traddles!…He was always being caned—I think he was caned every day that half year….After laying his head on the desk for a little while, he would cheer up somehow, begin to laugh again, and draw skeletons all over his slate before his eyes were dry.  I used at first to wonder what comfort Traddles found in drawing skeletons, and for some time looked upon him as a sort of hermit, who reminded himself by those symbols of mortality that caning couldn’t last forever. But I believe he only did it because they were easy and didn’t require any features (Charles Dickens, David Copperfield, chapter 7).

We may have none of Traddles’ art, but there are a respectable number of boys’ and girls’ drawings of skeletons in the manuscript versions of the religious turn-up book, The Beginning, Progress and End of Man.  (There’s more  information about this fascinating illustrated text at the Learning as Play site). The subject of the final metamorphic picture is a rich and worldly young man, who, when the flaps are lifted, transforms into Death, always represented as a skeleton, usually holding an hourglass and scythe, sometimes with a coffin in the background. The manuscript turn-ups are actually more common than the printed ones, whose heyday was between 1660 and the early 1800s.  However, the anonymous manuscripts are harder to localize, even when signed by their makers.  English or American?  18 or 19th century?

Here is a gallery of skeletons from Cotsen’s rather large collection of the manuscript turn-up books.  No two are the same and none are even remotely anatomically correct.  Maybe the differences reveal something about the extent of the individual artist’s knowledge of the human body, in addition to the level of skill with pen and watercolor wash.

Perhaps Eleanor Schank was quite young in 1776 when she scratched out the drawings for this turn-up.  The figure’s costume is unmistakably feminine.  It’s the only one in the collection where a young woman is substituted for the man.  The skeleton seems to have given her more trouble (Cotsen in process).

The anonymous artist of this nicely colored one emphasized the joints at the expense of the rib cage. The floral frames around the verse are a dainty touch (Cotsen 5145).

[Harlequinade Manuscript, ca. 1800]. (Cotsen 5145)

(Cotsen 5145)

This creator of this unsigned manuscript produced a substantial man in blue breeches holding money bags and the pleasingly abstract skeleton with bow legs.  The Adam and Eve were given belly buttons (Cotsen 23624).

Here Adam Comes First on the Stage. [England, 1820s?]. (Cotsen 23624)

(Cotsen 23624)

John Sutton drew this well dressed young man in a tricorne and a better than average skeleton–one of the few with a pelvic girdle (Cotsen 3135)

Here Adam First Leads up the Van. [England], 1720. (Cotsen 3135)

.

(Cotsen 3135)

(Cotsen 3135)

The drawings in this, the last example, has dash and energy, along with major problems with the perspective.  The skeleton’s face looks a little too friendly.

Children continue to be fascinated by making skeletons.  One father/blogger has immortalized his three-year-old son’s obsession in at least three posts.  He sounds as if he could give Tommy Traddles a run for his money filling up all available blank space with animated constructions of bones…

Drawing skeletons and other scary things