Politically Bowdlerized

I admit it. I prefer my romances to be, well romantic, with nothing more than sweet kisses, clasping of hands, and the fervent meeting of glances. But I do believe there is room in the world for romances of a more, er, passionate nature. Unfortunately, in the nineteenth century, my views would have been seen as far too liberal, and my books might have been edited to remove portions unsuited to young audiences. Even the classics like Shakespeare were deemed too risqué for women and children in some circles.

That’s where Thomas Bowdler came in. He was a physician who took ill early in his career and decided not to practice medicine any longer. Instead, he devoted himself to good works, including working for prison reform. Along the way, he decided it would be good for families to be able to read Shakespeare and other classics, if only there weren’t so many naughty words and irreverent concepts in them.

So, in 1807, he published a collection called the Family Shakspeare (which apparently was the way the name was spelled then), which claimed to have removed any term thought to give offense to women and children. Included in these terms were curses, acts of violence such as Ophelia’s suicide in Hamlet, and entire characters with unsavory professions. The book took a while to gain a following, but as the Victorian period came into full swing, sales increased. The book saw more than 11 editions by 1850. Some reviewers were appalled and labeled it pap in its worst form. Others lauded the publication as making the Bard accessible to a much broader group of readers.

Here is what Mr. Bowdler said to justify the changes:

If a presumptuous artist should undertake to remove a supposed defect in the Transfiguration of Raphael or in the Belvidere Apollo and in making the attempt should injure one of those invaluable productions of art and genius I should consider his name as deserving never to be mentioned or mentioned only with him who set fire to the Temple of Diana. But the works of the poet may be considered in a very different light from those of the painter and the statuary. Shakspeare, inimitable Shakspeare, will remain the subject of admiration as long as taste and literature shall exist and his writings will be handed down to posterity in their native beauty although the present attempt to add to his fame should prove entirely abortive. Here then is the great difference. If the endeavour to improve the picture or the statue should be unsuccessful the beauty of the original would be destroyed and the injury be irreparable. In such a case let the artist refrain from using the chisel or the pencil; but with the works of the poet no such danger occurs and the critic need not be afraid of employing his pen for the original will continue unimpaired although his own labours should immediately be consigned to oblivion.

Interesting argument, no? I’m fairly certain that I would not have the same tender feelings toward someone “improving” my work. But here’s something else interesting about Bowdler’s version of Shakespeare.

It appears he didn’t do the editing. His sister did.

Now, if a lady editing a book to remove things no lady should read doesn’t make you scratch your head, consider this: Henrietta, called Harriet in her family, was an author in her own right. Perhaps her best known work, published anonymously, was Sermons on the Doctrines and Duties of Christianity, which supposedly went through nearly fifty editions, to the delight of ministers across the Empire (who had no notion she wasn’t an elderly clergyman). She was also accorded by some the title of bluestocking, those well-read ladies who delight in literature. Yet it does not seem to have troubled her to have changed someone else’s writing, without request or permission, all in the name of making it more palatable to a group of people.

Slippery slope.

Is it any wonder bowdlerize has come to mean to change a work, whether book, play, or movie, by removing parts that would offend people?

Move Over Ackermann’s: Godey’s Lady’s Magazine Has It Going On

Marissa’s collection of fashion plates from Ackermann’s Repository, La Belle Assemblée, and Phillips’ Fashion are enough to make any history-loving lady swoon.  But as my stories moved from early nineteenth century England to mid-nineteenth century America, I discovered another publication that was the go-to magazine for the fashion-conscious young lady:  Godey’s Lady’s Book.

Godey’s was the brainchild of Louis A. Godey, who saw the growing need for a magazine tailored specifically to the lady of the house.  He hired a female editor, Sarah J. Hale, herself an author (often remembered for writing “Mary Had a Little Lamb”), who also ensured the rest of the staff was predominantly female.  In fact, Godey boasted at having a corps of 150 female colorers who hand-tinted the fashion plates that started every issue.

Godey’s started out by carrying articles from British women’s magazines.  In fact, the magazine had its own reporter simply to chronicle royal activities across the Pond.  Though Sarah Hale (the young woman on the left) was purportedly a huge fan of Queen Victoria, she wanted more of an American angle for the magazine.  She was also a staunch supporter of women’s rights, believing that women must be redeemed from their inferior position and placed as an equal help-mate to man in every way. 

She therefore commissioned articles, essays, stories, and poetry from American writers including Harriet Beecher Stowe and Frances Hodgson Burnett.  Nathaniel Hawthorne, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Edgar Allen Poe, and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow also contributed.  Articles covered health and science, crafts, dancing, horseback riding, home decorating, hairstyles and fashion, and recipes.  Every issue included two pages of new sheet music for the pianoforte.  And women paid for the privilege of reading it.  Subscriptions ran at three dollars a year when other popular magazines of the time were only two dollars. 

Despite its broad coverage, Godey’s steered clear of politics.  The Civil War was never mentioned in its pages.  One source I consulted claimed that readership was cut by a third from its high of 150,000 subscribers during the war, implying that it was because of Godey’s non-political stance.  I’m more inclined to believe that the magazine’s subscriptions fell during that time because women were counting pennies as husbands and fathers went off to war.  Regardless, Godey’s popularity led it to become a major force in America.  The magazine is credited with popularizing a white wedding in America (after Victoria did so in England), the use of a Christmas tree to crown that celebration, and the creation of Thanksgiving as a national holiday.

Godey and Hale died within 5 months of each other (Godey in 1878 and Hale 1879).  The magazine continued on until 1898 when the next owner passed away.

But the literary legacy of Godey’s crossed the plains and helped settle the West.  Beth Wallin, the younger sister of my hero Drew in Would-Be Wilderness Wife, was a particular devotee.  And now you know why.

So what about you?  Do you think you'd be an all-American Godey's girl or an Anglophile for Ackermann's?

Guest Blogger Jackie Horne on Teen Reads in the 19th Century

Harry Potter, Twilight, The Hunger Games — many of the most popular books for young adults today are works of fantasy. If you were a teenager in the 19th century, though, the books you’d be reading would be far different.

In 1884, Charles Welsh sent out a circular to schools for boys and girls in England, asking students to answer questions about their reading preferences. What is your favourite book, and why do you like it best? Who is your favorite author? Which of his books do you like best? What other writers of fiction do you like? are among some of the questions he asked. Welsh received responses from 790 boys and more than a thousand girls aged eleven to nineteen. His colleague, Edward Salmon, undertook the work of tabulating the results of what may be the first poll of child readers’ tastes and interests, issuing his findings in the introduction to his book, Juvenile Literature As It Is, published in London in 1888.

Salmon’s list of the most popular authors and books tell us two surprising things about teen readers in the late Victorian period. First, although a vibrant market for books written specifically for children existed at the time, teen readers polled by Welsh preferred authors who wrote for a broader audience, not only for children. The top vote-getting among both boys and girls asked about their favorite author is a novelist whom today we categorize as an “adult” writer: Charles Dickens, whose novels were appreciated by family members young and old in the 19th century. Only two authors who wrote primarily for children appeared on the list of girls’ favorite writers (Charlotte Mary Younge and Hans Christian Andersen), and none on the boys’ (Captain Marryat wrote for both children and adults, but his adult seafaring adventure novels were far more popular than his moralistic children’s books).

The second interesting observation has to do with gender. The children’s book market was clearly split into books intended for boys (primarily adventure novels) and books intended for girls (primarily domestic stories), and in the case of male teen readers, this split continues into the teen years. With the exception of Dickens and Shakespeare, the remainder of boys’ top ten authors are all wrote in the genres of adventure or historical romance. Girls tastes, in contrast, were far more wide-ranging: favorite books included historical romances (The Days of Bruce, Westward Ho!), domestic novels (Little Women, The Daisy Chain), social realism (John Halifax, Gentleman, David Copperfield), sentimental fiction (The Wide, Wide World), and, of course, The Bible.

The mid-19th century is often referred to as the “Golden Age” of children’s literature, for this is when works of fantasy for children first began to flourish (Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Charles Kingsley’s The Water Babies, and Mrs. Molesworth’s The Cuckoo Clock, to name just a few). Ironically, though, the only fantasy novel mentioned on either list is F. Anstey’s Vice Versa (which readers and filmgoers today might recognize as the precursor for the Disney film Freaky Friday). Would 19th century teens find Harry Potter as appealing as young readers do today?

Boys’ top ten authors:
C. Dickens (223 votes) W. H. Kingston (179) Sir W. Scott (128) Jules Verne (114) Captain Marryat (102) R. M. Ballantyne (67) H. Ainsworth (61) Shakespeare (44) Mayne Reid (33) Lord Lytton (32)

Boys’ top ten books:
Robinson Crusoe (43) Swiss Family Robinson (24) Pickwick Papers (22) Ivanhoe (20) Boy’s Own Annual (17) The Bible (15) Tom Brown’s Schooldays (15) Valentine Vox (13) Vice Versa (12) St. Winifred’s, or The World of School (11)

Girls’ top ten authors:
Charles Dickens (355) Sir Walter Scott (248) C. Kingsley (103) C. M. Yonge (100) Shakespeare (75) Mrs. Henry Wood (58) E. Wetherell (Susan Warner)(56) George Eliot (50) Lord Lytton (46) Andersen (33)

Girls’ top ten books:
Westward Ho! (34) The Wide, Wide World (29) The Bible (27) A Peep Behind the Scenes (27)John Halifax, Gentleman (25) David Copperfield (22) Little Women (21) Ivanhoe (18) The Days of Bruce (16) The Daisy Chain (13)

About Jackie: A former children's book editor, Jackie Horne is the author of History and the Construction of the Child in Early British Children's Literature (Ashgate 2011) and coeditor of Kenneth Grahame's The Wind in the Willows and Frances Hodgson Burnett's The Secret Garden, volumes in the Children's Literature Association's Centennial series. She has taught courses in Victorian Children's Literature and Fantasy and Science Fiction for Children at the Center for the Study of Children's Literature at Simmons College. She's also currently at work writing a Regency-set historical romance for adult readers.

Happy Birthday, Charles and Laura!

February 7 just happens to be the birthday of two extraordinary figures in English language literature: Charles Dickens, who is celebrating his 200th this year, and Laura Ingalls Wilder, celebrating her 145th. Happy birthday to you both!

I’m not going to write a conventional biographical post on these two—you can find that easily enough on your own. Nor do I think it necessary to post a list of their works—also easily obtainable elsewhere. What I’m offering today are a few words on part of why I think they are important figures now in 2012. I hope that you’ll post your thoughts as well—your thoughts on their place in your lives as a reader, your favorite book by them—whatever you like.

First, Mr. Dickens. My husband just finished reading Stephen Pinker’s new book The Better Angels of Our Nature (yes, a Christmas gift from me), which discusses why he thinks that on the whole, civilization has progressed and violence in society has declined over the last couple of thousand years. You may or may not agree with him (I haven’t read the book yet, but it sounds fascinating) but he made one point that struck my DH strongly, and that he passed on to me: that one of the reasons western society as a whole has become a gentler place over the last two hundred years is the rise of novel reading since the 18th century—that reading novels (which became more affordable and obtainable via libraries in the 19th century) forced people to temporarily inhabit the skins of other people and live through their joys and sorrows, and thus develop empathy. Poor people weren’t just lazy or somehow inherently bad—they were human beings too, with aspirations and dreams, and deserved respect and help rather than scorn. If there was ever a champion of the poor in literature, that person has to be Charles Dickens. Thank you, sir, for helping to civilize the world. Who said that books don’t possess power?

And now, Mrs. Ingalls. Okay, so I’m an unashamed LIW fan and have been since fourth grade—let’s just get that said up front. I still re-read her Little House books every few years; interestingly, the book I had the hardest time with and liked the least back then (The Long Winter) is now my favorite. I have read biographies of her and of Rose Wilder Lane and understand that her books are indeed, as she said, the truth, but not all of it. But I think she’s part of the origin of my history geekishness and my fascination with the details of how people once lived; she’s also a symbol, to me, of the sweep of history. Think about this: she was born two years after the end of the Civil War, and died just months before the first satellite went into earth orbit. In between that she saw the fall of horse power and sail and the preeminence of the engine on sea and land; she saw the telephone, the motorcar, radio, and television, the birth of medicine as a science, and the emancipation for women. What a life to have lived! Thank you, Mrs. Ingalls, for bringing part of that history to life for me.

P.S. In a few weeks we'll learn more about what teens read in the 19th century. Stay tuned!