"The Tales of Jemima Puddle-Duck, Two Bad Mice, and Mr Jeremy Fisher," by Beatrix Potter

In which more adorable anthropomorphic animals are, respectively, too foolish to be trusted with important stuff, terribly destructive with no negative consequences, and never going fishing again.



I know, I said we were going to start a new book this time around. And we will! But, after posting the last trio of Beatrix Potter stories, an old college friend of mine specifically requested that I read "The Tale of Jemima Puddle-Duck," presumably for her children (though I'm not one to judge if not). Heck, why not? And, like last time, since they're so short I tossed in a couple of bonus ones as well. So, Kathy, Miri, and Jack, I hope you enjoy. And the rest of you too, I guess.

The Tale of Jemima Puddle-Duck

 

Frontispiece - Jemima thought
him mighty civil and handsome.

Title illustration

What a funny sight it is to see a brood of ducklings with a hen!

As mentioned in my introduction, that lady there is Mrs. Cannon (no, not given a first name in my references), who was the wife of the farm manager at Hill Top, Beatrix Potter's farm.

'I wish to hatch my own eggs; I will hatch them all by myself.'

She tried to hide her eggs; but they
were always found and carried off.

And those are Mrs. Cannon's children, Betsy and Ralph, to whom this tale was dedicated.

She was wearing a shawl and a poke bonnet.

2:48 - "poke bonnet." A poke bonnet is... well, the kind of bonnet that Jemima is wearing there, that you see at some point in pretty much any story that takes place in 19th-century England or America. It's got a wide, stiff brim that goes over and around the wearer's face to provide both shade and privacy.

When she reached the top of the
hill, she saw a wood in the distance.

She ran downhill a few yards flapping her shawl.

She flew beautifully when she had got a good start.

She was startled to find an elegantly
dressed gentleman reading a newspaper.

The gentleman raised his eyes above his newspaper.

'Ah! is that so? indeed!' said the
gentleman with sandy whiskers

He led the way to a very retired, dismal-
looking house amongst the fox-gloves.

4:59 - "built of faggots." Erm, in the UK, especially prior to the 20th century but even still today, the word "faggot" meant a a twig, or more commonly a bundle of twigs. The more modern and, um, extremely offensive meaning was first recorded in 1914, and even today is primarily used in the US.

The gentleman opened the door, and showed Jemima in.

It was very comfortable; and she
made a nest without any trouble at all.

When she came out, the sandy whiskered gentleman
was sitting on a log reading the newspaper.

He used to turn them over and count
them when Jemima was not there.

He... also apparently would take off his clothes to do so? I mean, look, these are still animals who by rights shouldn't be wearing clothes in the first place. But, you know, they've been anthropomorphized to varying degrees. Some, like Peter Rabbit and Jemima, only wear a couple of articles of clothing. Others, like Squirrel Nutkin and Kep (who we'll meet in a moment), wear none. But this guy was fully-clothed, pants and all! Except for here. I mean, look, I'm not gonna judge what foxes wear or don't wear while alone in the privacy of their own feather-shed, I'm just saying it seems an odd artistic choice is all.

'Let us have a dinner-party all to ourselves!'

She went round the farm-garden, nibbling off snippets of all
the different sorts of herbs that are used for stuffing roast duck.

Okay, see, this is a little less jarring, since Jemima only wears the bonnet and the shawl, and it's made fairly clear at the beginning that she really only even wears those when traveling outside of the farmyard. Perhaps I'm overthinking this.

Jemima was rather in awe of the
collie; she told him the whole story.

He went to look for two fox-hound puppies.

She was rather burdened with bunches
of herbs and two onions in a bag.

'Be sharp!' He was rather abrupt.

She heard pattering feet round the back of the shed.

And nothing more was ever seen of that foxy-whiskered gentleman.

The puppies rushed in and gobbled up
all the eggs before he could stop them.

Jemima Puddle-duck was escorted home in tears.

She laid some more in June, and she
was permitted to keep them herself.

So the moral is... don't try to take more responsibility than you can handle? Be aware when you're not suited for parenthood? Do trust people who have who sheds full of what are quite obviously bodily remains?

 

The Tale of Two Bad Mice

 

Frontispiece - He put the ham in the middle
of the floor, and hit it with the tongs!

Title illustration

Once upon a time there was a very beautiful doll's-house.

It belonged to two Dolls called Lucinda and Jane.

There were two red lobsters and a ham, a fish,
a pudding, and some pears and oranges.

11:42 - "the dolls' perambulator." A perambulator, also known as a pram, is what we in the US would be more likely to call a baby buggy. This has of course largely fallen out of favor for more modern methods of baby transport.

Tom Thumb put out his head for a moment.

A minute afterwards, Hunca Munca,
his wife, put her head out, too

It delights me how often I got to say "Hunca Munca" during this story.

They pushed the front door—it was not fast.

FUN FACT: The word "fast" is what is known as a contronym, meaning a word that holds contradictory meanings. An example would be, say, the word "off." In the morning, your alarm clock goes off, and then you turn it off. "Fast" can mean either "moving quickly from one place to another" or, as is intended in this case, "stuck firmly in one place."

Such a lovely dinner was laid out upon the table!

Tom Thumb set to work at once to carve the ham.

Hunca Munca stood up in her chair, and
chopped at the ham with another lead knife.

I'm not really sure what Hunca Munca's line "It's as hard as the hams at the cheesemonger's" means, precisely. My best guess is that's it's just some sort of insult towards cheesemongers. Also, I like to say "cheesemonger."

Cheeeeeeeeeeeeeesemonger.

The ham broke off the plate with
a jerk, and rolled under the table.

Bang, bang, smash, smash!

They put it into the red-hot crinkly paper fire
in the kitchen; but it would not burn either.

Tom Thumb went up the kitchen
chimney and looked out at the top

When she turned them upside down, there
was nothing inside except red and blue beads.

14:04 - "Sago." Sago is a starch that comes from the stem of certain tropical palms. It's used to make a type of flour, and is commonly made into small "pearls" that are similar to tapioca, which you can see is also available in the dolls' kitchen.

She remembered that she herself was in want of a feather bed.

14:27 - "bolster." As you can probably tell from context, a bolster is a long pillow or cushion.

With Tom Thumb's assistance she carried the bolster downstairs.

The book-case and the bird-cage refused to go into the mouse-hole.

Hunca Munca went to fetch a cradle.

The mice rushed back to their hole,
and the dolls came into the nursery.

What a sight met the eyes of Jane and Lucinda!

Hunca Munca has got the cradle, and some of Lucinda's clothes.

See, this here is a picture that really puts a different spin on the words. No mention is made in the narration of Tom Thumb and Hunca Munca having little baby mouselets. It doesn't necessarily excuse their wanton, angry destruction, but the thievery was quite obviously so that they might support their tiny, verminous children.

She also has some useful pots and pans, and several other things.

We also see here how animals start to anthropomorphize: it all starts with a few doll clothes and cookware.

'I will get a doll dressed like a policeman!'

 Look carefully at the windows: Jane and Lucinda are peeking out, clearly terrified that their house will be torn asunder by these vandals again.

But the nurse said,—'I will set a mouse-trap!'

"No no, it's perfectly safe. Go on, Timmy. You go first."

Upon Christmas Eve, he and Hunca Munca stuffed
it into one of the stockings of Lucinda and Jane.

You know, this whole thing is some sort of horror story if told from the perspective of Jane and Lucinda.

Oh, and Lucinda: Jane's your "cook," but she never does any cooking and she shares your bed? You're not fooling anyone.

Hunca Munca comes with her dust-pan
and her broom to sweep the Dollies' house!

And the moral of this one, I suppose is... that it's okay to break into people's houses to destroy and/or steal their property because it will ultimately civilize you? I feel like Potter is drifting away from the clear-cut morality tales of Peter, Nutkin, and Benjamin.

The Tale of Mr Jeremy Fisher

 

Frontispiece

Title illustration

Mr. Jeremy Fisher.

Jeremy here, with the dark spots behind his eyes and the stripes on his hind legs, is probably a common frog, found throughout most of Europe and into Russia.

But Mr. Jeremy liked getting his feet wet.

He was quite pleased when he looked
out and saw large drops of rain.

'I will get some worms and go fishing.'

He set off with enormous hops to
the place where he kept his boat.

18:53 - "macintosh." For those of us who live in the States, a Mackintosh (as the spelling has now been standardized) is a generic term for a raincoat, though properly speaking it specifically means one made out of a rubberized fabric. It was named for its creator, Charles Macintosh, who first started selling them in 1824. Apparently, the early coats had a tendency to melt in hot weather, and were also pretty smelly and stiff. This was largely fixed in the 1840s when Thomas Hancock, who by that point owned Macintosh's clothing company, patented the process of vulcanization. This process involves adding sulfur to the rubber (sulfur --> volcanoes --> Vulcan, Roman god of volcanos --> vulcanization), which cures it and makes it more durable, pliable, and less sticky. This now lets use use rubber for things like car tires, shoe soles, and hockey pucks.

...short answer: it's a raincoat.

The boat was round and green,
and very like the other lily-leaves.

Mr. Jeremy took a reed pole, and
pushed the boat out into open water.

He settled himself cross-legged
and arranged his fishing tackle.

For nearly an hour he stared at the float.

'I will eat a butterfly sandwich, and wait till the shower is over.'

A great big water-beetle tweaked the toe of one of his goloshes.

'I trust that is not a rat,' said Mr. Jeremy Fisher.

There was a bite almost directly!

'A minnow! a minnow! I have him by the nose!'

The stickleback floundered about the boat.

Sticklebacks are weird fish. They don't have scales, for one thing, though they do of course have sharp spines along their backs. All species of sticklebacks show a similar mating behavior, which is also odd for fish: the male makes a nest out of vegetation, the female lays her eggs in the nest, and the male fertilizes them and guards them until they hatch.

A shoal of other little fishes put their heads out, and laughed.

Mr. Jeremy sat disconsolately on the
edge of his boat, sucking his sore fingers.

A great big enormous trout came up—ker-pflop-p-p-p!
with a splash—and it seized Mr. Jeremy with a snap.

This trout is most likely a brown trout (Salmo trutta) which is the most common freshwater trout in Britain. And seriously, compare this illustration to the images on Wikipedia. Man, Beatrix Potter was good.

In less than half a minute it spat him out again.

He swam with all his might to the edge of the pond.

He scrambled out on the first bank he came to.

He hopped home across the meadow
with his macintosh all in tatters.

21:58 - "What a mercy that was not a pike!" Whereas a brown trout in a small freshwater pond would likely only grow to maybe a foot long and weigh a couple of pounds, the northern pike averages between two to five feet and can weigh over 50 pounds! They are also known to be pretty aggressive feeders that are not terribly particular about their prey, so it's doubtful that poor Jeremy's mackintosh would've put one of them off.

His friends both came to dinner.

Sir Isaac Newton wore his black and gold waistcoat.

AHAHAAA GET IT HE'S A NEWT! Oh, that really delights me more than it should. Sir Isaac here is probably a great or Northern crested newt (Triturus cristatus), the largest and rarest of the three newts native to Great Britain. Since the relative sizes here are unclear, the black-on-gold irregular blotches on his "waistcoat" are the clue. Assuming that Sir Isaac is, in fact, a male, we can also tell that it is not mating season, because then he would have a very large, prominent crest running down his back. Also, I'm a huge dork, and once again love Potter's attention to scientific details.

Mr. Alderman Ptolemy Tortoise brought
a salad with him in a string bag.

As an alderman, Mr. Ptolemy Tortoise is a member of the municipal assembly or council who was elected not by popular vote, but by members of the council themselves.

And... I'm really not sure what species of tortoise he's supposed to be. I didn't know this, but Great Britain doesn't actually HAVE any native species of turtle, except for some sea turtles around their coasts. There are now a couple of introduced terrapins, the red-eared slider and the European pond turtle, but those are both semi-aquatic, and Ptolemy here is quite definitely a land-dweller. Hmm. Probably someone's imported pet.

They had a roasted grasshopper with lady-bird sauce.

22:37 - "lady-bird sauce." Here's another England/US thing. In the States, we mostly call these "ladybugs." Apparently, entomologists tend to call them either ladybird beetles or lady beetles, since they aren't true bugs, which I didn't even know was a thing until now.

And the moral is: don't go fishing. Can do!

All right, that's all for now! Thanks for listening!


If you would like to read along, the texts and illustrations can be found at Project Gutenberg: Peter Rabbit, Two Bad Mice, and Mr Jeremy Fisher. No reading ahead, though!