as at hand. In a
series of able articles published some years ago, Miss Yonge has traced
the history of children's books. For a long time there were no such
things; then came some tales translated from the French and judiciously
trimmed, besides a few original stories of more or less merit, to which
latter category belonged _Goody Two-Shoes_. This was followed by the
reign of didactic works which began with Mrs. Trimmer, whose original
impulse came from Rousseau. It was his _Emile_ that had aroused the
school which produced Madame de Genlis in France, Campe in Germany, and
in England the Aikens, Hannah More, the Taylors of Norwich, and Mr.
Day. It was a famine that had to be met, and much stodgy food was
devoured, many long, hard words were laboriously spelt out, the pabulum
offered was but too often dull and dreary. Realism had invaded the
nursery, strong, high purpose was the first aim in view, and
entertainment was held a secondary consideration. As for the poor dear
fairies, they had been placed under a ban by the followers of Jean
Jacques. Fairy tales were treated as the novels of childhood, and held
by this school to cultivate the heart and imagination unduly, and to
arouse disgust with the assigned lot in life, which is rarely romantic,
but consists rather of common-place pleasure and pain.

The Edgeworths' ambition was to write the history of realities in an
entertaining manner; they held that it was better for purposes of
education, and more suited to the tastes of children, than improbable
fiction. The first proposition may, perhaps, be conceded, the second
scarcely. In any case, however, Mr. Edgeworth, who had a special leaning
to the _jejune_, had a particular dislike to this form of fiction.
"Why," he asked, "should the mind be filled with fantastic visions? Why
should so much valuable time be lost? Why should we vitiate their taste
and spoil their appetite by suffering them to feed upon sweetmeats?"
Even poetical allusions, he thought, should be avoided in books for
children. On the other hand, with the happy intuition he often
displayed, he recognized that the current children's books of his time
erred in introducing too much that was purely didactic, too many general
reflections. He urged his daughter to avoid these errors, to bear action
in view, and that whether in morals or in science, the thing to be
taught should seem to arise from the circumstances in which the little
persons of the drama were plac