by Nadia Cohen
Beatrix wrote to Harold saying she would call at the office for a meeting, but warned him that she would not be able to mention the engagement in case they were overheard by anyone: ‘You will not think me very cross if I say I would rather not talk much yet about that business?’, she wrote to her future brother-in-law, ‘Though I am very glad you have been told.’
She did, however, confide to one of her cousins in Gloucestershire, saying how irrational her parents were being in their dislike of Norman: ‘Publishing books is as clean a trade as spinning cotton.’
Beatrix hated having to defy her parents, but as the weeks wore on she decided that even if there was not to be a public announcement of the engagement she wanted to enjoy the happiest time of her life, and so she began to openly wear her engagement ring. This shocking act of rebellion was the first time Beatrix had ever dared to stand firm against her parents’ decision, and it made her sad to have to do so.
In her mind however, she was engaged, and meanwhile at Norman’s home in Bedford Square his family’s reaction could not have been more different. There the news was accepted instantly, and greeted with excitement and raucous celebrations. Norman’s mother was deeply sympathetic when she heard about Beatrix’s parents’ stiff opposition to the marriage, while his nieces started calling her Auntie Bee and showed her what a happy family could look like. Despite the upheaval and tension at her home, the Warnes made sure it was a joyous time for Beatrix and Norman. But their happiness was not to last. Norman, who had often been prone to bouts of poor health, fell ill suddenly, but refused to consult a doctor despite his fiancé begging him to do so.
Not realising how seriously ill her fiancé was, Beatrix left for a holiday with her parents to North Wales in a bid to patch up their rocky relationship. On 24 August she sent him what she later described as: ‘A silly letter all about my rabbits, and the walking stick that I was going to get for him to thrash his wife with’, but he would never read it.
By the time Norman was examined properly by a doctor, tests revealed that he was suffering from leukemia and it was by then at such an advanced stage that nothing could be done to save him.
The next morning Beatrix received a telegram telling her that Norman was gravely ill, and she immediately started making arrangements to return to London to see him. Tragically, he died of leukaemia that afternoon, hours before she could reach him. He was just thirty-seven.
Later she wrote in her diary: ‘I am quite glad now I was not in time, I should only have cried and upset him, and I am sure he would have sent for me if he had wanted me.’
The entry is typically understated, but Beatrix was heartbroken. She had lost Norman and her dreams of motherhood died with him. She was thirty-nine by then and had lost all hope she had of leaving her parents to start a family of her own. ‘It was really hard on her,’ explained Sara Glenn. ‘She was absolutely in pieces. Her whole world was about to fall apart.’
Although Beatrix was bereft, she faced a wall of silence as hardly anybody knew she even had a fiancé, and her parents adamantly refused to discuss the matter at home. The Warne family invited her to stay at No. 8 Bedford Square for a few weeks after the funeral, as she could not bear the atmosphere at home. Still wearing Norman’s engagement ring, and nursing a few of his possessions, including an umbrella that she would keep until her death, she retreated briefly from her parents’ scrutiny.
She felt responsible for the upkeep of Norman’s grave at Highgate cemetery, and she wrote to Mary, the wife of Norman’s brother Fruing, explaining:
Millie and I went up to Highgate yesterday, the stone is put back quite neatly again; it seems to want something planting at the back, there is much untidy trampled earth where the hawthorn was cut down. I don’t believe grass will ever grow well under the fir tree. I was wondering whether Japanese anemones would grow where it is shaded, Millie says you have them in your garden and know their habits.
Banned from grieving at home, Beatrix soon found that the only outlet she had was her frequent correspondence with Norman’s supportive family, particularly his sister Millie who had become a dear friend and their closeness, which only intensified following Norman’s sudden death, lasted for the rest of their lives.
A few days after the funeral Beatrix received a letter which Norman had sent her before he died, and she wrote to Millie saying: ‘He fulfilled a useful happy life. I must try to make a fresh beginning next year. Do you remember Miss Austin’s (sic) Persuasion with all the scenes and streets in Bath? It was always my favourite and I read the end part of it again, on the 26th the day after I got Norman’s letter, I thought my story had come right with patience and waiting like Anne Elliott’s did.’
Like Jane Austen’s fictional character Anne Elliot, Beatrix also longed for a man she had been told was beneath her. But whereas Anne eventually married Captain Wentworth in the novel Persuasion, Beatrix was to remain separated from her love forever.
Over the following months as her grief did not fade, but only seemed to grow more acute, Beatrix started to formulate a secret plan for making a fresh start by taking refuge in the two things she loved the most – her work and the rugged hills of the Lake District.
Chapter Ten
Mourning the loss of a life that would now never happen, her longed-for marriage and the only future she could envision for herself, Beatrix craved space and solitude. She had to come to terms with never being Norman’s wife, and the heart-breaking realisation that she would never become a mother.
National Trust Archivist Liz Hunter McFarlane explained: ‘When her fiancé died suddenly, leaving Beatrix broken hearted, her need to escape was even greater than ever. She wanted a bolthole where she could hide away and grieve for him in private.’
In the aftermath of Norman’s sudden death, Beatrix found that his family were far kinder and more sympathetic to her feelings than her own, and she was so grateful for their help that she vowed to keep working for Warnes, even though her fiancé was no longer in charge of her affairs. Their successful business partnership remained intact for the rest of Beatrix’s life, just as she would always continue to exchange long and friendly letters with Millie.
Her deep sense of loss, and a need to flee from Bolton Gardens, was matched only by her desperate desire to go on writing. ‘I do so hate finishing books, I would like to go on with them for years,’ she said.
During the Potters’ last family holiday in the Lake District, Beatrix had discreetly taken the bold step of buying a small farm she had noticed was on the market. Hill Top Farm was nestled high in the hills above Coniston in the idyllic village of Near Sawrey, and Beatrix fell in love the moment she laid eyes on the picture-perfect cottage. She decided on the spot that it would make a perfect holiday home for her and Norman.
It was almost unheard of for unmarried women to buy property without the help of their fathers at that time, but Beatrix was emerging as something of a feminist many years ahead of the time. If men were allowed do it, she reasoned, then why couldn’t she? She had plenty of money and could easily afford it, so she swiftly batted away all objections that threatened to stand in her way. In her twenties and thirties Beatrix had always needed to rely on her father for handouts, which she grew to resent. Rupert had once given her shares in the North Pacific Railway, and so she sold them to help cover the cost of Hill Top Farm. As well as her earnings from the books, she had also inherited some money from an aunt and investing in this idyllic property struck her as a very wise thing to do.
Since Beatrix had planned to make the house into a cosy love nest for her and Norman – a secluded refuge for the newlywed couple to escape the hustle and bustle of their busy working lives in London – when she wanted space to grieve in private, she could think of no better place to hide.
‘It’s almost as if she’d never really believed that, for her, a happy ending was a possibility,’ said National Trust historian Sarah Gristwood. ‘I think her work, and the prospect of a new life in Near Sawrey, must have save
d her.’
As the Potters had become regular visitors to the area, renting various country houses for their family holidays each summer, Beatrix had come to know it well over the years, and the vast open spaces between Coniston Water and Lake Windermere already had a special place in her heart. She had fallen in love with the remote village of Sawrey when the Potters had first visited in 1896, and she had met a number of local children. When they returned just before Norman died and she handed around signed copies of her first few books, Beatrix quizzed her young friends about any properties which they might have heard could be coming up for sale in the near future. After asking around she soon learnt that the lush green pastures surrounding the quaint village were particularly fertile and excellent for farming.
Initially Beatrix had her eye on a rather grand property called Ees-Wyke, which she and her parents had rented the first time they discovered the region, but when she heard that Hill Top Farm was on the market, the original house was quickly forgotten. Beatrix may not have been well versed in financial matters or mortgages – and she had certainly never dealt with such a vast sum of money before – but she was astute enough to know she needed to act quickly before somebody else snapped up such a desirable place. Describing the farm following her first viewing, Beatrix wrote: ‘I was very sorry to come away, in spite of the broken weather. It is as nearly perfect a little place as I ever lived in, and such nice old-fashioned people in the village.’
She did not want to leave, so stayed in the village sketching some of the more striking views including the Tower Bank Arms pub, which featured in The Tale of Jemima Puddle Duck, and of course the simple slate-roofed farmhouse itself, which can be seen in both The Tale of Tom Kitten and Pigling Bland.
The royalties from the sales of her first few affordable and adorable books had been pouring in and had given Beatrix an independent income, which would have allowed her to do almost anything. She could spend the money however she chose, but she had a plan. Following Norman’s death, London made Beatrix feel more claustrophobic than ever and she did not think she could ever live there again. All she wanted now was to spend the rest of her life in the Lake District, buying up a patchwork of local farms and ensuring that traditional farming methods were used. This dream house was to be the first of many, and her rapidly expanding portfolio of properties would eventually grow to over four thousand acres. Beatrix was determined to do whatever it took to protect the land from developers and to preserve the memories of her childhood.
‘There’s nothing like open air for soothing present anxiety and memories of past sadness,’ she later wrote.
As a financial investment Hill Top Farm was clearly a very safe bet, but its emotional significance to Beatrix could not be underestimated either. It was there that she mended her broken heart and started to believe that she could start a completely new life, just for herself. Hill Top would become a symbol of her newfound freedom, far from the smothering clutches of her parents and the memories of her short courtship with Norman.
In her new kitchen garden at Hill Top, which sloped away from the front door of the farmhouse, Beatrix grew bright wild flowers with flowering and fruiting shrubs, and plenty of fresh vegetables. The well-kept garden was her pride and joy, and often appeared in her work. In The Tale Of Tom Kitten, Beatrix shared much of the narrow front garden, while The Tale Of Jemima Puddle-Duck had a beautiful drawing of her walled vegetable garden. She was so devoted to the demands of the garden in the early days that she even started to neglect her fiction writing. In 1910 she wrote to Norman’s sister Millie: ‘I am now taking a few days’ rest, ie gardening violently, when I ought to be sketching pigs.’
The house, with its cold flagstone floors and rickety staircase may have been unremarkable for the area, but it all felt wonderfully exotic to Beatrix. She was utterly enchanted by the herbs and shrubs flowers, which grew along the paths which snaked from the house to the garden. There was not a huge amount of land, but enough to keep a few cows, sheep, pigs and chickens; and she could not wait to start using the small dairy.
Hill Top Farm was the first thing Beatrix had ever bought for herself, and she was especially proud of the fact that she had not really stopped to discuss the matter with her parents, since she already knew what their reaction would be. Safe in the knowledge that they would strongly disapprove of her doing something so outrageously independent, she decided against having to listen to their views on the matter.
When they realised that their unmarried daughter was making such a scandalous escape, and there was precious little they could do to stop her, Rupert and Helen were furious. Beatrix was blatantly and emphatically rejecting not only the home they had provided, but also their way of life and everything they stood for. Although the way Beatrix saw it, she was simply investing her own money, which she had earned through her own talent and hard work, and she was hardly a child anymore. She was a middle-aged woman who was at long last asserting her independence.
Her brother Bertram was fully on her side and did all he could to encourage Beatrix’s overdue bid for freedom, trying his best to change their parents unflinching point of view. Bertram could see how unhappy and lonely his sister was in London and urged her to follow him into the farming business. Bertram was already running a successful working farm in the Scottish borders, although Beatrix insisted she had no intention of becoming a full-time farmer like him, as she still saw it as more of a hobby.
As she explained in the diary which she had been keeping a closely guarded secret since her teens, but still revisited on important or significant occasions: ‘My brother and I were born in London but our descent, our interest and our joy were in the north country.’
Whether buying the farm was a new hobby, a reaction to a broken heart or merely a fanciful whim, Beatrix could no longer ignore the deep desire she felt to shake off the confines of city life, and to properly live freely among nature. As soon as she completed her purchase of Hill Top Farm her passion for the area intensified still further. She was equally charmed by the straightforward plain-speaking attitudes of the local Lancastrian people who welcomed her warmly from the start. The farmhouse already felt more like home to her than the pristine Kensington mansion where she had spent the best part of the past forty years ever had. But she knew she could not do it all herself, and in a bid to prove that she was not merely playing at farming, one of the first tasks Beatrix tackled was employing an experienced farmer to manage the land. The obvious choice for the role was John Canon, who was already living as a tenant in an annexe to the main property with his wife and two children when Beatrix bought it. Beatrix had initially given the family notice to leave when she intended to spend weekends and holidays there with Norman, but as soon as she met Canon she changed her mind. Although she did not have a wide circle of friends, and had certainly met very few men in her sheltered life, Beatrix was a shrewd judge of character and felt sure that he would help her make a success of the farm.
She realised that Canon had been struggling to survive on the pittance he had been earning before, so Beatrix asked if she could buy all his stock, straw, feed, machinery and tools. When he asked for a fair price, despite her obvious lack of technical knowledge, she knew he was an honest man and hired him straight away to initiate her into her new rural pursuits. One thing was clear: she had an awful lot to learn.
As Beatrix saw it, the Canons had been ensconced at Hill Top long before she had taken over; she took an immediate liking to the whole family and felt confident that they would be very respectful of the privacy she now craved. Their happy working relationship lasted successfully for the next twelve years. Beatrix had a new wing built for them and even had it written into her will that there would always be a sitting tenant at the farm, regardless of its future ownership after she died. Beatrix also adopted the farm cat, which she quickly renamed with typical whimsy as Tabitha Twitchit.
For Beatrix, still emotionally vulnerable and physically weakened from the stress caused by enraging her
parents, the first winter she faced in the north was hard on her. But as spring began to awaken so too did Beatrix. Over time her grief gradually subsided and Beatrix started to feel strong enough to tackle the various alterations and improvements she had intended for her new house, including a modernised dairy and a light and sunny room where she could write. She had the walls of her upstairs study panelled with wood, hung up Bertram’s paintings and called it The Library. The farm needed a great deal of work done to it, and Beatrix was intrigued to see if she could tackle some of the jobs herself. To her great surprise, she found immense satisfaction in the physical exertion of manual work, and when she needed to rest she was equally satisfied by simply admiring the sheer beauty of the hills.
Of course she needed to hire labourers too, and while most of her new neighbours were welcoming and happy to teach her new skills, inevitably some workers and tradesmen were not particularly comfortable taking orders from a female boss – especially one who had come up from London, and probably would not be hanging around long anyway. To Beatrix, the fact that she was female should have been immaterial, and she was determined to make the farm as successful as she possibly could.
The farm was her priority, and the new assertive Beatrix was not a woman to be trifled with. She certainly had her critics; many people thought the land should be rightfully owned by locals, and that outsiders buying it were taking it out of their hands. Some felt Beatrix was an odd and eccentric character, and disagreed with her methods of working. Very few people realised how rich and famous she actually was, but Beatrix did not appear to care what people thought of her, and it certainly never occurred to her to stop doing what she had put her mind to. She carried on regardless. She was utterly determined that what she was doing was the right path to take, even if very few of her neighbours shared her confidence initially, and in that regard she was many years ahead of her time.