Showing posts with label babies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label babies. Show all posts

Wednesday, 9 March 2011

Diary of a Victorian Baby No.2

Another piece cataloguing the life of a new baby in humorous terms, this time from the Sporting Times of 1881:

THE MENTAL EXPANSION OF THE JUVENILE.

THE first day or two after the birth of our child is more or less indistinct in our memory. It don't seem to be very definite or fixed. Floating through our wild waste of brain there is a chaotic panorama, and there seems to be nothing but a mixture of events. We see in our mind's eye an excited young man prancing wildly through the moonlight down town. The solemn hush of midnight seems to pervade everything. The young man seems to have dressed himself in a hurry, and one suspender is hanging down by his side. He rings a door bell and a physician comes to the door.
    There is a hurried conversation and then all is still. Pretty soon two men pass up the street.

* * *
It is to-morrow! A beautiful parboiled child is nestling in a roll of snowy blanket. The father gets a magnifying-glass and looks at the features.
    The nurse tells the father that the child is the living picture of him, and the enraged parent brains the nurse with a decorated wash-bowl.
    First day.— The child opens its mouth twice, emitting a falsetto wail that makes the cold chills go all over the neighbourhood.
    Second day.—The child passed a comfortable night ; more comfortable than the parents. The father has to get up at two o'clock a.m. for a soothing potion for the child. Gets one for himself at the same time.
    Third day.—Respiration normal, pulse regular, amount of laudable howl materially increased.
    Tenth day.—The mind begins to develop, and the father notices that his child has no teeth, and will have to be fed on new bread and bran mast for some time.
    Fifteenth day. The child passed the night, pawing the air and rehearsing a voluntary in G minor.
    Twentieth day.—Signs of internal disturbance, with indications of squalls and the pale blue colic.
    Twenty-first day.—Fell out of bed without fatal results.
    Thirtieth day.—Began to notice the father, and manifested a desire to become more thoroughly acquainted.
    Fortieth day.—The dissipated flush caused by late hours and constant attention to vocal music began to disappear.
    No noticeable change for several months, except the growth of the brain and partial disappearance of gastric rebellion.
    The growth of the mental faculties seemed then to be more and more noticeable, so that at this date the child already seems to know more that its parents. The mental expansion of the juvenile is something that is simply appalling.

Diary of a Victorian Baby No.1

I recently discovered a sub-genre of Victorian humour - the baby's diary. I say 'sub-genre' in that the Victorians rather liked humorous diary entries, and I can find a few by 'babies'.

Here's the first one I came across [I may publish some more detailed examples later]. It's not quite 'Stewie' from Family Guy but ...

A DISCONTENTED BABY'S DIARY


1. JANUARY. — Just born. Here's a lark! Papa does not seem very pleased, though.

1. FEBRUARY. — Every night Pa walks about up and down the bed-room with me when I squeal. I always squeal. I must do something.

1. MARCH. — Nurse is a spiteful thing; she sticks pins into a fellow on purpose.

1. APRIL. — After all, one may even weary of the bottle.

1. MAY. — I wish I could cut a tooth, I'd bite nurse.

1. JUNE. — What a nuisance it is to have relations who keep on saying "Ketchetty,
ketchetty," and dig in your ribs with their forefingers! When I grow up I'll do
it to them, and see how they'll like it.

1. JULY. — There are three babies next door got the measles. I get
nothing. It's awfully dull.

1. AUGUST. — One of the babies from next door came in to see us to—day; and I
heard Ma say, "He hasn't got the measles now," "No" said the babe's Ma. There's
a greedy sneak for you. Left 'em at home!

1. SEPTEMBER. — Nurse drinks something out of a black bottle. I've caught her
at it. It isn't the same that is in my bottle, either. If I were a bit bigger,
I'd change 'em.

1. OCTOBER. — Blessed if this ain't a nice go, neither. Some one called
to—day to see Ma and Pa, and they said it was Uncle, and gave me to him to kiss.
He didn't kiss me, though, with what you might call a good will. Then they asked
him again, and then they gave me to him to nurse, and he pinched me.

1. NOVEMBER. — This is worse than ever. Why, here's another baby now, and
they say he belongs to our house; and they're not going to send him away. Don't
even know how to feed himself out of the bottle. Well, of all — never mind.

1. DECEMBER. — Got to sleep in the same crib with him now! Wait till he goes
to sleep, I'll give him such a oner!  . . . Here's a beast of a baby! He
won't
go to sleep, and not a soul in the same crib can get a blessed wink.

Judy Almanac for 1880

Tuesday, 25 January 2011

We Are Amused

A marvellous article, filleted a little, about how to amuse small children, from the Leisure Hour, 1875. The detailed instructions on 'this little piggy' are brilliant.

HOW TO AMUSE THE BABIES

Every mother who has babies of her own, and everyone who has other people's babies to mind and care for, is aware of the fact that when a baby is wide awake it must and will be amused. It is not only necessary for the peace of the household, but promotive of the health of Miss or Master baby, to amuse him, or her, as the case may be. It awakens the intelligence of the child, it exercises its limbs, and all the muscles of those limbs, for baby is a very demonstrative person, and his delight is expressed by a great deal of gesticulation. Even crying has some compensating good in exercising the lungs, but laughter is always useful by promoting the general circulation and digestion in particular.
    For the wee-wee earliest young, sounds alone  suffice, as with the triangle in our picture. Without any instrumental aids, animated movement, tone of voice, and manner, make up the chief attraction; but babies of two or three years old generally hare a keen perception of the humorous. They criticise from a different point of view from what we do, and they see fact and fiction in a totally different light, a vaster range of being than in after years is true and real for them. Babydom is a world separate from ours, and comparatively fow amongst us hare power to understand baby language, to sympathise with baby thought, and still less to compose works or use language mith sufficient merit to meet the approval of baby censorship. Few, if any, of us remember how we thought and felt, and from what point of view we regarded such things in our own child days. Success in amusing or interesting is best gained by observation of what things have most eff'ect on young imaginations. The keenest touch of wit, the rare tit-bits of fun contained in baby games and rhymes, seem to most grown people arrant nonsense. But happy he or she who can enter into the fairy world of the little ones, and bring the bright light into their little eyes and the rosy smiles on their dim led cheeks, and the merry laugh from their musical voices. There is more art and merit in composing a single nursery rhyme, mith the genuine ring about it, than in stringing together a whole sensational novel, or in writing volumes of verse such as the critics call poetry in these days. What intense fun and  amusement always exists in the juvenile mind in "Pat a cake, pat a cake!" Can any baby resist bursting into a merry peal of laughter invariably when it comes to "mark it with B" ? or fail to go into a fit of uproarious fun when the little pig "cried  tweek! tweek! tweek!" in the game of the three little pigs? . . .

 . . . . To amuse baby children requires considerable histrionic art. Eloquence and action must he infused into all that is said. "A plain unvarnished tale" will not suffice to interest them. It is the manner in which the rords are spoken that gives effect to the drama, or points to the tale. Various comic voices must be assumed, and sensational gestures
descriptive of the words employed.
    For instance, say quietly and tamely, as in ordinary reading :-
    This little pig went to market ;
    This little pig stayed at home;
    This little pig had roast beef;
    This little pig had none;
    This little pig cried, "Tweak! tweak! tweak!"
It wil1 have little or no effect on a very young child.
But mark the difference. Take the baby hand in one of yours. Spread out the hand. Point to the
thumb, and say decidedly, yet confidingly-
    1.  "This little pig went to market." (Grunt and let it be an ordinary pig's grunt.)
    Point to the next finger and say, in the deepest bass you can assume-
    2.  "This little pig stayed at home." (Give a morose bass grant and frown.)
    Point to the next finger and say, with an insinuating tone and smile, elevating your eyebrows and bowing-
    3.   "This little pig had roast beef" (and add three quick little grunts of satisfaction).
    Point to the next finger and say, in a voice just ready to cry-
    4.   "This little pig had none." (Give two low grunts of weariness, and look ready to cry.)
    Then pointing to the little finger, say very pleasantly, in a shrill, droll voice, laughing meanwhile, "This little pig cried, 'Tweak! tweak! tweak!'" pinching and twirling the child's finger gently, as if you had hold of the pig's tail.
    This makes a complete harmless drama of the story of the pigs, and rouses baby's feelings, sensations and ideas in a healthy manner. Five distinct emotions are raised: 1. Interest; 2. Fear; 3. Pleasure or sympathy; 4. Grief, almost to tears; 5. A sudden reversion to mirth, and "All's well that ends well," a great desideratum in baby estimation. We must remember too, that the feelings during babyhood are ephemeral in the extreme, light and evanescent. . . .
. . . Anumber of children of two or three years of age may be very well diverted with "the well-known toys," "the dancing sailor," or the celebrated donkeys that have been advertised as creating "roars of laughter." If the child or children are in cradles, a string may be tied from one leg to another of the table, and a figure or two of this sort suspended from it. The string across is not to be quite tight, so that by attaching another string long enough to reach where she is sitting, thw mother may, from time to time, renew the vibration  by a dexterous pull.
    Here is another way of amusing a cllild, or a whole room full of them, by a  performance sure to have "a long run" in babydom. All that is wanted is a sheet of paper, four large highly coloured figures, and a couple of common rattles. A common green lamp shade will be better than the sheet of paper. Pin the four figures round the shade, fix the shade over the jack, which must be suspended from the ceiling by a rope, and have a weight attached, such as the kitchen scales will afford, or an old flat-iron, to cause it to turn round. Below the weight set the rattles at the same distance with string. As the jack turns and shows the figures alternately, the rattles will knock against one another and make a noise.
    A moving diorama may also be constructed by the help of two jacks enclosed by cardboard cylinders, and fixed at opposite sides of the room. For durability the panorama had better consist of paper pasted on calico. On this paste all the coloured pictures you can get - figures, birds, flowers, fruit, etc. - after having neatly cut them out. An end is to be fixed to either of the jacks. Roll up one to within the length required, then roll up the other, hang a weight on, and the performance will commence. When it is desired to stop the performance, the weights must be removed. For a charitable institution no doubt friends would be willing to contribute the necessary materials.
     A simple way to amuse young children is by cutting rows of figures out of white paper, old letters etc. The paper is folded as many times as the scissors will cut through, and a whole row of young ladies, or milkmaids with their pails, brought into existence by a single cut of the scissors. The two ends of the paper should be held, and the young ladies or milkmaids caused to dance on the table.
    Children of two years to five years old can be taught to amuse themselves for hours by pricking pictures. Draw an outline of any object they can understand - a man, a woman, a house, a bird, a cat, a fireplace, etc. and fix the corners by four pins over a pincushion. Then show the child how to prick all round the outline with a pin, pricks at regular intervals. When finished, the pin-picture is held up to the light, which comes like rows of little stars through the pricks. Printed outlines for pricking can be bought at a small cost.
    The Kinder Garten is eminently suited for amusing, training and teaching very little children, especially when brought together in numbers. The little employments with sticks and peas are readily entered into by children from two to four years of age, and it is wonderful the ingenuity some of them soon begin to display. Of more value, whether at school or in the nursery at home, are various play games, such as "Here we go round the mulberry-tree," which promote healthy exercise and mirth.
The Leisure Hour, 1875