Picturing “Alice in Wonderland”: How Do Child Readers Imagine It?

Tenniel's 's original illustrations from "Alice in Wonderland"

One of John Tenniel’s original illustrations for “Alice in Wonderland” (Cotsen 657)

Alice in Wonderland has been delighting children and grown-ups for over 150 years now. In addition to Lewis Carroll’s text, the illustrations by John Tenniel and other, later illustrators have been a major source of readers’ delight.

Try to imagine Alice without any illustrations of the famous characters and scenes, either by Tenniel or other illustrators. Virtually impossible isn’t it? Carroll himself provided very, very little descriptive detail, if you actually look at his text. So our sense of how Alice and all the inhabitants of Wonderland look is strongly conditioned by illustration, when you stop to think about it. Textual and visual elements of Alice seem inseparably intertwined, with the illustrations shaping meaning, extending it, and sometimes commenting ironically on the text. Tenniel’s Queen of Hearts and Mad Hatter look comically absurd, rather than menacing or hostile, illustration leavening the tone of the words, which can be quite edgy, or even scary, all by themselves.

Professional illustrators have been reimagining Alice in new versions since the nineteenth century, including names like Arthur Rackham, Willy Pogány, Ralph Steadman, or Salvador Dali. (Yes, Dali did have a go at illustrating Alice, in his own distinctive style! More on that “curiosity” in a later posting.). The flood of the new illustrations shows no sign of abating in the twenty-first century either, based on recent editions.

Cheshire Cat (detail) by Lesley Young

“Cipher Alice” Cheshire Cat (detail) by Lesley Young (Cotsen 20836).

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Another “Cipher Alice” Cheshire Cat (detail) by Lee MacArthur & David Dansey (Cotsen 20836).

But it’s worth remembering that adults haven’t been the only illustrators of Alice. Generations of children have reimagined Alice in their own pictures, mostly unpublished, but some have found their way into various publications. For instance, the Cipher Alice — a coded version of the story based on the Telegraph Cipher devised by Carroll — credits some twenty-six ten- and eleven-year old children as illustrators (in addition to twenty-nine named “code checkers” for the coder cipher text), all of whom were students at the Edward Peake Middle School in Biggleswade, Bedfordshire, England in 1990, when the book was printed by L & T Press, Ltd.

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Alice & the “Drink Me” bottle, by Louise Lawson.

The students’ graphic renderings vary in style and sophistication, but all display the obvious pleasure that children have taken in Alice since 1865. Louise Lawson, for instance, pictures Alice as a smiling little girl with huge bow on her hair, wearing a variation of Alice’s traditional pinafore emblazoned with a super-hero’s “W” (“Wonderland”) and the name “Alice” added on her apron, just for good measure. She chooses to depict Alice theatrically holding up the “Drink Me” bottle at the beginning of her Wonderland adventures.

The book’s Preface, by supervising grown-up, Edward Wakeling, notes that the Cipher Alice was produced for the Alice 125 Project of the Carroll Foundation, Australia, which attempted “to set a world record for the number of different languages version of the same book.” Interest in Alice was indeed world-wide in 1990, and if anything, it has become even more so in 2016 (Alice 150), with the book having been translated into more than 170 languages in countless editions!

But as in so many editions of Alice, I think the illustrations in the Cipher Alice are “the thing” (with apologies to Hamlet), so I’d like to share some others with you. It’s one my very favorite editions, since it shows how child-readers responded to Alice. I also like the way that different children sometimes imagined quite different depictions of the same scene — there’s no one, “right” way to depict Alice, as the many different versions over the last 150 years have shown us! The illustrations are simply terrific fun to see too! (Click on any thumbnail image to see a larger version.)

Down into Wonderland via a tunnel-like maelstrom... Past curious things on the way

Down into Wonderland via a tunnel-like maelstrom… past curious things on the way.

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Descending into Wonderland via a bucket in a well… Past dinosaur fossils on the way!

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Alice and the White Rabbit “after the fall” — Alice looks distinctly unhappy (and wears a name-tag).

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Alice (wearing a “Cool” tee-shirt) as she shrinks, becoming too small to reach the key on the table.

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Tiny Alice after shrinking too small to reach the door key on the (now giant-sized) table.

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The Mad Hatter (price tag in his hatband) with a hot-dog, a coke, and an earring!

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Alice and a mustachioed caterpillar, who also wears a monocle and smokes a gentleman’s pipe.

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Alice (with a name-tag), an unusual-looking White Rabbit, and the Court of the Queen of Hearts.

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“You’re nothing but a pack of cards!” –Alice. (And how about the Hatter’s outfit shown here?)

How do these illustrations compare with how you visualize Alice, Wonderland, and its inhabitants?

If you’d like to see more illustrations of Alice, Wonderland, and all its inhabitants, come visit the exhibition now in the Cotsen Gallery: “Alice, after Alice: Adaptation, Illustration, and the ‘Alice Industry’!”

Alice after "Alice" at Cotsen Library

Alice after “Alice” Exhibition at the Cotsen Library:
April 15–July 15, 2016
Free & Open to the Public, Daily 9-5

 

Un Crime Effroyable: A Child Draws a Murderer Brought to Justice!

One of our newest acquisitions here at Cotsen is a really unique item.  It’s one of our favorite types of materials to have in the collection: juvenilia, an instance of literary, musical, or visual art created by a child artist.  This particular piece is a cleverly illustrated French language poster presumably created and inscribed by J. M. Legeay (Jean-Marc?) in September of 1896 (see final panel). The poster tells a story in pictures about a reprehensible killing and the events that ensue after the despicable act, complete with a sobering moral.

Although this murder story is resolved and justice is meted out, there remain, for us, many mysteries surrounding the piece itself.  Where was it made?  Who made it? Why was it made?  I will explore these questions about this intriguing historical object while we simultaneously explore the scandalous pictorial story it presents us with.

Without further ado: Un Crime Effroyable (a terrible crime)

Un Crime Effroyable

This handmade poster is illustrated in crayon, ink, watercolor, and pencil.  The piece features 10 pictorial paper panels and a foldable cardboard border.  All the individual segments are backed on black linen cloth in order to join the work as a whole. The poster is designed to be easily hung on the wall, or neatly folded up along the panels’ divisions.

The top 2 panels serve as our decorative title:

(Notice the string for hanging and the torn hanging hole on the left.)

(Notice the string for hanging and the torn hanging hole on the left.)

From these purely physical facts we might infer that this item was diligently worked on.  It also demonstrates a good degree of artistic skill (for a young and presumably amateur artist) and craft ability that would have taken young Legeay many hours to illustrate, cut, arrange, and paste together.  But we don’t get a clear indication of why he spent so much time creating it.  What was this young man’s motivation? Legeay probably didn’t create a moral tale about wrongdoing and lawful retribution just for his own amusement. Rather, it seems reasonable to conclude that the impetus for this kind of project was probably a school assignment, an exercise in moral education.  Let’s see what the young man learned…

Un Crime Effroyable, first panel

In this first scene we are introduced to two characters: a middle class fop in his bright yellow pants, and a small green blob (who we soon learn is our murderer). The dandy seems quite dandy, and why not? It seems he, and at least the character behind him, has just left the wine and liquor store in the background.

Un Crime Effroyable, second panelHere, with seemingly no explanation and for no reason, our good-natured friend with the cherubic face is stabbed by a mustachioed assailant.  But notice the juxtaposition of clothing style and appearance between victim and killer.  Stylized against our top hatted and parasol wielding picture of happiness and innocence that is our middle class man, we have our murderer.  He appears working class, with his plain green coat and matching kepi; no frills in his dress.

At this point we might venture to say that this depiction of a terrible crime is an illustration of class conflict; an instance of a working class man preying on a defenseless (and seemingly blameless) middle class man.  I don’t think it would be unfair to assert that Legeay is probably middle class himself.  Not only does he seemingly have access to schooling and a variety of coloring materials, he is also evincing a common middle class fear about the brutal and violent lower class wanting to harm the bourgeoisie.  Of course, one has to keep in mind that Legeay is just a child; I don’t mean to foist upon him some propagandist motivation.  I believe, rather, that he is just a young man reflecting the world views around him as he completes a school assignment.

In this next scene two officers happen upon the hapless body of our victim. Notice their spurs . . . but lack of horses to use them on.

In this next scene two officers happen upon the hapless body of our victim. Notice their spurs . . . but lack of horses to use them on.

The killer smokes his victim's pipe, the scoundrel!

The killer smokes his victim’s pipe, the scoundrel!

Our murderer contently relaxes in a local café after his grisly deed, as the be-spurred officer enters. From the clues in this panel we get our first guess at the possible region of origin for this poster. On the door we find inscribed “Café” and “Cidre”. Cidre is French for cider, specifically the kind popularly produced in the regions of Normandy and Brittany. This familiarity with cidre might be an indication that Legeay is from one of these regions (or just a budding young drunk).  But as we will see, there is other evidence that points in a very different direction.

The murderer, sandwiched between spurs, is apprehended and clearly startled.

The murderer, sandwiched between spurs, is apprehended and clearly startled.

Here our guilty man seems repentant and regretful at the Assize Court. Notice the second sign in the background: Etres Sans Frapper (enter without knocking).

Here our guilty man seems repentant and regretful at the Assize Court. Notice the second sign in the background: Etres Sans Frapper (enter without knocking).

Un Crime Effroyable, guillotine sceneIn this scene the action of the story comes to a close.  Our killer is being escorted to a smiling executioner manning the infamous guillotine.The perpetrator’s escorts are none other than our officers-in-spurs and a crucifix bearing priest. This panel, however, shows us more than just the moments leading up to our murderer’s last.Look closely at the left side of the illustration and you might just be able to make out the most puzzling feature of this item, what appears to be debossed text reading: Hollonge.

Provided here are two closer images of the text (one vertical, one horizontal):

closer image of the text, vertical

closer image of the text, horizontal

It is unclear whether this text is a hand written inscription or whether it is a trade mark on the paper itself. It seems unlikely that it is the debossed trade mark ofa paper manufacturer, “Hollonge”, because the mark does not appear on any other panel of the poster and no such company has turned up in my research. So it might be an inscription. But who would write it?  Why was it written? What does it mean?

Hollonge might be a corruptionthat is supposed to denote Hollogne. Hollogne being short hand for the town of Grâce-Hollogne, known to English speakers as The Ardennes.  Grâce-Hollogne, it turns out, is located not in France, but in Belgium. Butif the poster is from Belgium one might wonder why the text is written in French. Significantly, perhaps, The Ardennes is located in the province of Liège, placing it in the region known as Wallonia. This might place Legeay as a Walloon, a French speaking Belgian.

Another aspect of Hollonge is that it seems to have been etched by a tool. Hollange is composed of recessed markings, and some of the strokes appear too thick to have been written by pencil or pen. However it was made, it appears to have been a mistake.  If the word is supposed to be Hollogne, it is spelled wrong. Furthermore the final character “e” also resembles an “l”.

Maybe Legeay wrote Hollonge. It’s possible, considering that, as we will see, Legeay makes spelling errors elsewhere as well. But why would Legeay write the place of origin on his own work? Certainly he knows (and doesn’t need to share) where he lives and where he’s made his work. Though the erroneous word is an inscription, it probably isn’t Legeay’s.

It’s more reasonable to assume that the inscription was written by a more recent owner of the work, perhaps a collector of juvenilia or an antiquarian bookseller. This owner was probably French, considering that Hollogne is written with two l’s as opposed to one (Hologne), which is the Wallonian spelling of the place-name. The word might have been erased because of the spelling error or because the attempt to place the origin of the work in Hollogne was unfounded.

With the limited evidence we currently have, all I can do is offer a few guesses about this work’s place of origin. Does the mention of “cidré” point towards Normandy or Brittany as the origin of the work, or does Hollonge point us to Belgium? We might just never really know, with any real certainty, where exactly this work was created.

But what we can be more certain of is that Legeay is probably middle class, that he is a decent illustrator, and that he is not a good speller. This brings us to the final panel:

The tricolour banner, using the three colors of the French flag, directs the possible origin of the work back towards France; or at least informs us that Legeay is a Francophile.

The tricolour banner, using the three colors of the French flag, directs the possible origin of the work back towards France; or at least informs us that Legeay is a Francophile.

In the bottom right hand corner of the work we get our autograph: J M Legeay. Considering that the "m" is so diminutive, it might denote the second half of a hyphened name. A common name of this form, was (and still is) Jean-Marc. "Sep R/96" I take, for obvious reasons, to represent the month of Septembre (September) and the year 1896.

In the bottom right hand corner of the work we get our autograph: J M Legeay. Considering that the “m” is so diminutive, it might denote the second half of a hyphened name. A common name of this form, was (and still is) Jean-Marc. “Sep R/96” I take, for obvious reasons, to represent the month of Septembre (September) and the year 1896.

This final panel delivers the true coup de grâce of the piece, a moral message from our insightful author that caps off the story: “N’assasinez point et vous n’serez point gigotiné” (Don’t murder and you won’t get the guillotine). Pointedly, young Legeay has spelled two words wrong; Assasinez is missing an “s” (assassinez) and the spelling of that last word, gigotiné (as opposed to the already Francophone guillotine), is very wrong. Legeay seems much more careless with his spelling and word choice than his illustrations. I don’t think the boy was very much motivated to really draw out his moral lesson but, in true boyish fashion, was much more interested in illustrating violence instead (probably to the chagrin of his teacher).

But let’s return to that very odd word gigotiné. It might mean more than just a child’s bad spelling. Using gigotiné might prove that Legeay is cleverer than he appears. Gigotiné, if spelled this way purposefully, has a double meaning. Not only does it obviously denote the guillotine, it also means to associate another word with that infernal machine: gigotin (a prepared leg of lamb). Coupled with this association, gigotiné reminds us of the outcome of the guillotine’s use. It’s tongue and cheek of course, and not meant to be taken too seriously. It was probably a common euphemism; not something Legeay came up with himself.

I can't help but wonder if this piece was ever hung, and where it might have been displayed. Would Legeay's parents have let that proud child hang this in their living room?

I can’t help but wonder if this piece was ever hung, and where it might have been displayed. Would Legeay’s parents have let that proud child hang this in their living room?

This poster is an article of juvenilia that, although humorous and interesting, is still shrouded in mystery.  I’ve tried my best to explain who might have made this work and why they might have made it.  But given my limited knowledge and the limited information that the work itself offers, my interpretation of this child’s work should be taken with a grain of salt.  The origins of this clever little poster remain enigmatic.  But what we do end up with is a glimpse into the life of a child during the close of the 19th Century. Though this poster begs more questions than it provides answers, it is nevertheless a charming look into how a child at the time saw and felt about the world around him (particularly, how he felt about murders and guillotines).