IV. John Newbery, Oliver Goldsmith, and Isaiah Thomas.
Wherever you wander in the land of children’s books, ramifications, with the vein of hidden gold, invite investigation,—rich gold for the student and for the critic, but less so for the general reader. Yet upon the general reader a book’s immortality depends. No librarian, no historian, need be crowded out; there are points still to be settled, not in the mere dry discussion of dates, but in the estimates of individual effect. The development of children’s books is consecutive, carried forward because of social reasons; each name mentioned has a story of its own. Two publishers at the outset attract our regard; except for them, much would have been lost to English and American children.
As early as Elizabeth’s time, Rafe Newberie, Master of Stationer’s Company, published Hakluyt’s “Voyages.” From him, John Newbery (1713–1767) was descended. Given an ordinary schooling, he was apprenticed to the printer, William Carnan, who, dying in 1737, divided his worldly goods between his brother Charles, and his assistant John. The latter, in order to cement his claim still further, married his employer’s widow, by whom he had three children, Francis, his successor in the publishing business, being born on July 6, 1743.
Newbery was endowed with much common sense. He travelled somewhat extensively before settling in London, and, during his wanderings, he jotted down rough notes, relating especially to his future book trade; the remarks are worthy of a keen critic. During this time it is hard to keep Newbery, the publisher, quite free from the picturesque career of Newbery, the druggist; on the one hand Goldsmith might call him “the philanthropic publisher of St. Paul’s Churchyard,” as he did in the “Vicar of Wakefield,” which was first printed by Newbery and Benjamin Collins, of Salisbury; on the other hand, in 1743, one might just as well have praised him for the efficacy of the pills and powders he bartered. Now we find him a shopkeeper, catering to the captains of ships from his warehouse, and adding every new concoction to his stock of homeopathic deceptions. Even Goldsmith could not refrain from having a slap at his friend in “Quacks Ridiculed.”
He made money, however, and he associated with a literary set among whom gold was much coveted and universally scarce. The portly Dr. Johnson ofttimes borrowed a much-needed guinea, an unfortunate privilege, for he had a habit of never working so long as he could feel money in his pocket. This generosity on the part of Newbery did not deter Johnson from showing his disapproval over many of the former’s publications. We can well imagine the implied sarcasm in his declaration that Newbery was an extraordinary man, “for I know not whether he has read, or written most books.” Between 1744 and 1802, records indicate that Newbery and his successors printed some three hundred volumes, two hundred of which were juvenile; small wonder he needed the editorial assistance of such persons as Dr. Johnson and Oliver Goldsmith.
One of the first pieces the latter let Newbery have, was an article for the Literary Magazine of January, 1758. Then there came into existence The Universal Chronicle, or Weekly Gazette in April, 1758, for which Johnson wrote “The Idler.” In 1759, The British Magazine or Monthly Repository for Gentlemen and Ladies, by T. Smollett, M.D., and others was announced, Smollett then taking a rest cure in jail. As though magazines could be launched in a few hours without sinking, a daily sheet called the Public Ledger was brought into existence on January 12, 1760, for which Goldsmith wrote his “Chinese Letters.” Between this date and 1767, Goldsmith resided in a room on the upper floor of Newbery’s house at Islington, and the publisher’s son declares that while there Goldsmith read to him odd parts of “The Traveller” and the “Vicar of Wakefield.” This has not so much evidence to support it as the fact that bills presented at the front door for Goldsmith, usually found their way to Newbery for settlement.
How much actual suggestion Goldsmith gave to his publisher-employer, how far he influenced the character of the books to be printed, cannot be determined; he and Griffith and Giles Jones assuredly encouraged the juvenile picture stories. An advertisement of 1765 calls attention to the following: “The Renowned History of Giles Gingerbread, a little boy who lived upon learning” [the combination is very appropriate in its compensating qualities of knowledge and “sweets”]; “The Whitsuntide Gift, or the Way to be Happy”; “The Valentine Gift, or how to behave with honour, integrity and humanity”; and “The History of Little Goody Two Shoes, otherwise called Margery Two Shoes.”
Though he could not wholly escape the charge of catering to the moral craze of the time, Newbery at least infused into his little books something of imagination and something of heroic adventure; not sufficient however to please Dr. Johnson, who once said: “Babies do not want to hear about babies; they like to be told of giants and castles, and of somewhat which can stretch and stimulate their little minds.” A thrust at the ignorance of grown people, regarding what children like, is further seen in Johnson’s remark that parents buy, but girls and boys seldom read what is calculated for them.
There are many to praise Newbery’s prints; they were more or less oddities, even in their own time. Their usefulness was typified in such books as the “Circle of Sciences,” a compendium of universal knowledge; their attractiveness was dependent not only upon the beauty of their make, but also upon the queerness of their format; for example, such volumes as were called the snuff-box series, or ready references for waistcoat pockets. Then there was the combination plan, indicated in the announcement: “A Little Pretty Pocket-Book, intended for the Instruction and Amusement of Little Master Tommy and Pretty Miss Polly, with an agreeable letter to read from Jack-the-Giant-Killer, as also a Ball and Pincushion, the use of which will infallibly make Tommy a Good Boy, and Polly a Good Girl.... Price of the Book alone, 6d., with a Ball or Pincushion, 8d.”
The variety of Newbery’s ideas resulted in every species of book-publishing, from a children’s magazine (The Lilliputian), with Goldsmith as the reputed editor, to a child’s grammar. Interested one moment in a machine for the colouring of silks and cloths, at another he would be extolling the fever powders of Dr. James, a whilom schoolfellow of Johnson. He was untiring in his business activity. His firm changed name many times, but always Newbery remained the dominant figure. After his death, the business continued for some while to be identified with its founder, and for a long period his original policy was continued. Francis Newbery, the son, left an autobiography of historic value.
Newbery’s real genius consisted in his trading ability. Modern advertising is not more clever than that practised by this shrewd man of the eighteenth century. Not only was he in the habit of soliciting puffs, and of making some of the characters in his stories proclaim the excellencies of his books, but the personal note and the friendly feeling displayed in his newspaper items were uncommonly intimate. Witness the London Chronicle for December 19–January 1, 1765:
“The Philosophers, Politicians, Necromancers, and the learned in every faculty are desired to observe that on the first of January, being New Year’s day (oh, that we all may lead new lives!), Mr. Newbery intends to publish the following important volumes, bound and gilt, and hereby invites all his little friends who are good to call for them at the Bible and Sun, in St. Paul’s Churchyard, but those who are naughty to have none.”
Thomas in later years adopted the same method of advertising.
The most thorough piece of research work done by Mr. Charles Welsh is his “A Bookseller of the Last Century.” Had he aimed at nothing more than preserving the catalogue of Newbery’s books, he would have rendered a great service to the library student. But he has in addition written a very complete life of Newbery. When it is noted that this printer was brought into business relations with Robert Raikes, and was further connected with him by the union of Newbery’s son with Raikes’ sister, it is safe to believe that some of the piousness which crept into the publisher’s wares was encouraged by the zealous spirit of the founder of Sunday-schools. Raikes will be dealt with in his proper place.
Newbery was what may be termed an enthusiastic publisher, a careful manufacturer of books of the flower-and-gilt species. As a friend he has been pictured nothing loath to help the needy, but always with generous security and heavy interest attached; he was a business man above all else, and that betokens keenness for a bargain, a keenness akin to cleverness rather than to graciousness. In his “Life of Goldsmith,” Washington Irving is inclined to be severe in his estimate; he writes:
“The poet [Goldsmith] has celebrated him as the friend of all mankind; he certainly lost nothing by his friendship. He coined the brains of authors in the times of their exigency, and made them pay dear for the plank put out to keep them from drowning. It is not likely his death caused much lamentation among the scribbling tribe.”
One difficulty Newbery had to contend with was the piracy of his books; there was no adequate protection afforded by the copyright system, and we read of Goldsmith and Johnson bewailing the literary thievery of the day. By some it was regarded as a custom to be accepted; by others as a deplorable condition beyond control. Early American authorship suffered from the same evil, and Irving and Cooper were the two prominent victims.
The book list of Isaiah Thomas (1749–1831), the Worcester, Massachusetts printer, shows how freely he drew from the London bookseller. Called by many the Didot of America, founder of the American Antiquarian Society, author of one of the most authentic histories of early printing in this country, he is the pioneer of children’s books for America. He scattered his presses and stores over a region embracing Worcester and Boston, Mass.; Concord, N. H.; Baltimore, Md.; and Albany, N. Y. Books were kept by him, so he vouched, specially for the instruction and amusement of children, to make them safe and happy. In his “Memoirs” there is found abundant material to satisfy one as to the nature of reading for young folks in New England, previous to the Revolution.
Emerson writes in his “Spiritual Laws” regarding “theological problems”; he calls them “the soul’s mumps and measles and whooping-cough.” Already the sombre sternness of Colonial literature for children has been typified in the “New England Primer.” The benefits of divine songs and praises; the reiteration of the joy to parents, consequent upon the behaviour of godly children; the mandates, the terrible finger of retribution, the warning to all sinners lurking in the throat disease which was prevalent at one time—all these ogres rise up in the Thomas book to crush juvenile exuberance. Does it take much description to get at the miserable heart of the early piety displayed by the heroines of Cotton Mather’s volumes, those stone images of unthinkable children who passed away early, who were reclaimed from disobedience, “children in whom the fear of God was remarkably budding before they died”? Writers never fail to say, in speaking of Thomas White’s “Little Book for Children” (reprint of 1702), that its immortality, in the face of all its theology, is centred in one famous untheological line, “A was an archer who shot at a frog.”
What Thomas did, when he began taking from Newbery, was to change colloquial English terms to fit new environment; the coach no longer belongs to the Lord Mayor, but to the Governor instead.[29] The text is only slightly altered. We recognise the same little boys who would become great masters; the same ear-marks stigmatise the heroines of “The Juvenile Biographer,” insufferable apostles of surname-meaning, Mistresses Allgood, Careful, and Lovebook, together with Mr. Badenough. Oh, Betsey and Nancy and Amelia and Billy, did you know what it was to romp and play?
The evident desire on the part of Miss Hewins, in her discussion of early juvenile books, to emphasise the playful, in her quotations from Thomas’ stories, only indicates that there was little levity to deal with. Those were the days of gilded “Gifts” and “Delights”; the pleasures of childhood were strangely considered; goodness was inculcated by making the hair stand on end in fright, by picturing to the naughty boy what animal he was soon to turn into, and what foul beast’s disposition was akin to that of the fractious girl. Intentions, both of an educational and religious nature, were excellent, no doubt; but, when all is estimated, the residue presents a miserable, lifeless ash.[30]
So far no distinctive writer for children has arisen. The volumes issued by Newbery represent a conscious attempt to appeal through form to the juvenile eye. If the books were addressed intentionally to children, their amusement consisted in some extraneous novelty; it was rarely contained in the story. Action rather than motive is the redeeming feature of “Goody Two Shoes.” As for religious training, it was administered to the child with no regard for his individual needs. He represented a theological stage of sin; the world was a long dark road, through the maze of which, by his birth, he was doomed to fight his little way. Life was a probationary period.
It is now necessary to leave the New England book, and to return to it through another channel. The viewpoint shifts slightly; a new element is to be added: a self-conscious recognition of education for children. The sternness of the “New England Primer” possessed strength. The didactic school, retaining the moral factor,—several points removed from theology—sentimentalised it; for many a day it was to exist in juvenile literature rampant. And, overflowing its borders, it was to influence later chap-books, and some of the later publications of Thomas and Newbery. Through Hannah More, it was to grip Peter Parley, and finally to die out on American shores. For “Queechy” and “The Wide, Wide World” represent the final flowering of this style. In order to retain a clear connection, it is necessary to watch both streams, educational and moral, one at first blending with the other, and flourishing in this country through a long list of New England authors, until, in the end, the educational, increasing in volume, conquered altogether.