Marcus French Licks His Algebra Anxiety

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Marcus French, letter to Eleanor, January 9, 1927. Marcus as projectionist. He’s chosen a film of a boxing match to show.

Marcus is back, with more letters to his big sister Eleanor this week.  Most days in Amsterdam, New York, were school days, not holidays, and buried in some of his bulletins  (aka the “Pathe newsreels”), were hints that things weren’t going well in algebra.

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A page of equations from an algebra text in use during the 1920s.

The first sign is in his letter of November 22, 1925, when he was eleven.  The pet stories always came before any other news.  His dog Jock had started raiding trashcans for food, while Dixie the cat disgraced himself by leaping on the dining room table at dinner to steal a piece of rabbit off a plate.  After an anecdote about the Sunday school teacher, Marcus announced, “I’m getting on in school pretty good here’s my marks.”  He received a gentleman’s C in English, writing, arithmetic, junior business training, printing, and textiles.   No absences, no tardies, but not exactly a stellar academic record that marking period  (the symbol scrawled down for his grades in spelling, history, science, and music is undecipherable and highly suspicious).

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Marcus French, letter to Eleanor dated November 22, 1925.

Nothing much about algebra until January 9th, 1927.  It was a pretty good day, all things considered.  Dixie had been given a dose of catnip after he was caught eating the house plants.  “For an hour and a half,” reports Marcus delightedly, “he was an insane cat.”   catnip-banned-uk

Another hot tidbit was that Father had brought home three new films–two two-reelers “Castor Oil” and “Big Business” starring Our Gang and a one-reeler “Suds” featuring Stan Laurel, making Marcus the proud possessor of ten reels of film.

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Lobby card for the Little Rascals’ short “Big Business.”

Then he drops the bombshell: “Miss Bartley is giving me 3 extra hours every week in algebra.  No more news.”

movie reels and extra algebra

Marcus French, letter to Eleanor, January 9, 1927. Surely Miss Bartley did not actually whack him over the head to make him do his homework…

By the 30th of January, the increased homework was paying dividends.   After telling Eleanor that Dixie had discovered the catnip’s hiding place in the pantry and sat in front of the cupboard yowling until given a dose, Marcus crowed, “I passed another algebra test 85%.”

85percent

Marcus French, letter to Eleanor, January 30, 1927.

Things had really improved by mid-March.  There was a long account of Jock’s returning home covered in blood with a crushed paw (he had probably gotten run over again) before Marcus gleefully announced, “I passed an Algebra test!!” (That made three for the academic year.)

an algebra test!

Marcus French, letter to Eleanor March 13, 1927.

On the next page, he drew himself fainting when Miss Bartley handed back another exam marked 85% with the encouraging words, “Good work.”  What is going on in the paper he drew in the upper right hand corner???  It looks as if he got all five questions right…

help Im fainting

Marcus French, letter to Eleanor, March 13, 1927. He appears to be wearing sunglasses, which surely can’t be right, and knickerbockers.

We may never know the answer to that question, because the ice floes rushing down the creek behind the barn was a lot more interesting, when it came right down to it.

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Marcus French, letter to Eleanor, March 13, 1927. Marcus has drawn himself on an ice berg saying “Haw, haw, what fun.”

More than Mary Poppins: The Archive of P.L. Travers and Mary Shepard at Cotsen Children’s Library

The below post was kindly provided by Miranda Marraccini, a Princeton University graduate student in the English department. In addition to specializing in Victorian poetry and the history of radical lady printers, Miranda works with us at Cotsen and, as you will see, lends us her more than capable scholarly and archival skills. 

More than Mary Poppins: The Archive of P.L. Travers and Mary Shepard at Cotsen Children’s Library

by Miranda Marraccini

Mary Poppins is one of the most recognizable characters in English children’s literature. Most of us who have seen the 1964 Disney film imagine her looking and sounding like Julie Andrews: holding out a spoonful of sugar, then flying off over the rooftops with the aid of her parrot-handled umbrella.  But what happens after Mary flies out of our lives? What is the consequence of her stern magic, the residue of her mysterious influence?

Well, as one collection at Cotsen shows, what happens post-Poppins is just as interesting as the familiar story of the book and film. In the 1990s, Cotsen acquired a collection of papers belonging to P. L. Travers, the author of Mary Poppins, and illustrator Mary Shepard. The collection contains personal letters, annotated drafts of stories, artist’s proofs of illustrations, legal documents, family photographs, and interesting scraps of every description.

Cotsen’s newly created Mary Shepard and P. L. Travers Archive is only a fraction of the global Travers archive.  In 1989, when she was 90 years old, Travers sold most of her papers to the State Library of New South Wales in Sydney, Australia, near her birthplace (Lawson 350). Cotsen’s collection, though smaller, is still illuminating. Consisting mostly of materials from her later life, it shows the post-Poppins Travers as she was: a deep and mystical thinker, a conflicted mother, a harsh critic, and unrelenting on what she considered points of principle.

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AE (George Russell) at Ilnacullin, in County Cork, Ireland, where Travers spent a holiday in 1929 (Lawson 120). (Box 7, Folder 28)

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Travers and AE at Pound Cottage, Mayfield, Sussex, in August, 1933 (Lawson 129). (Box 7, Folder 28)

These photos from our collection show Travers as a young woman. She moved to England in 1924, and spent formative time in Ireland with the writer and mystic George Russell, known as AE. AE fostered what became Travers’ lifelong passion for mythology. At different periods, she studied with gurus in India, lived on a reservation in the American Southwest, and was a dedicated student of the esoteric Russian spiritual teacher George Ivanovich Gurdjieff.  Travers saw commonalities in the fairy tales and ancient stories that children know around the world. She later developed her deeply personal theories in articles for Parabola Magazine, collected in What the Bee Knows: Reflections on Myth, Symbol and Story (1989).

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Draft of a story for What the Bee Knows, “The Interviewer”. (Box 1 Folder 21)

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Draft of a story for What the Bee Knows, “The Endless Story”. (Box 1, Folder 20)

Travers always imagined Mary Poppins as more than a children’s story. Mary herself, Travers believed, emerged from a rich tradition of female wisdom, living outside of time and somehow beyond the reach of human perspective (Lawson 155). Travers used the eight Mary Poppins books to reach a wider audience with her ideas about mythology. Mary Poppins in Cherry Tree Lane (1982) is Travers’ most myth-infused story, and also the most well-represented book within the Cotsen collection. In this story, Mary Poppins leads the Banks children on an adventure on Midsummer’s Eve, “the most magical night of the year.” It’s a night when the laws and rules dissolve like rain in the grass, and when anything can happen, possible or impossible.

A scratchboard drawing for Mary Poppins in Cherry Tree Lane by Mary Shepard showing Mary Poppins along with some of the other characters in the story, who are constellations: Ursa Major (the bear), Orion, and Vulpecula (the fox). Box 5, Folder 18.

A scratchboard drawing for Mary Poppins in Cherry Tree Lane by Mary Shepard showing Mary Poppins along with some of the other characters in the story, who are constellations: Ursa Major (the bear), Orion, and Vulpecula (the fox). (Box 5, Folder 18)

In the sketches below by Poppins illustrator Mary Shepard, the Park Keeper of the story, normally a sensible man, begins to believe in the power of “Old Wives’ Tales,” which “were apt to turn out to be true.” The lovelorn Park Keeper  follows the directions of a wiser character, who advises: “… if you walk backwards on Midsummer’s Eve, after putting an herb or two under your pillow—Marjoram, Sweet Basil, no matter what—you’ll back into your own true love as sure as nuts are nuts” (27).

An early sketch for the scene, which appears on page 31 of first American edition (Box 3, file 18).

An early sketch for the scene, which appears on page 31 of first American edition (Box 3, folder 18)

a later version, with comments by both Mary Shepard and P. L. Travers in the margins. (Box 5, file 11)

A later version, with comments by both Mary Shepard and P. L. Travers in the margins. (Box 5, folder 11)

Disappointingly, the Park Keeper backs into Mary Poppins, who is as likely to be his true love as a “gooseberry bush.” Shortly, however, he stumbles into a nighttime world of celestial magic, where constellations come down to Earth to gather herbs for their midsummer revels.  By the end of the story, the Park Keeper recovers his childhood knowledge: his belief in magic, the mystery of the universe, and the possibility of impossibility. In the familiar sunlit park, he had forgotten. “It needed the dark to show things plain” (63).

The Park Keeper bumps into Mary Poppins. (Box 5, File 10)

The Park Keeper bumps into Mary Poppins. This illustration appears on page 35 of the first American edition. (Box 5, Folder 10)

the park keeper cries in the Bird Woman’s lap while Orion looks on, (Box 5, File 8). This illustration appears on page 49.

The park keeper cries in the Bird Woman’s lap while Orion looks on. This illustration appears on page 49. (Box 5, Folder 8)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the sketch on the right above, the Park Keeper is overwhelmed by the rediscovery of his childhood knowledge: “He had known those figures when he was a boy, and many more besides. And he had forgotten what he had known, denied it, made it a thing of naught, something to be sneered at! He put his hands up to his eyes to hide the springing tears” (60).

The visible back-and-forth between P.L. Travers and Mary Shepard (later Mary Knox) in the margins of these sketches suggests that the two collaborated very closely on the Poppins illustrations. By all accounts, this is true. Our collection includes many professional letters between Travers and Shepard, from 1935, when the partnership started with Mary Poppins, onward. There are also tender personal letters in which Travers inquires after the health of Shepard’s husband, E. V. “Evoe” Knox.

The author/illustrator collaboration was not always amicable, however. Our collection documents a particularly longstanding disagreement between author and illustrator: the issue of copyright for the Mary Poppins illustrations. Although Travers maintained strict control of the content, Mary Shepard always retained the copyright on her own illustrations. Yet after the Mary Poppins movie came out, Shepard did not receive any portion of the multimillion dollars in box office profits (Lawson 257-258). (See Box 1, File 34.)

The dispute ended in Mary Poppins’ toes. In their original discussions about the first book, Mary Shepard had suggested that Mary Poppins should stand with her feet turned out in the “fifth position” of ballet, while Travers imagined them at right angles (Ross Lipson). In the movie, Julie Andrews as Mary Poppins stands with her feet in the fifth position. Shepard eventually won a small payment as compensation for this artistic contribution. The image below shows a legal decision in our collection, on the first page of which Mary Shepard explains the outcome of the case (with a sketch of Mary Poppins’s feet).

“Mr Knight [Shepard’s literary agent] succeeded by using Mary Poppins’s feet—my addition to her appearance—in the 5th position. Not mentioned here I received £1,000.” (Box 1, File 26)

“Mr Knight [Shepard’s literary agent] succeeded by using Mary Poppins’s feet—my addition to her appearance—in the 5th position. Not mentioned here I received £1,000.” (Box 1, Folder 26)

If Travers’ interactions with Mary Shepard are sometimes thorny, so were her letters to other acquaintances. Our collection includes dozens of letters that Travers wrote to schools and amateur theaters refusing their requests to stage Mary Poppins plays and musicals.

Travers refuses permission to adapt Mary Poppins into a play. She writes “You cannot mix two media without failing to do justice to both. It doesn’t work”. (Box 1, File 5)

Travers refuses permission to adapt Mary Poppins into a play. She writes “You cannot mix two media without failing to do justice to both. It doesn’t work”. (Box 1, Folder 5)

At crux of this refusal was the Mary Poppins film. Travers feared that any musical or play might mix elements from her books with popular elements from the film (for instance, the songs). For her this fusion was an unacceptable compromise. Since Travers held the rights to the story, Disney referred all requests to her. And she turned them all down, firmly. Travers’ relationship with Disney was chronicled in the recent film Saving Mr. Banks (2013).

Business correspondence like this makes up about half of our collection. Some documents in the collection, however, are intensely personal. P. L. Travers was always close-lipped about her private life, believing that her stories spoke for themselves. She once told an interviewer that her favorite author was “anonymous.”  In Cotsen’s documents Travers emerges in slips and scraps, on hotel stationery and in ragged journals.

Image from Travers dream journal. (Box 2, Folder 34)

Image from Travers dream journal. (Box 2, Folder 34)

In her typewritten dream journal Travers records the nocturnal presence of important people in her life: her family, left behind long ago in Australia, as well as mystics Gurdjieff and AE. But she also dreams about “minced meat” and the Prince of Wales. One of her dreams (above) has an “erotic overtone.”

Overtones aside, Travers seems to have been involved in romantic relationships with women and men (Lawson 117). She was very close to, and lived with, her friend Madge Burnand. Among the houses they shared was Pamela’s idyllic Pound Cottage in Mayfield, Sussex.

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Madge signs this photo of herself “Yours sincerely,” and Pamela labels it “a present.” (Box 7, Folder 29)

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Madge and Pamela lived together at Pound Cottage before World War II. (Box 7, Folder 29)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our archive contains other records of P. L. Travers’ family life. In 1939, months after war had been declared, Travers adopted a son, Camillus, from a family she had known in Ireland. The baby’s grandfather, Joseph Hone, had been an important publisher and biographer working with Ireland’s most illustrious literary figures, including AE (Lawson 189). Travers consulted an astrologer in California who told her Camillus was a better match for her than his twin brother. She took Camillus back to England. Some of the pictures below are from the war period, when Travers and her son were evacuated to New York.

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All 4 pictures depict Camillus Travers as a young child. (Box 7, folder 31)

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Our archive compiles evidence of what was at times a complicated relationship between Camillus and his mother. It includes dozens of letters that Camillus wrote home from school, telling his mother about his grades and his classes, his little worries and triumphs. It includes a document Travers signed, releasing Camillus from jail where he was held on a drunk driving charge as a young man. And it includes a letter to Camillus that Travers wrote in the last year of her life, in the loose, unspooled writing of very advanced age. She begs Camillus to come see her, reminding “I will be 96 in August—not long!”

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Letter from a teenage Camillus Travers at school to his mother. He writes “My Darling Mother, Please forgive me for not writing before—I have had another attack of torpidity.” (Box 2, File 22)

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Record of Camillus Travers’ arrest and release on a drunk driving charge or “moving offence”. (Box 2, Folder 22)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Letter from Pamela Travers to her son, Camillus. “Darling Camillus, Do come & see me. I used to talk to you. I will be 96 in August—not long! Your faithful & loving M.” (Box 2, Folder 22)

Travers felt that young Camillus connected her with the world of fairy tale, which lives on in the imaginations of children, through generations. As a character in Mary Poppins in Cherry Tree Lane explains: “Didn’t your grandmother tell you nothing? Mine told it to me and hers told her. And her grandmother told it to her, and away and away, right back to Adam” (28).

In Cherry Tree Lane, “night changes the world and makes the known unknown” (75). Our archive makes us rethink the familiar, brightly colored world of Mary Poppins, shadowing it with the obscurities of myth and symbol that absorbed Travers all her life.

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Sources

Lawson, Valerie. Mary Poppins, She Wrote: The Life of P. L. Travers. New York: Simon & Schuster, 2006.

Ross Lipson, Eden. “Mary Shepard Dies at 90; ‘Mary Poppins’ Illustrator,” New York Times, October 2, 2000. http://www.nytimes.com/2000/10/02/arts/mary-shepard-dies-at-90-mary-poppins-illustrator.html.

For more information about the paper of P. L. Travers see the guide to her papers in the Mitchell Library of New South Wales:

http://www.sl.nsw.gov.au/mssguide/ptravers.pdf

You can find Cotsen’s Mary Shepard and P. L. Travers archive on the Princeton University Library Finding Aids website at:

http://findingaids.princeton.edu/collections/COTSEN2