The Real Beatrix Potter

by Nadia Cohen

  Scores of letters flew between Fawe Park and Bedford Square as Beatrix and Norman shared every concern about the progress of the stories, the rhythm of the rhymes, any problems or triumphs concerning her drawings and of course scores of amusing anecdotes about her pets.

  Beatrix felt more and more comfortable sharing intimate details of her life with Norman, things she had never dared tell anyone before. If she visited the V&A Museum in South Kensington, she would tell him all about the trip afterwards, and when The Tailor of Gloucester received a glowing review in The Tailor & Cutter newspaper she could not wait to share her excitement with Norman. They both found it particularly amusing because that was the newspaper that the mouse had been reading in one of her illustrations.

  Beatrix hugely valued Norman’s professional advice when it came to the books, and he encouraged her to start work on The Tale of Two Bad Mice, and made sure he was closely involved as it developed. The story had been partially his idea after Beatrix had told him about two mice caught in a trap in the kitchen at Harescombe Grange during her trip to Gloucester earlier that year. Beatrix had rescued the mice from the cage and given them names, Tom Thumb and Hunca Munca, and she grew so attached to her newly tamed pets during her stay that she ended up bringing them home to London with her.

  Tom Thumb soon escaped, but Beatrix spent many hours studying and drawing Hunca Munca, the female mouse, who she told Norman had all the characteristics of a traditional housewife.

  Norman shared Beatrix’s grief when Hunca Munca met a tragic demise after tumbling from a chandelier. Beatrix’s little pet mouse died in her hands ten minutes after the fall, and she was wracked with guilt for having let her out to play in the first place. She was equally bereft when Mrs Tiggy-Winkle died soon after. Beatrix had to take the heart-breaking decision of putting the animal down when she became very ill, as she explained in a heart-wrenching letter to Norman’s sister Millie:

  I am sorry to say I am upset about poor Tiggy. She hasn’t seemed well in the last fortnight, and has begun to be sick, she is so thin. I am afraid that the long course of unnatural diet and indoor life is beginning to tell on her. It is a wonder she has lasted so long. One gets very fond of a little animal. I hope she will either get well or go quickly.

  After Beatrix had ended her life with chloroform, Mrs Tiggy-Winkle was buried in the back garden.

  Beatrix and Norman had very similar imaginations and as they planned out the story of The Tale of Two Bad Mice between them, he wondered if perhaps the fictional mouse would like to live in the intricate dolls house that he was busily constructing for his niece Winifred. Norman cheerfully tasked himself with hunting down the very specific dolls that Beatrix wanted as her models for the staff of the doll’s house, as well as the toy food she needed to draw.

  Taking his role as prop manager seriously meant that Beatrix was soon receiving packages from toy shops across London as Norman scoured the city for whatever she needed. After Norman sent her a parcel from the famous West End department store Hamley’s, she wrote: ‘The things will do beautifully. I am getting almost more treasures than I can squeeze into one small book.’

  Thanks to their successful working partnership, royalty cheques were thudding on to the Potter’s doormat with increasing regularity. Beatrix had to admit that for the first time in her life she had a real job, and was earning a decent amount of money which was all her own. It dawned on her that it could finally buy her independence away from her parents.

  Money had never really been her goal, but the new power that came with it made Beatrix see that she could use it to get what she had wanted for so long: a real purpose for herself.

  She was inundated with goals and objectives, she had deadlines to meet, and to her delight she really was busy. For so many years Beatrix had struggled to fill the empty hours, but suddenly time seemed to fly by as she had a great deal to do, and it all brought her enormous satisfaction. She prayed that she would be allowed to carry on, without her parents interfering or even forbidding her from publishing more stories.

  Her other concern was that Warnes might suddenly go cold on her and refuse to publish anything else she wrote in future. She knew she had to keep their attention, and so before anyone had a chance to object, Beatrix suggested several more ideas for future stories in the hope that she could continue working without interruption. ‘I had been a little hoping that something might be said about another book, but I did not know that I was the right person to make the suggestion!’ she wrote hesitantly to Norman.

  I could send you a list to consider; there are plenty in a vague state of existence, and one written out in a small copybook which I will get back from the children and send to you to read.

  I had better try to sketch this summer, as the stock of ideas for backgrounds is rather used up. I would very much like to do another next winter.

  Just as Beatrix was starting to see a glimmer of hope for her future and a way of escaping her stifling existence at Bolton Gardens, her parents predictably began to raise objections. She might have known their turning a blind eye to her activities was too good to be true, and their leniency would never last. Rupert and Helen had indulged their daughter’s little hobby at first, but now that it appeared to be getting serious they began to fear that they might lose her to powerful outside influences. At the same time that Beatrix realised what her money could buy, her parents also seemed to work out that if their daughter had independent means then she could soon move out of their home, which would be most inconvenient – especially for Helen who relied on Beatrix heavily to help with the running of the household.

  When their daughter pointed out the obvious happiness the books brought her and tens of thousands of children, Mr and Mrs Potter took a different tack. They claimed that she was risking her health by spending far too much time working on her books, sometimes late into the night, and that she might be straining her eyes. They also voiced their disapproval of her visiting the publisher’s office on the other side of London. To their mind it was highly inappropriate and possibly even scandalous for an unmarried woman to be a frequent visitor to offices full of unknown, and almost certainly unsuitable, men.

  Beatrix was of course furious at their flimsy objections and did her best to argue her cause, but in a bid to keep the peace she cancelled a series of important meetings to discuss the new books she had planned. By this point Beatrix was a mature woman of 36 years old, but ultimately she was still a child in her parents’ eyes and felt too meek to stand up to them. She had no option but to respect their wishes, and although she was deeply mortified and humiliated at her apparent lack of free will, Beatrix wrote to Norman hinting of the turbulence swirling at home:

  I have to apologise for not having answered your letter, and I regret that I cannot call at the office again before leaving town. If I had not supposed that the matter would be dealt with through the post, I should not have mentioned the subject of another book at present.

  I have had such painful unpleasantness at home this winter about the work that I should like a rest from scolding while I am away. I should be obliged if you will kindly say no more about a new book at present.

  It was becoming increasingly clear to the staff at Warnes that Beatrix was struggling to work effectively at home, and they were becoming concerned about her welfare, but it was difficult for them to interfere. Her private life was exactly that, and Beatrix rarely revealed how unhappy she was with the situation. On the odd occasions when Norman did attempt to negotiate contracts and various other business matters with Rupert on Beatrix’s behalf it tended to cause even more problems and repercussions for her afterwards.

  Rupert could be a difficult man to deal with at the best of times, and occasionally even downright rude to people who he considered to be below his social standing, and even though Beatrix found it acutely embarrassing she had no choice but to ask her employers to be patient and accept the situation she found herself in: ‘If my father happens to insist on going with me to see t
he agreement, would you please not mind him very much, he is very fidgety about things,’ she told Norman. ‘I am afraid it is not a very respectful way of talking, and I don’t wish to refer to it again; but I think it is better to mention beforehand he is sometimes a little difficult. I can, of course, do what I like about the book, being thirty-six. I suppose it is a habit of old gentlemen; but sometimes rather trying.’

  Their daughter was now an adult with a flourishing career, and a newfound sense of purpose, but Rupert and Helen remained deeply suspicious of the friends she was making in the publishing world, and strongly doubted any of their motives were honourable or trustworthy. As it transpired, they were right.

  Chapter Nine

  Beatrix’s friendship with Norman had in fact strayed beyond a strictly professional interaction, and a mutual attraction was rapidly developing between them. He was unmarried and growing increasingly fond of his new star author. As their working relationship intensified, their letters covered more personal matters as Beatrix hinted at the problems she was enduring at home. Norman felt great sympathy at her predicament, and their friendship began to grow steadily warmer.

  Beatrix’s cynical parents may have spotted what was going on even before Beatrix did, and it goes without saying that they were completely horrified at the idea of a romantic relationship of any sort. In their eyes publishing was merely a trade, and the idea of their only daughter marrying a tradesperson was absolutely out of the question.

  Although they were wealthy themselves, they still wanted Beatrix to marry well, but the problem with that was that the Potters were not quite rich or well connected enough to give her the sort of dowry that would guarantee the perfect man would choose Beatrix. She did not have enough to offer a very rich man – even if any were interested. The Potters had ideas way above their station and had never quite managed to access the highest social echelons which they aspired to, meaning Beatrix had been left flailing. While other unmarried girls were being dressed up and paraded around balls and parties where they would be introduced to aristocratic potential husbands, Beatrix did not have as many options open to her. She loathed fashion, dreaded small talk, was incapable of flirting and felt so awkward at parties that the invitations soon dried up.

  Beatrix had very few female friends, she had never been to school and it was unlikely she was ever going to meet any potential suitors by chance. Since her world was so small, and she was so cripplingly shy and ordinary looking, her parents assumed that she would at least eventually find a solid, respectable businessman to marry – perhaps not aristocracy or landed gentry, but certainly not one in trade!

  Norman was a far cry from the sort of man the Potters hoped would join their family, a son-in-law who could boost their social standing another rung up the ladder. Norman still lived in his father’s townhouse at No. 8 Bedford Square, in a flat above the family firm’s office. His older brother Harold had taken over running the company from his father Frederick, and employed Norman to help, while their siblings Fruing and Edith had both married and moved away. Their youngest sister Millie still lived at home.

  Whenever there was a holiday or birthday the entire extended Warne family would descend on Bedford Square to celebrate, and now Beatrix found herself invited to join the parties in their happy, rowdy and easy-going household. These gatherings came as a complete revelation to Beatrix, she had never witnessed relaxed and enjoyable festivities quite like it. She loved being included in their high-spirited parties and found she soon overcame her shyness when she was around Norman and his boisterous brothers. She quickly befriended their unmarried little sister Millie who took an instant liking to Beatrix, as did their widowed mother.

  Having spent time observing Norman in his natural habitat, surrounded by his close-knit family at home, slowly but surely Beatrix had begun to fall in love with him.

  She could not help but smile when at Christmas he cheerfully dressed up as Santa in red robes and a long white beard, speaking in a muffled voice as he handed his nieces and nephews their presents. When he took a lantern to lead Beatrix down into his basement workshop one evening to show her the dolls houses he was carefully crafting for his nieces, she was utterly charmed.

  Norman was a bachelor in his mid-thirties, slightly younger than Beatrix, and his mother was very keen for her son to find a nice young woman to marry and have children with. But like Beatrix, he was so desperately shy around all the women that she introduced him to that she feared her son was destined to remain a solitary bachelor for life. Norman did not appear remotely interested in any of the women he met. He was devoted to his job and when he was not working he preferred to spend his weekends boating or scampering around the woods with his butterfly net.

  However, with Beatrix – or Miss Potter, as he always called her – something felt different. Although she was just as shy as he was, they appeared to have developed a quiet mutual understanding of one another over the months they had been working closely together. Norman was the first of the Warne brothers to spot Beatrix’s enormous untapped potential as an artist, and although she blushed deeply whenever he praised her work, she also responded enthusiastically to his editing suggestions, and they collaborated very successfully together. Soon she was not addressing her letters impersonally to the company, but to Norman himself. Gradually, the tone of those letters became less formal and brisk, as Beatrix began to realise that Norman was also interested in her opinions on various matters that had nothing to do with the books.

  Norman admired Beatrix’s strong personality as well as her talent. In turn, Beatrix warmed to his sense of humour and imagination, and it was not very long before they were exchanging letters every day. ‘It was the strangest of courtships,’ said Winifred Warne, Norman’s niece, years later. ‘They were never alone together. When Beatrix went to the office she was always chaperoned and when she went to Bedford Square [the Warne household] some other member of the family would always be there, too.’

  Everything was going smoothly until Norman dared to suggest that perhaps Beatrix might find it easier to draw the doll’s house if she visited it in Winifred’s nursery, at his brother’s home in Surbiton. Beatrix loved the idea, but Mrs Potter was aghast. She was quite scandalized at the suggestion of her daughter doing something so bold and after yet another argument with her mother, Beatrix was forced to accept the decision was beyond her control and had to make her excuses to Norman.

  ‘I should like to show you the mouse book,’ she wrote.

  I have planned it out, and begun some drawings of Hunca Munca – I think you will like them. I was very much perplexed about the doll’s house. I would have gone gladly to draw it, and I should be so very sorry if Mrs. Warne or you thought me uncivil. I did not think I could manage to go to Surbiton without staying to lunch. I hardly ever go out and my mother is so exacting I had not enough spirit to say anything about it. I have felt vexed with myself since, but I did not know what to do. It does wear a person out.

  Mrs Potter was highly suspicious of Norman’s motives, but that did not put him off. Instead he boldly wrote back to Beatrix suggesting a way around the problem – he asked if she and her mother would both like to come to Surbiton together for lunch: ‘I don’t think that my mother would be very likely to want to go to Surbiton,’ came the despondent reply from Bolton Gardens. ‘You did not understand what I meant by “exacting”. People who only see her casually do not know how disagreeable she can be when she takes dislikes. I should have been glad enough to go.’

  Stuck in her childhood bedroom without the strength to stand up to her mother, Beatrix was left with no choice but to draw the doll’s house based on photographs Norman sent her, and of course her memories of seeing it in his workshop during that magical Christmas party.

  She was mortified at the idea that Norman would think she was being rude or unfriendly by turning down his kind invitation, and she wanted him to know how much she wanted to go. She wrote apologising again, saying: ‘As far as the book is concerned,
I think I can do it from the photograph and my box; but it’s very hard to seem uncivil.’

  By June 1905 Beatrix knew that she could make a serious career out of her books, and that there was a real chance of earning enough money to live independently, far away from her interfering parents, perhaps one day with Norman.

  She wrote to him explaining that she was eager for them to get started on another new title together. As well as loving the creative process, Beatrix was also beginning to fear that without having the books to work on together, she might also lose Norman’s attention. They had a long-running and easy-going friendship, which meant an enormous amount to her. ‘I wish another book could be planned out before the summer, if we are going on with them,’ she wrote to him. ‘I always feel very much lost when they are finished. I do so hate finishing books, I would like to go on with them for years.’

  Luckily Norman was smart enough to read between the lines, and later that summer he proposed to Beatrix. She accepted immediately, and they could no longer hide the depth of their feelings from Beatrix’s parents. Even though both of them were approaching forty, the Potters refused point blank to give their permission for a wedding. They told Beatrix she was forbidden from marrying Norman, and did everything in their power to stop the engagement from being announced publicly.

  For the next few months the family was at war. Rupert and Helen could not tolerate the idea of their family being tied to a mere publisher, and while Beatrix had always respected their wishes in the past she felt she had to fight back on this matter. She felt guilty for upsetting them, but insisted that they were being unreasonable; their grounds for disliking Norman seemed unfair and snobbish to her. As Sara Glenn, curator of the Warne archives, noted: ‘Their love affair was all cloak and dagger stuff.’

  Her parents were frantic with worry that one of their friends might hear about the scandal, and insisted that Beatrix did not discuss the matter with anyone outside the house. Even after Norman had confided in his brother Harold about the engagement, Beatrix remained reluctant to talk about it in public for fear of inflaming her parents still further.