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_THE STORY OF DOCTOR DOLITTLE_
“A little town called Puddleby-on-the-Marsh”]
THE _Story of_ DOCTOR DOLITTLE
_BEING THE HISTORY OF HIS PECULIAR LIFE AT HOME AND ASTONISHING ADVENTURES IN FOREIGN PARTS. NEVER BEFORE PRINTED._
_TOLD BY HUGH LOFTING_ _ILLUSTRATED BY THE AUTHOR_
_Published by FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY at 443 FOURTH AVENUE, NEW YORK._
_A.D. 1920_
WITH AN INTRODUCTION TO THE TENTH PRINTING
BY HUGH WALPOLE
_Copyright, 1920, by_ FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
_All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign languages_
First Printing, Aug. 24, 1920 Second Printing, Dec. 17, 1920 Third Printing, April 16, 1921 Fourth Printing, July 7, 1921 Fifth Printing, Sept. 1, 1921 Sixth Printing, Oct. 26, 1921 Seventh Printing, Dec. 5, 1921 Eighth Printing, April 3, 1922 Ninth Printing, Aug. 18, 1922 Tenth Printing, Nov. 28, 1922 Eleventh Printing, April 2, 1923
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
TO ALL CHILDREN
CHILDREN IN YEARS AND CHILDREN IN HEART I DEDICATE THIS STORY
_INTRODUCTION TO THE TENTH PRINTING_
THERE are some of us now reaching middle age who discover themselvesto be lamenting the past in one respect if in none other, that thereare no books written now for children comparable with those of thirtyyears ago. I say written _for_ children because the new psychologicalbusiness of writing _about_ them as though they were small pills orhatched in some especially scientific method is extremely popularto-day. Writing for children rather than about them is very difficultas everybody who has tried it knows. It can only be done, I amconvinced, by somebody having a great deal of the child in his ownoutlook and sensibilities. Such was the author of “The Little Duke” and“The Dove in the Eagle’s Nest,” such the author of “A Flatiron for aFarthing,” and “The Story of a Short Life.” Such, above all, the authorof “Alice in Wonderland.” Grownups imagine that they can do the trickby adopting baby language and talking down to their very criticalaudience. There never was a greater mistake. The imagination of theauthor must be a child’s imagination and yet maturely consistent,so that the White Queen in “Alice,” for instance, is seen just as achild would see her, but she continues always herself through all herdistressing adventures. The supreme touch of the white rabbit pullingon his white gloves as he hastens is again absolutely the child’svision, but the white rabbit as guide and introducer of Alice’sadventures belongs to mature grown insight.
Geniuses are rare and, without being at all an undue praiser of timespast, one can say without hesitation that until the appearance ofHugh Lofting, the successor of Miss Yonge, Mrs. Ewing, Mrs. Gatty andLewis Carroll had not appeared. I remember the delight with which somesix months ago I picked up the first “Dolittle” book in the Hampshirebookshop at Smith College in Northampton. One of Mr. Lofting’s pictureswas quite enough for me. The picture that I lighted upon when I firstopened the book was the one of the monkeys making a chain with theirarms across the gulf. Then I looked further and discovered Bumporeading fairy stories to himself. And then looked again and there was apicture of John Dolittle’s house.
But pictures are not enough although most authors draw so badly that ifone of them happens to have the genius for line that Mr. Lofting showsthere must be, one feels, something in his writing as well. There is.You cannot read the first paragraph of the book, which begins in theright way “Once upon a time” without knowing that Mr. Lofting believesin his story quite as much as he expects you to. That is the firstessential for a story teller. Then you discover as you read on that hehas the right eye for the right detail. What child-inquiring mind couldresist this intriguing sentence to be found on the second page of thebook:
“Besides the gold-fish in the pond at the bottom of his garden, he had rabbits in the pantry, white mice in his piano, a squirrel in the linen closet and a hedgehog in the cellar.”
And then when you read a little further you will discover that theDoctor is not merely a peg on whom to hang exciting and variousadventures but that he is himself a man of original and livelycharacter. He is a very kindly, generous man, and anyone who has everwritten stories will know that it is much more difficult to makekindly, generous characters interesting than unkindly and mean ones.But Dolittle is interesting. It is not only that he is quaint but thathe is wise and knows what he is about. The reader, however young,who meets him gets very soon a sense that if he were in trouble, notnecessarily medical, he would go to Dolittle and ask his advice aboutit. Dolittle seems to extend his hand from the page and grasp that ofhis reader, and I can see him going down the centuries a kind of PiedPiper with thousands of children at his heels. But not only is he adarling and alive and credible but his creator has also managed toinvest everybody else in the book with the same kind of life.
Now this business of giving life to animals, making them talk andbehave like human beings, is an extremely difficult one. Lewis Carrollabsolutely conquered the difficulties, but I am not sure that anyoneafter him until Hugh Lofting has really managed the trick; even insuch a masterpiece as “The Wind in the Willows” we are not quiteconvinced. John Dolittle’s friends are convincing because their creatornever forces them to desert their own characteristics. Polynesia, forinstance, is natural from first to last. She really does care about theDoctor but she cares as a bird would care, having always some place towhich she is going when her business with her friends is over. And whenMr. Lofting invents fantastic animals he gives them a kind of crediblepossibility which is extraordinarily convincing. It will be impossiblefor anyone who has read this book not to believe in the existence ofthe pushmi-pullyu, who would be credible enough even were there nodrawing of it, but the picture on page 153 settles the matter of histruth once and for all.
In fact this book is a work of genius and, as always with works ofgenius, it is difficult to analyze the elements that have gone tomake it. There is poetry here and fantasy and humor, a little pathosbut, above all, a number of creations in whose existence everybodymust believe whether they be children of four or old men of ninety orprosperous bankers of forty-five. I don’t know how Mr. Lofting has doneit; I don’t suppose that he knows himself. There it is—the first realchildren’s classic since “Alice.”
HUGH WALPOLE.