The Real Beatrix Potter

by Nadia Cohen

  Writing about the nature of her work twenty years later, author Graham Greene suggested that Beatrix had taken real pleasure in the characters’ premeditated nastiness. He asked whether she had ‘Passed through an emotional ordeal which changed the character of her genius… with the publication of Mr Tod in 1912, Miss Potter’s pessimism reached its climax.’

  When Beatrix heard that some readers were apparently troubled by the antics of this sly and brutal fox, she wrote in self-defence: ‘Of course there is a question of the sentimental dislike of traps. Still I don’t think this story is extra harassing.’ In 1919 she attempted to revive the character once more in a new story, but Warnes asked her to write instead about pigeons, which she dismissed as ‘namby-pamby’. Beatrix told them furiously that although she would try and do one or two more stories for old times’ sake, she would: ‘Not be able to continue these damned little books when I am dead and buried.’

  It was always important to Beatrix that her animals behaved just as animals would in their natural habitat, even if she imbued them with human characteristics. She disapproved of Kenneth Graham’s children’s story The Wind In The Willows because she felt that the idea of a toad combing his hair was ridiculous, and, she wrote: ‘A mistake to fly in the face of nature.’ She argued her line that yes, her rabbit was wearing a jacket, but he was anatomically correct, and aside from wearing a jacket, he behaved like a rabbit actually would.

  In The Tale of Tom Kitten, Tom and his sisters were told by their mother to ‘walk on their hind legs’ while wearing their best clothes to appear more human-like, and therefore respectable and rational. Within minutes, though, they were naked and fighting on the ground while thieving ducks made off with their clothes.

  Unlike virtually every other classic children’s author, Beatrix did not tend to offer much in the way of happy endings. Although her heroes and heroines usually just about managed to escape with their lives, they mostly finished the story having lost something of value, and they rarely appeared to have learnt their lesson on the way. Squirrel Nutkin was obliged to leave his tail behind on Owl Island as punishment for his misdemeanors, and it is implied that Tom Kitten, Jemima Puddle-Duck and all their furry, feathered friends would almost certainly go on to repeat their dangerous adventures tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that.

  It has also since been suggested that Beatrix was fascinated by Charles Darwin’s controversial ‘survival of the fittest’ scientific theories about nature being a place of constant, violent competition. Beatrix privately agreed that beneath our veneer of civilization, human beings were basically nothing but beasts too. Her parents, with their old-fashioned views, would have been horrified by her beliefs in the theory of evolution, which flouted everything they held dear.

  Many years later the strident feminist Germaine Greer wrote an impassioned objection to the way Beatrix encouraged young girls to fall into traditional gender stereotypes:

  It is time for some assessment of what growing up with Peter Rabbit and Jemima Puddle-Duck does to people. The Potter oeuvre has two tightly interwoven strands: one is the meticulous observation of small animals; the other is the inculcation of female domesticity. The connection is anything but fortuitous. The taming of women to fulfil their domestic roles is in its way as odd and awkward as the clapping of a hedgehog into a mobcap and apron.

  Potter fits into a tradition of confederacy between women and animals, in which women position themselves as if they were lower down the food chain than men, to be identified with prey rather than predator, with the sheep rather than the shepherd.

  Witches, the most persecuted of women, were always accused of having animal confederates, and even of turning into animals on occasion. The evidence from witch trials seems to bear out the impression that the accused women did in fact make common cause with the hares and toads and other despised animals with which they hung out.

  Although she could hardly advertise the fact in her children’s books, Beatrix Potter was a genuine naturalist, for whom accurate observation was a core value. Those who see her as an anthropomorphiser in the style of the pet trade are doing her an injustice. Throughout her work for children there is an implicit recognition of the ineluctability of the food chain, which her small readers unconsciously absorb, along with a subliminal awareness of the intricacy of the real lives of even the smallest wild creatures.

  Beatrix never felt the need to talk down to children or to shy away from random cruelties for their protection. Some critics maintain that she felt it was important to show children what it felt like to be powerless and afraid in order to teach them the value of moral strength and fortitude.

  She had her critics, but by 1913 Beatrix had written and illustrated eighteen tales, and had become a publishing sensation; she also had a very healthy looking bank account. But she had never been interested in courting fame or the trappings of wealth, preferring to live quite frugally. She did not want to travel or fritter her earnings on the latest luxuries or extravagant homes. All Beatrix wanted to use her mounting royalty payments for was to add to her agricultural empire, which was gradually sprawling its way across the Lake District.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Beatrix was far more interested in getting to grips with her new businesses than she ever had been in children’s fiction. Long hours in the fields could be rough and physically demanding, the work left her exhausted and weather beaten but she was relishing learning all kinds of new skills, and there was no question of abandoning her land. Beatrix was more certain than ever that the farm was where she was needed, and where her future lay. Spending any more time than was strictly necessary in London felt like a pointless waste as far as she was concerned. She felt that nothing was tying her to the capital anymore, but her parents begged to differ. They would remind her that Kensington was still officially her home. It was not easy but Beatrix knew she would have to find a way of plucking up the courage to explain to the Potters that she was putting down more and more roots in the north and soon she would cut all ties with Bolton Gardens forever.

  The previous year she had bought a second property in the Lake District, Castle Farm, a small white-washed cottage surrounded by lush sloping meadows, which overlooked Hill Top from the other side of the main road through Sawrey. In fact the two properties were so close that they were virtually adjoining, and Castle Farm became an extension of her home.

  Beatrix had been helped with the purchase by a very amiable local solicitor called William Heelis, a quiet, tall, unmarried man who was around Beatrix’s age. The pair found they had a great deal in common, and having hit it off from the start, she became a regular client of his long-established family firm, W. Heelis & Son. From then on whenever Beatrix required legal advice, she would deal directly with William. The company’s main offices were in Ambleside but William’s smaller office in Hawkshead was closer and more convenient for Beatrix to visit any time she required the benefit of William’s kind and valuable advice on contracts, mortgages and property transfers. Having been born and educated locally in Appleby, William shared Beatrix’s fondness for the surrounding villages and was only too delighted to assist her in complicated planning matters such as laying a fresh water supply to her remote house.

  William was always polite and helpful to Beatrix, and surprisingly eager to make frequent personal visits to the properties she wanted to discuss. It was not long before their working relationship had developed into a friendship and then a quietly contented romantic attachment. Beatrix was delighted with this turn of events. William was perfect for her and she felt invigorated – she claimed it was the fresh air in the countryside that was helping with her health and making her feel more robust than ever, but her new romance certainly seemed to put a spring in her step.

  Despite her sturdier countenance, when particularly harsh weather hit the Lakes that winter Beatrix was floored by a nasty bout of flu. Since it would have been quite scandalous for William to stay at Hill Top to take care of her, she had no
choice but to return once again to her parents’ house in London to recuperate. It was the last place she wanted to be.

  She was 47 years old, yet here was a stark reminder of her bleak and friendless childhood isolation, although this time her lonely stay in the gloom of Bolton Gardens was at least cheered by the frequent arrival of letters from William as he kept her up to date on various aspects of life back in Sawrey. The illness lingered and left Beatrix too weak to travel back for some weeks, but it was not just the physical pain that was causing her misery. Beatrix had been keeping a secret from her parents, fearing their reaction. William had in fact proposed to her shortly before she left for London, and Beatrix felt sick with dread at the thought of the arguments that would certainly ensue as soon as she confessed the truth. She felt sure that Rupert and Helen would not approve of William any more than they had approved of Norman. But she longed to find the happiness she had shared so fleetingly with Norman, and knew the only way to make it happen would be to defy her parents’ wishes once again.

  Eventually Beatrix summoned the strength to broach the subject of her new fiancé, and of course Rupert and Helen reacted precisely as Beatrix had feared they would. They declared a humble country solicitor was far below their social standing, and linking their two families together through marriage was absolutely out of the question. They dismissed her protests and banished her back upstairs to the nursery, like a naughty child. Beatrix was expressly forbidden from accepting William’s offer of marriage, with the added instruction that she would soon see sense and abandon her life in the Lake District entirely.

  Feeling tired and feeble, Beatrix could not face repeating the same fight they had over Norman years earlier, and was almost considering turning down William’s marriage proposal when Bertram made an unexpected visit to see his parents. Beatrix’s younger brother almost never left the isolation of his remote farm in Scotland if he could help it, but his timing could not have been better. Not only did he openly support Beatrix’s plans, but he astounded them all by announcing that he had already got married without his parents’ permission and was living with a shopkeeper’s daughter as his wife, following their secret wedding.

  Mr and Mrs Potter were devastated at this unexpected turn of events, which left Beatrix astounded too, but while Bertram’s shocking revelations had helped her own cause a little, she nonetheless returned to Sawrey after six weeks in the spring of 1913 without her parents’ blessing to marry. Beatrix was still suffering from a shortness of breath when she arrived back at Hill Top but there was no question of her staying in London any longer than strictly necessary. She was missing William, and could not be bothered to battle with her parents anymore.

  She had already lined up a viewing of another farm, which she wanted to buy following a large windfall of royalties. She left London with her furious parents threatening to follow Beatrix north within weeks to spend Easter in Windermere while Bolton Gardens was given its annual spring clean by the servants. In a letter to Harold Warne she explained that the last trip down to London and back had left her exhausted: ‘I seem to get on very slowly,’ she wrote.

  I am decidedly stronger and look perfectly well; but I was completely stopped by a short hill on trying to walk to the next village this afternoon; I believe persevering slow exercise is the best cure. I am quite sure I am best out of London, and as my parents have come to a hotel for a holiday (and spring cleaning) I hope they will be satisfied for me to stay here a little longer.

  However, by the summer the Potters had agreed to meet William and found him not to be anything like the dangerous threat they had feared. With the passing of time they seemed to calm down, especially after Beatrix assured them that a wedding was still a long way off.

  The Potters were not prepared to make it explicitly clear that William would be welcomed into their family, but Beatrix felt confident enough to put him out of his misery and formally accept his marriage proposal, and wrote to her cousin Caroline Clark to break the happy news that she was once again engaged. In a further letter to her friend Fanny Cooper she explained her attraction to William: ‘He is 42 very quiet – dreadfully shy, but I’m sure he will be more comfortable married – I have known him for six years; he is in every way satisfactory, well known in the district and respected.’

  Curator of the Warnes archives Sara Glenn said that Beatrix did not accept William’s proposal lightly: ‘I get the impression that Beatrix’s marriage to William was a pragmatic decision,’ she said. ‘They enjoyed each other’s company, but it was a relationship based largely on business. You can imagine them sitting across the table from each other, with their toasted teacakes and cups of tea, going, “What do you think about this farm?” But Beatrix was still feeling awkward about having another relationship after all this time.’

  Telling Norman’s family was not such an easy task for Beatrix who was uncertain about how they would take hearing that she had moved on to another fiancé. She wrote to his younger sister Millie first saying:

  I have felt very uncomfortable and guilty when with you for some time – especially when you asked about Sawrey. You would be only human if you felt a little hurt! Norman was a saint, if ever a man was good. I do not believe he would object, especially as it was my illness and the miserable feeling of loneliness that decided me at last.

  I certainly am not doing it from thoughtless light-heartedness as I am in very poor spirits about the future. We are very much attached and I have every confidence in W.H. but I think it can only mean waiting and shall never be surprised if it were for the time broken off.

  Beatrix need not have worried about the Warnes’ reaction. Many years had passed since Norman’s death and his entire family gave Beatrix their blessing on hearing of her happiness. Even her parents relented – on the condition that the wedding was held at their local church in London. On 14 October 1913 at St Mary Abbot’s in Kensington, Beatrix Potter was finally granted her wish and became Mrs Heelis. The wedding was a low-key affair since neither Beatrix nor William had many friends, but somehow it met with her parents’ approval – at least Helen could show her society ladies that she had managed to get her spinster daughter respectably married off at last.

  Beatrix would never forget about Norman. She wore his plain gold engagement ring next to her wedding band for the rest of her life. When she went back to sort through her possessions at Bolton Gardens one last time, she found letters from Norman that were ‘so upsetting’ she could not read them. ‘There are things I scarcely know what to do with – like his pipe,’ she wrote to Millie. ‘I scarcely ought to be keeping them.’ Of course, she treasured them all.

  Although Beatrix had only been engaged to Norman for just a month, his family had shown her more warmth and kindness than her own ever had, which was something she never forgot, and William always encouraged her to maintain her close connection with the Warnes for the rest of her life. ‘It’s a really sad story,’ added Glenn. ‘Reading Beatrix’s letters, I was surprised to find that her love for Norman never died. We think of Beatrix Potter as a strong, private woman, but these letters show her intense loneliness.’

  Following the wedding the newlyweds escaped from London and raced back to Sawrey as soon as they possibly could. Neither of them had any interest in frittering their money away on expensive foreign holidays and going abroad had never interested Beatrix; instead they spent their honeymoon in a rented house close to Castle Farm, so they could oversee the renovations being done at the cottage in preparation for them to move in together as a married couple. They had decided before the wedding that Hill Top was far too small for both of them, and Beatrix did not want to make any more alterations as she thought it was perfect just as it was, so she kept it intact as a studio for her writing and drawing, just a short walk away across the fields. Beatrix also felt it would have been disloyal to Norman to live at Hill Top with William, as they had originally planned to live there together.

  Mr and Mrs Heelis were by all accounts a humble couple wh
o had no airs and graces; they were content to live a modest and unpretentious life. It was too late for them to consider starting a family, and that suited them both fine. For Beatrix, all the heartbreak and disappointment she had endured up to this point was finally behind her; she had long ago laid to rest any dreams she may have had of becoming a mother.

  With no expectation of children, she could fully focus her mind on the huge demands of the farms. Now she felt, more than ever, that she had a real purpose in the community, and she was content to tackle her new role of wife with a renewed enthusiasm for the domestic chores she had never bothered with before. She sent Millie Warne a slice of their wedding cake, with a note saying: ‘I am very happy, and in every way satisfied with Willie. It is best now not to look back.’

  But her wedded bliss was to be short lived, as just two weeks later Beatrix was summoned back to London by her frantic mother who demanded her daughter come and help her settle in a new parlour maid. Perhaps Helen realized she had finally lost her control over her daughter, but Beatrix did as she was told and sent another letter to Millie, this time from Bolton Gardens: ‘I feel very dumpy without my husband; it was hard luck to have to leave, after only a fortnight. He is coming up for me on Saturday. Now if you want to get me a nice useful present that I shall always use and remember you by – get me Mrs Beeton’s Cookery; please, and write my name in it!’