The Doll Shop

Frank Starr, 1903

The Boy-child badly wanted a doll, a Man-doll, and the kind Earth Mother, who seldom refuses her children’s earnest requests, took his hand and led him to the great World Arcade. Here were toys innumerable, miniature Yeomanry, tiny Venezuelan gunboats, and almost as tiny British and German battleships—everything that a Statesman-child could desire. But the Boy-child wanted a Man-doll, other toys he would not. And so they passed on to the Civilisation Depot of Messrs. Soci, Ology and Co. This, of course was not the only civilisation. All the shopkeepers had Savage and Civilisation Departments, and some few even added Civil branches. At the firm of Diplomacy (Limited), for instance, you purchase your Maxim-gun solution at the Barbaric counter; the Civilisation Store supplied you with the new Christmas Ultimatum Game; while, in the section devoted to civil toys, Penruddocke Engimas, Penrhyn Anachronisms (or Out-of-date Tyrannies),¹ Trade Union Legislative Anomalies, and a host of other curious puzzles were obtainable.

But Messrs. Soci, Ology and Co. dealt only in dolls and their belongings, and here it was that the Boy-child stood open-mouthed at the hundreds upon hundreds of different species.

“A nice Man-doll, Ma’am? Certainly. We have all sorts and conditions of Man-dolls. Here is one we call the Proletaire. Rather a cheap article. Spoilt in the making, in my opinion, Ma’am. You see the material’s good, but there’s not sufficient padding. Indeed, they do tell me a very inferior class of sawdust is used, and, as I said before, not nearly enough of that.”

“Talk? Well, you can hardly call it talking, Ma’am. It makes a kind of inarticulate gurgle when pressed very hard. The principal thing I can say in its favour is that it stands a lot of knocking about. Possibly because it has little beauty to lose. But it really is a fact, this common, cheap, half-filled doll will sometimes last out two of the higher priced ones.”

“The little boy doesn’t like it in those clothes? Oh, but it has many different suits. The one it is now wearing we call the West Ham or Picturesque Rags suit. Then we have the Hodge or Distressed Labourer costume; the Tommy Atkins and Returned Reservist uniforms; the Police or Civil Protector livery, the Jack Tar, the Lifeboatman, and a hundred other suits.² In fact, the peculiarity of this doll is, Ma’am, that he’ll fit almost anything. Why we have one or two specimens arrayed in the M.P. or Representative Legislation dress, and very well they look, but somehow the public doesn’t take kindly to them yet.”

Fig. 7. Walter Crane’s The Cause of Labour Is the Hope of the World (1894), a Christmas card created for trade unions in the United Kingdom. De Agostini Picture Library / Bridgeman Images.

“Like to look at something more expensive? Here, you see, is a more stylish article altogether. This we call the Middle-class Doll. I can honestly recommend it as a good all-round serviceable doll. Last the little boy a generation or two. It’s coming more into fashion every day. Indeed, it is rumoured that entire districts produce nothing else than this kind of goods.”

“Oh, certainly, Ma’am, the price is a good bit higher. You see, there’s a lot more work put into them. You’ll notice the trunks are much more tightly packed, the limbs more shapely, and I have heard that some of the heads take years to make.”

“Many suits of clothes? Yes, but not so many as the Proletaire Doll. We never send out what we call ‘dangerous suits’ with this class, that is, the mining dress, platelayer’s uniform, and many others that you saw in the first section. Here, you see, are a number in the M.P. dress—the public takes to it better in this style of doll; others in journalistic and medical attire, while some are even in Naval and Military uniforms.”

“Oh, yes, Ma’am, they’re all good working dresses, but we put a little better quality into them, a little more gold braid than in the cheaper brands.”

“Now, step this way, please. We have a very superior kind in the Gilded Chamber, which I should like to show you.”

“All dressed alike? Yes, Ma’am, that’s what we call the Hereditary Legislator uniform, and, I’m sorry to say, not very serviceable at that.”

“Well, they have other clothes, but we supply very few what you might call hard-wearing suits with this style of doll.”

“Very expensive? Yes, indeed, Ma’am, and yet I don’t know why, unless it is that the majority are turned out at the old ’Varsity factories. I believe that they employ a lot of obsolete machinery there. Used to produce a first-rate article a few centuries back, and even now they do occasionally send out a tip-topper. But not often. However, it is said, there’s a likelihood of some change in the firm shortly, and then we may be able to show you something really first-class.”

“The little boy doesn’t like any of them? Wants a mixture of Proletaire and Aristocrat doll? Very sorry we can’t supply it, Ma’am. We have tried one or two as an experiment. There were the Charles Kingsley, the William Morris, and the John Ruskin³ styles. But they didn’t catch on at the time, and were withdrawn. Still, people are beginning to ask for them. Perhaps you’d look round again in a couple of centuries. Thank you. Good morning, Ma’am.”