“‘Be good, little Edmund,’ your mother will say,
She will whisper it soft in your ear,
And often repeat it, by night and by day
That you may not forget it, my dear.
“And the ant at its work, and the flower-loving bee
And the sweet little bird in the wood
As it warbles its song, from its nest in the tree,
Seems to say, ‘little Eddy be good.’”
The change in the character of the children’s books written by Americans had begun to be seriously noticed in England. Although there were still many importations (such as the series written by Mrs. Sherwood), there was some inclination to resent the stocking of American booksellers’ shelves by the work of local talent, much to the detriment of English publishers’ pockets. The literary critics took up the subject, and thought themselves justified in disparaging many of the American books which found also ready sale on English book-counters. The religious books underwent scathing criticism, possibly not undeserved, except that the English productions of the same order and time make it now appear that it was but the pot calling the kettle black. Almost as much fault was found with the story-books. It apparently mattered little that the tables were now turned and British publishers were pirating American tales as freely and successfully as Thomas and Philadelphia printers had in former years made use of Newbery’s, and Darton and Harvey’s, juvenile novelties in book ware.
In the “Quarterly Review” of 1843, in an article entitled “Books for Children,” the writer found much cause for complaint in regard to stories then all too conspicuous in bookshops in England. “The same egregious mistakes,” said the critic, “as to the nature of a child’s understanding—the same explanations, which are all but indelicate, and always profane—seem to pervade all these American mentors; and of a number by Peter Parley, Abbott, Todd, &c., it matters little which we take up.” “Under the name of Peter Parley,” continued the disgruntled gentleman, after finding only malicious evil in poor Mr. Todd’s efforts to explain religious doctrines, “such a number of juvenile school-books are current—some greatly altered from the originals and many more by adopters of Mr. Goodrich’s pseudonym—that it becomes difficult to measure the merits or demerits of the said magnus parens, Goodrich.” Liberal quotations followed from “Peter Parley’s Farewell,” which was censured as palling to the mind of those familiar with the English sources from which the facts had been irreverently culled.
The reviewer then passed on to another section of “American abominations” which “seem to have some claim to popularity since they are easily sold.” “These,” continued the anonymous critic, “are works not of amusement—those we shall touch upon later—but of that half-and-half description where instruction blows with a side wind.... Accordingly after impatient investigation of an immense number of little tomes, we are come to the conclusion that they may be briefly classified—firstly, as containing such information as any child in average life who can speak plainly is likely to be possessed of; and secondly, such as when acquired is not worth having.”
To this second class of book the Reverend Mr. Abbott’s “Rollo Books” were unhesitatingly consigned. They were regarded as curiosities for “mere occupation of the eye, and utter stagnation of the thoughts, full of empty minutiae with all the rules of common sense set aside.”
Next the writer considered the style of those Americans who persuaded shillings from English pockets by “ingeniously contrived series which rendered the purchase of a single volume by no means so recommendable as that of all.” The “uncouth phraseology, crack-jack words, and puritan derived words are nationalized and therefore do not permit cavilling,” continued the reviewer, dismayed and disgusted that it was necessary to warn his public, “but their children never did, or perhaps never will, hear any other language; and it is to be hoped they understand it. At all events, we have nothing to do but keep ours from it, believing firmly that early familiarity with refined and beautiful forms ... is one of the greatest safeguards against evil, if not necessary to good.”
However, the critic did not close his article without a good word for those ladies in whose books we ourselves have found merit. “Their works of amusement” he considered admirable, “when not laden with more religion than the tale can hold in solution. Miss Sedgwick takes a high place for powers of description and traits of nature, though her language is so studded with Americanisms as much to mar the pleasure and perplex the mind of an English reader. Besides this lady, Mrs. Sigourney and Mrs. Seba Smith may be mentioned. The former, especially, to all other gifts adds a refinement, and nationality of subject, with a knowledge of life, which some of her poetical pieces led us to expect. Indeed the little Americans have little occasion to go begging to the history or tradition of other nations for topics of interest.”
The “Westminster Review” of eighteen hundred and forty was also in doubt “whether all this Americanism [such as Parley’s ‘Tales’ contained] is desirable for English children, were it,” writes the critic, “only for them we keep the ‘pure well of English undefiled,’ and cannot at all admire the improvements which it pleases that go-ahead nation to claim the right of making in our common tongue: unwisely enough as regards themselves, we think, for one of the elements in the power of a nation is the wide spread of its language.”
This same criticism was made again and again about the style of American writers for adults, so that it is little wonder the children’s books received no unqualified praise. But Americanisms were not the worst feature of the “inundation of American children’s books,” which because of their novelty threatened to swamp the “higher class” English. They were feared because of the “multitude of false notions likely to be derived from them, the more so as the similarity of name and language prevents children from being on their guard, and from remembering that the representations that they read are by foreigners.” It was the American view of English institutions (presented in story-book form) which rankled in the British breast as a “condescending tenderness of the free nation towards the monarchical régime” from which at any cost the English child must be guarded. In this respect Peter Parley was the worst offender, and was regarded as “a sad purveyor of slip-slop, and no matter how amusing, ignorant of his subject.” That gentleman, meanwhile, read the criticisms and went on making “bread and butter,” while he scowled at the English across the water, who criticised, but pirated as fast as he published in America.