Title: An Unusual Hero: Perspective and Point of View in The Tale of Peter Rabbit

Title: An Unusual Hero: Perspective and Point of View in The Tale of Peter Rabbit

Author(s): Carole Scott

Publication Details: Beatrix Potter's Peter Rabbit: A Children's Classic at 100. Ed. Margaret Mackey. Lanham, Md.: The Children's Literature Association and The Scarecrow Press, Inc., 2002. p19-30.

Source: Children's Literature Review. Ed. Jelena Krstovic. Vol. 165. Detroit: Gale. From Literature Resource Center.

Document Type: Critical essay

Full Text: COPYRIGHT 2011 Gale, Cengage Learning

Full Text: 

[(essay date 2002) In the following essay, Scott explores questions of perspective and voice in Potter's The Tale of Peter Rabbit.]

Like the Victorian-Edwardian period itself, the apparently straightforward Tale of Peter Rabbit--the archetypical naughty-boy story with appropriate moral ending--readily reveals its intricate nature as soon as its surface is penetrated. While the story itself may be relatively simple, the complexity of the narrative perspective and point of view epitomizes the multiple levels of apparent and covert ideologies, values, attitudes, biases, and hypocrisies that the era sustained and toward which Potter's own ambivalences are apparent. Margaret Mackey, in The Case of Peter Rabbit, states that "On the surface, she is clearly on the side of law and order. ... But the detached tone with which Potter describes Peter's disobedience actually functions to raise the question of just whose side she is on."¹ This important question deserves careful attention, and not only raises issues that involve the techniques and forms of communication that Potter employs to convey her ambivalent perspectives, but also leads us to examine the nature and role of her protagonist.

It is true that somewhat moralistic overtones pervade the book's verbal narrative and that only adults' words are recorded as spoken (we never hear directly from Peter or his sisters). However, I am not alone in my judgment that the sympathies of Potter, and thus the reader, are with Peter, despite, or perhaps even because of, his naughtiness, his flouting of the adults' received wisdom.² The inherent discord or disharmony between moral stance and affect gives energetic life to the plot. Although Peter disobeys his mother and causes her anxiety and grief, commits trespass and theft, and evades paternalistic authority symbolized by Mr. McGregor (who also represents the landed sector of society defending its borders from propertyless rabble), nonetheless he escapes all punishment for his misdeeds, except for a temporary stomachache resulting from his greediness. We cannot even applaud Peter's actions as revenge for his father's death, for it is his delight in breaking rules that motivates him.

While Potter as a young woman was a comfortable supporter of the class system and expresses in her diary her lack of sympathy with unemployed rioters to whose antisocial actions she was a witness,³ there is little doubt that Peter, who stands for rebellion on all fronts, is the hero of the story. The techniques Potter uses to manipulate her reader to identify with Peter, and the characteristics of this unlikely hero will form the focus of this discussion.

The Role of Word-Image Interaction in Establishing Perspective and Point of View

Narratologists have made many attempts to grapple with the viewpoints from which a story is told, categorizing the relationship between the author and his or her narrative voice or voices, and the techniques involved in description, dialogue, and analysis that persuade the reader to see the characters and events as the author intends. We are all familiar with the range stretching from the omniscient third person to the single character's filtered analysis, with the variety of explicit and implicit values and world views of author and narrative voice(s), and with the tone and use of words that convince us with their honesty or, by means of delicate irony, subtly undermine the apparent statement.

The complexity of narrative perspective is multiplied in picture-books, for pictures present characters and events in different ways and with different techniques from verbal texts, providing additional or alternative perspectives that add dimension to the reader's experience. The dynamic and sometimes unrecognized interaction between verbal and visual perspective and point of view deepens the reader's involvement in and comprehension of the story. In Potter's books, because she is both author and illustrator, the interplay between the two forms of communication is of special interest, since the two together express the creator's intention.⁴

In many of Beatrix Potter's books, Peter Rabbit included, the boundary between verbal text and illustration is absolute, in one sense at least, for words and pictures are on separate pages, divided by the gutter between them. In Peter Rabbit, except for the title page, cover and endpapers, no word of any kind appears in the pictures, and no hint of illustration creeps into the words. This format is totally consistent, with text and picture facing each other and printed with text back-to-back with text and picture back-to-back with picture, providing a sequence of doublespreads that read picture/text, text/picture, picture/text, etc.

This absolute division is softened, though, by the absence of a frame or border around the illustration, and by the irregular shape of the picture, which gives it a sense of freedom on the page rather than a feeling of being fixed in one place or form. This effect is reinforced by the variability in the illustrations' shape and the degree of contextual detail they provide. While the picture of Peter looking from the wheelbarrow toward the gate (48)⁵ is in rough rectangle form with detailed fore-ground, middle, and distant views in perspective, the picture of Peter jumping into the watering can is completely without background or contextual setting (36). Between these two extremes is the picture of Mr. McGregor chasing Peter and waving a rake (27) in which the patch of ground on which Peter stands and the strip between them is featured, thus depicting the relationship between the two figures in spatial terms, but providing no further detail in the way of context.⁶

This continual shift in perspective, scope of vision, and setting creates a fluctuating rather than a fixed viewpoint. The variability of shape, detail, and degree of perspective finds echoes in the verbal text that involves changes in extent--from a few words to a full page--as well as in voice, diction, and approach. Thus the mutability of the two forms, especially the visual inconsistency, tends to subvert the formal separation between the picture page and the word page, as does the rhythmic reversal of picture-text order. We are alerted to the restless interaction that occurs between the facing pages with their different modes of expression, rather than to the gutter that divides them.

The narrative voice sometimes takes an adult judgmental tone: "Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail ... were good little bunnies." "But Peter ... was very naughty" (17-18). And certainly Mother Rabbit's perspective is focalized through her instructions and warnings to her children, and in her concern about Peter's irresponsibility: "It was the second little jacket and pair of shoes that Peter had lost in a fortnight!" (54). More often, the narrative voice is objective, even distanced in its presentation, and contrasts with the closeness and immediacy of the pictures. The full justification of the text adds to the formality of the tone. As we examine the interaction between the two more closely, the skillfully crafted dynamic becomes increasingly apparent. While the narrative voice of the verbal text may be ambiguous, the illustrations are clear.

The story opens with a picture of wild rabbits at the root of a tree, but the narrative voice of the accompanying text immediately challenges the veracity of the woodland scene, since the rabbits, though pictured as wild, are named and humanized. This naming is a foreshadowing of the next doublespread, where both image and words transform the rabbits into clothed creatures capable of human speech. This initial picture, though, establishes the perspective of the illustrations, for the rabbits are looking directly at the reader, at their own level, not upward to a large human being. This sense of closeness and immediacy is reinforced by the limits of the illustration, for the picture is all foreground, and the line of sight includes just a few feet of the tree trunk. While a hazy background of other trees provides an impressionistic context, the scene itself is quite limited, rather like looking through a peephole. This low-to-the-ground and close-up, limited view is repeated in most of the illustrations. Almost every picture features Peter close up and within touching distance, focusing on the small rabbit and helping us to identify with him. When Mr. McGregor appears, he is always on the far side of Peter; it is Peter's line of sight that we share. The illustrations rarely give us a long view or range of perspective: when they do, the reader takes Peter's point of view, or one close to it. Examples may be found in two consecutive pictures that feature Peter and the gate to freedom: the first shows Mr. McGregor interposed between Peter and the gate (48); the second features Mr. McGregor running toward it and us, but too far away to catch Peter (51).

Setting the viewpoint of the illustrations so low to the ground and with such a constricted vision continually reinforces the sense of peril and the reader's identification with Peter and his plight. This identification dramatically instills fear and tension in the reader, and interacts with the frequently distanced voice of the verbal narrative. An excellent example is the scene where Mr. McGregor attempts to trap Peter under a garden sieve (34-35). The voice of the verbal narrative is matter of fact, and the use of words cleverly chosen for their inappropriate affect: "Mr. McGregor came up with a sieve, which he intended to pop upon the top of Peter; but Peter wriggled out just in time, leaving his jacket behind him." The words "came up with" are inadequate to express Mr. McGregor's motivation to hunt and trap the plaguey rabbit, whereas "pop upon the top of" is tea-party language, a casual and bland expression that masks and trivializes Mr. McGregor's murderous intention to capture, kill, and eat Peter. The choice of the third verb in the series, "wriggle out," is once again a gentle, restrained term to describe a fight for one's life.

While the narrative voice passes politely and distantly over the scene, the illustration offers a very different interpretation. Although the reader is not directly under the sieve with Peter, watching it descend, the reader's eye is extremely close, and the movement of the sieve is reinforced by the image of the three birds that fly away to left and right. Peter's crouching stance, with forepaws low and head and ears down and thrown back, his eyes blank and all energy centered in the hind legs that propel him forward, transmits the sense of desperate escape, while the very large hands that hold the sieve accentuate the sense of disparate power. At the same time, the phrase "leaving his jacket behind him" takes shape in the picture's image of Peter's nakedness, his transformation back into a simple nameless animal. And the jacket on the ground behind him still snared in the netting communicates his hairs-breadth deliverance.

These two pages not only express very different affective messages but also involve diverse and contradictory attitudes. While the verbal narrative, in its objective way, focalizes first Mr. McGregor and then Peter as it describes their actions, the choice of words for the narrative voice, which reduces the drama and intensity to an everyday occurrence, is clearly that of the powerful class and paternalistic authority of which Mr. McGregor is representative. The major conflict takes place between Mr. McGregor and Peter, between the fixed order of society and the forces that seek to undermine it, between those who have and those who want, between human civilization and animal nature. Mr. McGregor is clear about the rules, crying, "Stop thief!" as he chases the intruder. Rabbits reduce the output of Mr. McGregor's business, availing themselves of food, which is owned by another, and which, although there is plenty, is not for them. The land has been claimed, fenced, and gated, and they must stay outside. Although the forces of nature produce the food, the rabbits may not enter the garden, which belongs to human beings. Entering the garden leads to the loss of the clothes that mitigate the boundary between animals and human beings, and to possible loss of life. Eat and you will be eaten is the warning.

Meanwhile the pictures, which involve the reader in Peter's plight, are operating in a very different realm, one in which the have-nots see no reason why they should not help themselves to nature's bounty, and where gates and fences are boundaries to be challenged. Peter, it is true, does not enter the garden because he is hungry, for his mother feeds him well, but because he will not accept restraints to his freedom. For this he is willing to risk danger, and the loss of the clothes that may make him more human but that hamper his liberty of movement. This restriction is expressed not only in his narrow escape from the sieve but also in the early picture in which Mrs. Rabbit buttons a tight collar around his neck, while telling him, "don't get into mischief" (13). Thus the socio-political message of the verbal text is countered repeatedly by the individualistic stance of the pictures.

A comparable interaction between verbal and pictorial presentation may be found when Peter is first caught in the gooseberry net. "I think he might have got away altogether," says the narrator, using one of the "I"s that make her presence felt, "if he had not unfortunately run into a gooseberry net, and got caught by the large buttons on his jacket" (30). Once again the diction sets the action at a distance: "unfortunately" and "got caught" are unemotional, reserved words that accentuate the observer's remoteness and render the action low in drama and energy. And the tangential comment that follows, "It was a blue jacket with brass buttons, quite new," further detaches the narrator from the scene with its present danger. In contrast, the illustration shows Peter upside down, pinioned into immobility, enmeshed in the netting, with his feet poking through. The reader's viewpoint is right at ground level, the level of Peter's eye, a technique that thrusts the reader directly into the net. And because the netting forms the edge of the narrowly focused scene on all sides, with just a corner free, the sense of entrapment is accentuated.

Potter's balance of text and picture involves a variety of alternative functions, for example, disharmony in focalization between words and picture. The doublespread on pages 40-41 focalizes Mr. McGregor in the verbal text, but Peter in the illustration: "[Mr. McGregor] tried to put his foot upon Peter, who jumped out of a window, upsetting three plants. The window was too small for Mr. McGregor, and he was tired of running after Peter. He went back to his work" (41). The illustration, featuring Peter in mid-jump, once again puts us at Peter's eye-level, while Mr. McGregor's presence is represented by only a hob-nailed boot. But the identification with Peter is less intense than in some of the earlier pictures, for Peter is drawn as a veritable rabbit, with no hint of human posture or movement.

An interesting variant of this technique is found in a later double-spread where the verbal text describes Mr. McGregor's thought process and action: "Mr. McGregor hung up the little jacket and the shoes for a scare-crow to frighten the blackbirds" (52-53). The picture is one of the few that offer a longer perspective, and the angle of view is set quite high, so that the observer looks down on the scene from a raised position. While the words are simply descriptive, the illustration makes a clear comment. First of all, even though Peter himself isn't present, it is Peter's coat and shoes, placed upon a wooden cross, that dominate the picture, while Mr. McGregor is a faint figure in the background. Secondly, Mr. McGregor's action is humorously depicted as completely ineffective, for the robin perches on one of the scarecrow's arms, while three birds, at least two of them crows, stand at the base of the pole, looking inquisitively up. Two more large birds are sketched in a little further back. None is in the least afraid of the scarecrow, nor does Mr. McGregor's presence nearby cause any distress.

One rather different but very interesting technique shows a reversal of the more common picture-text combination in which the illustration carries the drama of the action in contrast to the verbal text's diffident or tangential discourse. In this case the words carry the action and the affect, while the illustration provides the diversion. "Peter was most dreadfully frightened," the text relates. "He rushed all over the garden, for he had forgotten the way back to the gate. He lost one of his shoes among the cabbages, and the other shoe amongst the potatoes" (29). The accompanying illustration focuses not on Peter's plight, his actions, or his feelings, but upon a robin peering curiously at one of his lost shoes. While the verbal text certainly gives the access to the picture, the illustration itself distracts from the action. Placed midway between the illustrations of Peter fleeing Mr. McGregor and Peter caught in the gooseberry net, this detailed, static image has an after-the-fact effect and distances the reader from the story. The little vignette features a small corner of the garden, and the perspective is not as close up nor as low to the ground as so many others. The large, almost square picture has a stillness and self-sufficiency about it, separate from the parallel action of Peter's desperate flight. This particular combination provides an anomaly to the more common pattern we have analyzed, and the verbal focus upon Peter's feelings permits the authorial voice to express in words the identification with Peter that had been repressed by the didactic voice but expressed through the images.

Potter does not always use contradictory effects in her word-picture interaction. The doublespread that features Peter standing by the locked door offers a harmony of the techniques and assumptions that guide the point of view (44-45). The verbal text is once again descriptive in a relatively objective manner, but, unlike the earlier passage cited, it states the facts without flippancy. Here the theme of disempowerment and inability to overcome obstacles is reinforced in both words and pictures: the door "was locked, and there was not room ... to squeeze underneath"; the mouse "had such a large pea in her mouth that she could not answer. She only shook her head at him." The statement "Peter began to cry" is simply a reporting of fact, but the words are true and clear without irony or attitude, and set less distance between Peter's emotions and the reader.

The picture of Peter is a masterpiece. He is without clothes but, unlike his presentation in the earlier unclothed pictures, Peter is not just an animal, for his body, though anatomically accurate, as are all Potter's drawings, is posed in a human stance. He stands upright, one foot resting on the other as he leans against the door, and his left paw rests upon the door above his head, while his right is held against his face. A large tear runs from his eye. At least one critic has likened the illustration to Anna Lea Merritt's Love Locked Out (1889), with which Potter would have been familiar and which represents a spiritual union denied by death.⁷ Whether or not the reader carries this somewhat spiritual reference into the illustration, the sense of identification with Peter is intense and the mood of entrapment and disillusion emphatic in both the picture and in the events described: the locked door, the too narrow space beneath, the only other living creature unable to speak to him. When Peter begins to cry, his human childlikeness speaks strongly to the reader because the illustration and the verbal text work in harmony to present his hopelessness and fearful exhaustion. The earlier vision of the garden as wealth and Peter as invader has given way to the sense of the garden as a place of fear and captivity and of Peter as its prisoner.

This analysis of the ways in which perspective and point of view operate in the interplay of verbal text and illustration reveals Potter's mastery of the picturebook form. Her manipulation of the reader's perception of and sympathy for her protagonist and his challenge of the sociopolitical boundaries she appears to defend is subtle and subversive, for the unmistakable perspective of the illustrations patently and intentionally undermines the studied ambiguous stance of her verbal message.

Peter as Unlikely Hero

Potter's ambivalence, which raised Mackey's question of "just whose side she is on," is not simply a manifestation of Potter's own feelings about individual freedom and her experience of the constraints of the accepted paternalistic Victorian society that many of her works express.⁸ It is also strongly tied to the accepted concept of an appropriate hero, and interrogates my earlier affirmation that "there is little doubt that Peter, who stands for rebellion on all fronts, is the hero of the story."

In considering the significance of Potter's perspective and her foregrounding of her protagonist, I have been repeatedly reminded of another rebellious figure challenging authority and established order, Milton's Lucifer in Paradise Lost. A number of readers, especially those with Romantic tendencies, have seen Lucifer-Satan rather than Christ as the "real" hero of the epic, for Satan displays any number of heroic traits with which readers may sympathize and identify: courage, leadership, intelligence, fortitude and resolve in the face of adversity, and a longing for freedom and self-determination. Thus, like Potter, Milton has provoked similar charges of ambivalence in his relationship to the established order, his choice of hero, and his covert heresies (though in Milton's case these were religious rather than sociopolitical).

While the supporter of Satan points to the heroism of the rebel who defies the power of the established order and sacrifices everything for individual autonomy, a study of the perspectives established by Milton reveals a different picture. Although Paradise Lost is a purely verbal text, Milton's verse is vivid in visual description and in image and, like Potter's work, displays a similarly fluctuating perspective. In Book I, Lucifer-Satan is foregrounded and presented through epic similes as larger than life, as he frees himself from the chains on the burning lake and presides over the construction of a great hall, where in Book II he addresses his followers in stately rhetoric from a lofty throne.

But this up-close viewpoint is juxtaposed to the longer view: first Milton's simile compares the massing hordes of hell to a swarm of bees, and is accompanied by a switch in perspective, in which "they who now seem'd / In bigness to surpass Earth's Giant Sons / Now less than smallest Dwarfs" (I, 777-9). And, shortly thereafter, when Satan's voyage from hell is described, the perspective of the piece is transformed when seen from God's panoramic viewpoint, and Satan is revealed as a small force in the magnitude of the universe, and compared to a vulture, a wolf, and a cormorant. Thereafter, when the reader is brought close to Satan's side, any sense of magnitude is lost, and Satan's manifestations as toad and snake further distance the reader.

In the case of Paradise Lost, the didactic approach of the author is reinforced by the perspective and by the images presented, in complete contrast to the situation in Peter Rabbit. Although faced with a degree of ambiguity in his challenge to "justify the ways of God to man," a highly complex task in view of the conflicting values of the time with regard to freedom and authority, the subtle distinctions of church theology and dangers of heresy, and the conventions of the epic genre, Milton manipulates his readers both rationally and emotionally to the conclusion he determines.

Margery Hourihan, in her work Deconstructing the Hero, adds an interesting dimension to this discussion of unlikely heroes in her analysis of the adventure story and her inclusion of Peter Rabbit as an example. She states that "The Tale of Peter Rabbit recognizes the division in our culture between the domestic sphere and the public world where power is situated, just as it recognizes the perceived division between humans and animals but, unlike most hero tales, it values the private world above the public and denies the imagined boundary between humanity and nature."⁹ While I am in full agreement with her sense that this book undermines some of the dualities upon which the adventure story is set, I believe that Potter goes much further than Hourihan suggests.

In many ways Peter is the exact antithesis of the qualities that Hourihan identifies as necessary for the traditional hero, a difference that allows Potter to subvert rather than endorse the usual pattern of adventure. According to Hourihan's analysis, the traditional hero of the time is a young, white male; he leaves the civilized order of home to venture into the wilderness; he meets difficulties and dangerous opponents; he overcomes them because he is strong, brave, resourceful, rational, and determined to succeed; he achieves his goal; he returns home and is gratefully welcomed and rewarded. Furthermore, if we examine the good/evil dualism pairs that Hourihan selects from Val Plumwood's¹⁰ list--reason/emotion; civilization/wilderness; reason/nature; male/female; order/chaos; mind-soul/body; human/nonhuman and master/slave--Peter embodies few of the positive aspects and most of the negative ones.

Potter is completely breaking the mold of the hero in this story, for Peter is a small, easily frightened, emotionally driven, and certainly not very rational animal. Although he is male--the one boundary Potter was unable to fracture--he is no heroic representative of the "innate superiority of civilized, rational, male order as against wild, emotional, female chaos" (Hourihan, 17). The Tale of Peter Rabbit is thus subversive not only of the period's premises and expectations of what it takes to be a good child--obedient, dutiful, respectful of authority, social mores, and conventions--but of the hero genre itself, together with its implicit values, whereby "the reader is required to admire courage, action, skill and determination, while qualities like creativity, sensitivity and self-questioning have no presence in the hero's world" (Hourihan, 41). Potter's polite, socially correct narrative voice is revealed as a façade, shielding the author from self-revelation.

In her seemingly gentle and her subtle way, Beatrix Potter has, like many other great children's literature authors, laid a depth charge beneath the calm surface of an innocent children's story. Her tale has been providing an explosive force for many generations of children, encouraging them to self-indulgence, disobedience, transgression of social boundaries and ethics, and assertion of their wild, unpredictable nature against the constrictions of civilized living. Potter also implies that this battle will be a constant, cyclical one, for there is no closure to the story, just a temporary hiatus. Mr. McGregor's spoils of victory--Peter's clothes--are hollow, and transient; they do not empower McGregor, as the scarecrow picture reveals, and, as we see in the Benjamin Bunny sequel, Peter has already outgrown them like a snake shedding its skin. The struggle for personal independence will include moments of panic and terror, and real danger. But the subliminal message is that this struggle is what life is all about, and that the price one must pay--a stomachache and no supper--is well worth the exhilaration and self-realization that results from the confrontation.

Notes

1. Margaret Mackey, The Case of Peter Rabbit (New York: Garland, 1998), 5-6.

2. It is interesting that in designing her Peter Rabbit Game, Potter wrote the rules so that "the chances are strongly in favour of Peter." Cited in Judy Taylor's That Naughty Rabbit (London: Frederick Warne, 1987), 61.

3. Beatrix Potter, The Journal of Beatrix Potter, transcribed by Leslie Linder (London: Frederick Warne, 1966), 172-76. There are a number of other instances of similar sentiments expressed.

4. Maria Nikolajeva and Carole Scott's How Picturebooks Work (New York: Garland, 2001) delves into these matters in detail.

5. All page references are made to the original and authorized Warne edition of Beatrix Potter's The Tale of Peter Rabbit, this impression, 1993.

6. Mackey suggests that we take the rough ovals as frames and that frame-breaking occurs when an element of the picture (handle, ears, tail) protrudes beyond the background wash (9).

7. Anne Stevenson Hobbs, Beatrix Potter's Art (New York: Viking Penguin Inc., 1989), 22-23.

8. For further discussion of this conflict please see my article, "Clothed in Nature or Nature Clothed," Children's Literature 22 (New Haven & London: Yale University Press, 1994), 70-89.

9. Margery Hourihan, Deconstructing the Hero (London and New York: Routledge, 1997), 218.

10. Val Plumwood, Feminism and the Mastery of Nature (London and New York: Routledge, 1993).

Bibliography

Hobbs, Anne Stevenson. Beatrix Potter's Art. New York: Viking Penguin, Inc., 1989.

Hourihan, Margery. Deconstructing the Hero. London and New York: Routledge, 1997.

Mackey, Margaret. The Case of Peter Rabbit: Changing Conditions of Literature for Children. New York: Garland Press, 1998.

Nikolajeva, Maria, and Carole Scott. How Picturebooks Work. New York: Garland Press, 2001.

Plumwood, Val. Feminism and the Mastery of Nature. London and New York: Routledge, 1993.

Potter, Beatrix. The Journal of Beatrix Potter, transcribed by Leslie Linder. London: F. Warne & Co., 1966.

------. The Tale of Peter Rabbit. London: F. Warne & Co., 1993.

Scott, Carole. "Clothed in Nature or Nature Clothed." Children's Literature 22 (1994): 70-89.

Taylor, Judy. That Naughty Rabbit: Beatrix Potter and Peter Rabbit. London: F. Warne, 1987.

Source Citation   (MLA 7^th Edition)

Scott, Carole. "An Unusual Hero: Perspective and Point of View in The Tale of Peter Rabbit." Beatrix Potter's Peter Rabbit: A Children's Classic at 100. Ed. Margaret Mackey. Lanham, Md.: The Children's Literature Association and The Scarecrow Press, Inc., 2002. 19-30. Rpt. in Children's Literature Review. Ed. Jelena Krstovic. Vol. 165. Detroit: Gale, 2011. Literature Resource Center. Web. 16 Oct. 2013.

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