The Grim Reaper - a history by Jenni Spangler

 

I was always one of the spooky kids – my bedtime reading was filled with ghost stories and my teenage fashion choices leaned towards goth. My mum took me exploring in graveyards and my uncles gave me books on poltergeists and real life ghost hunters. Maybe it was inevitable that I’d write a book with death front and centre.

Valentine Crow and Mr Death is about a foundling boy who, due to a clerical error, is apprenticed to the Grim Reaper. The challenge was finding a narrative about death that was the right sort of spooky for middle grade readers.

It was daunting. I was writing during a pandemic, watching my own children learn about death in a scary and sudden way. I didn’t want to sugar coat things – kids can see right through that – but I also didn’t want to terrify anyone.

We’re not very good at talking about Death in our culture – we distance ourselves from it, and it’s taboo to talk about in many circles. But for as long as we’ve been telling stories, we’ve been telling stories about death. We need stories to get our heads round the stark truth: one day, we won’t be here any more. As simple and as incomprehensible as that.

I read a lot of traditional folk tales in my research and found that stories about death tend to have two key messages – firstly that death is inevitable and necessary, and secondly that everyone is equal in death.

The Three Dead, from the Taymouth Hours, 14^th century

One of my favourites – which I borrowed to create a character in Valentine Crow – is ‘Mother Misery’. An old woman tricks Death into climbing an enchanted fruit tree which traps him in its branches. Initially her neighbours are pleased but over time they begin to suffer, as the very sick and old can no longer pass on to the afterlife. She lets him down only once he promises never to come for her, which is why we will always have misery in the world.

Another story tells of a young man who imprisons death to save his mother. But when he tries to cook their supper, he can neither pick vegetables nor kill a chicken, as animals and plants can no longer die. There’s a strange sort of comfort in these tales, because however dark they get (and some of them get VERY dark) they offer us a ‘why’ for death.

Illustration by John B Gruelle, of the story
‘Godfather Death’, Grimms Fairy Tales 1914

Turning death into a character scales it down to something easier to understand – once it has a face and a voice, it’s something we can interact with, bargain with, rail against.

The earliest depiction of death as a cloaked skeleton carrying a scythe was in the 14^th century, as the black death swept through Europe and cut down victims swiftly and indiscriminately, as a farmer cuts down a field of wheat at harvest time. The name ‘The Grim Reaper’ came much later, in 1847, and both name and image have stuck with us as the instantly recognisable figure of death.

Illustration by Noel le Mire of Death as a skeleton

with a scythe, from “la mort et le mourant”

At around the same time a motif called the ‘danse macabre’ became popular in medieval art. Grinning skeletons dance hand in hand with living people – kings, bishops and beggars alike - leading them merrily towards their demise. It works as a comfort to the poor and a warning to rich: whatever your status in life, we’re all going to the same place in the end.

 These are often surprisingly playful and comical images, and I love them for that. They’re not (only) an expression of the terror of death, but also evidence of dark humour in the face of unpleasant reality. The urge to take something ugly and scary and turn it into art and laughter.

Illustration of the Danse Macabre from the Nuremberg

Chronicle, by Hartmann Schedel (1440-1514)

It’s still with us, in our zombie movies and haunted house rides and on Halloween, when we dress our precious children up as ghosts and skeletons and ply them with sugary treats. An acknowledgment of death, and a defiance of it: we see you there, reaper, but we’re going to celebrate anyway.

Writing challenge – The Grim Reaper is a personification of death. Create a personification of a different abstract idea or concept (hope, truth, power etc). Think about how they might look, speak and move and how they might interact with other characters.

Jenni Spangler is the author of The Incredible Talking Machine, The Vanishing Trick and Valentine Crow and Mr Death.

Theatre school drop out, ex-999 operator and occasional forklift driver, Jenni writes children’s books with a magical twist. She loves to take real and familiar places and events and add a layer of mystery and hocus-pocus.

She was part of the first year of the ‘WriteMentor’ scheme, mentored by Lindsay Galvin, author of ‘The Secret Deep’. As well as her magical middle grade novels, Jenni writes short contemporary YA stories for reluctant and struggling readers, including Torn and Wanted for Badger Learning. Jenni has an Open University degree in English Language and Literature, a 500 metre swimming badge and a great recipe for chocolate brownies. She lives in Staffordshire with her husband and two children. She loves old photographs, picture books and tea, but is wary of manhole covers following an unfortunate incident. 

You can find out more about Jenni and her books at www.jennispangler.com and follow her on twitter and instagram

Child’s play – The wonderful world of the Victorian Toy Theatre by Ally Sherrick

I have long harboured an ambition to visit the wonderfully eccentric Gothic Revival villa of Strawberry Hill House in Twickenham, the creation of writer, art-historian and politician, Horace Walpole (1717-1797).

I read Walpole’s The Castle of Otranto, generally regarded as the first gothic novel, in the sixth form at school and I was keen to see what else his imagination had conjured into life in bricks and mortar.

My visit, in late August, coincided with the final weeks of a fascinating exhibition of late Regency and Victorian toy theatres, many of which took as inspiration the gothic melodramas that were so popular on the English stage in those days.

A toy theatre of the play, ‘Blue Beard’ by George Colman, dating from around 1862/3

The exhibition was staged by Strawberry Hill in association with Pollock’s Toy Museum in London who own an extensive collection of toy theatres dating back to the days of Benjamin Pollock, a publisher and seller of everything needed to put on performances of plays in miniature in your own home.

As I peered beyond the proscenium arch into the tiny worlds depicted on stages built from wood, cardboard and paper, I was transported back to a time when plays were the main form of dramatic entertainment, long before the world of film and television came to dominate visual storytelling.

Though people made their own toy stages and enjoyed putting on puppet plays, it wasn’t until 1811 that the first commercially-produced toy theatres, also known as paper theatres, began to be made.

With origins in the theatrical souvenir prints first produced by print publishers in Covent Garden, London’s main theatre district, they sought to replicate the popular theatre productions of the day. These were melodramas, pantomimes, folkloric tales and ballad opera, all of which involved plenty of action, scenery changes and more than a little blood and gore.

Scene from the popular melodrama, The Miller and His Men, or The Bohemian Banditti by Isaac Pocock dating from circa 1862

At first the toy theatre kits were quite limited in scope, made up wooden stages with a few sheets of characters and a selection of scenes. But as their popularity and that of theatre-going itself grew, they became more complex offering complete scenes, a wider range of characters – with costume changes –  and scripts based on the plays being presented on stage, cut down to make them easy to present at home. There was even the chance to buy tiny candles and oil-lamps to light the stage too – a risky business when everything was made of wood, card and paper!

Characters for a toy theatre published by Pollock

The characters and sets were drawn by professional artists including George Cruikshank who went on to illustrate the early editions of many of Charles Dickens’ novels. The artists modelled their work closely on the stage play and were usually given a free seat to make their sketches from life. They even gave the paper version of the actors they drew the same facial expression as the real-life ones. Copies of the original drawings were then printed on to paperboard for sale.

Drawing of Punch and Judy by George Cruikshank

During the first half of the 19^th century 300 of London’s most popular plays were issued as toy theatres and many of them were sold in theatre foyers to members of the audience attending the show as mementoes of their visit as well as playthings for their children. Theatre-owners loved them too because they acted as great free advertising for their shows.

Popular play-kits included Blue Beard, based on the original, grisly French fairy-tale about a man who kills his wives and locks them away in a secret chamber, The Mistletoe Bough, a chilling story about a girl who gets locked in a chest while playing a game of hide-and-seek at Christmas and The Miller and His Men. This, the most popular toy-theatre melodrama of its day, a tale of kidnap and robber-bandits hiding out in the forest, came complete with a small wad of gunpowder for lighting in the final fight scene  (see image above). Shakespeare’s history plays were also a popular subject as were the pantomime stories of The Forty Thieves, Aladdin and Sleeping Beauty.

A scene from The Mistletoe Bough; or, The Fatal Chest, a melodrama by Charles A. Somerset shown at the Garrick Theatre in 1834. Toy theatre version circa 1859

The typical price for a sheet of characters or scenery was “a penny plain and twopence coloured”. The word ‘plain’ referred to sheets printed in black and white. The ‘coloured’ sheets sold were pre-coloured, sometimes by hand.

Aside from the fact they were cheaper, there was great fun to be had from buying the ‘plain’ sheets as you could colour the stages and characters yourself. For either type, you could add extra decorative touches using bits of cloth and ‘tinsel’ (pieces of metal foil). You then cut the characters out and mount them on small sticks, wires or strings for moving around the stage as you spoke the lines.

Copy of The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood toy theatre script

The actual theatre ‘boxes’ the plays were staged in could be made at home or else bought in shops. The latter were quite large and elaborate and the more costly ones even had roll-up curtains. And no toy theatre was without its own orchestra pit!  

Behind the scenes of a toy theatre

Not surprisingly, adult toy-theatre enthusiasts of the day included several authors of children’s stories including, Lewis Carroll, Hans Christian Andersen, Oscar Wilde and Robert Louis Stevenson. Stevenson loved them so much he even wrote about them.

The author of many children’s books, Robert Louis Stevenson was a great fan

The heyday for toy theatres was from the early 1830s to the mid 1860s. After this time, few new titles were added and the move towards more ‘realistic’ plays in the theatre proved less-suited to the medium. The number of toy theatre publishers began to dwindle and, after 1890, there were only two main publishers of toy theatre kits – H.J. Webb and Benjamin Pollock. Pollock kept trading until he died in 1930. His stock was eventually bought up by an enthusiast and went on to form the basis of the collection now owned by Pollock’s Toy Museum.

Some Shakespeare plays were also adapted for toy theatre.
 This picture shows a close up of a scene in Richard III

If you want to marvel at these small miracles yourself and are planning a visit to London in the near future, then, in the words of Robert Louis Stevenson: ‘If you love art, folly, or the bright eyes of children, speed to Pollock’s ...’ Or alternatively, check  out their toy theatre page online including a great short video on how to put on a toy theatre play.

Let the play begin!

Watch Ally's You Tube video on toy theatres by clicking here

Ally Sherrick is the author of books full of history, mystery and adventure including Black Powder, winner of the Historical Association’s Young Quills Award 2017, The Buried Crown and Tudor-Set adventure, The Queen’s Fool. She is published by Chicken House Books and her books are widely available in bookshops and online. You can find out more about her and her books at www.allysherrick.com and follow her on Twitter: @ally_sherrick