New Acquisitions: Drawings by Beatrix and Bertram Potter of Peter Rabbit, Mushrooms and a Kestrel

A Family of Artists: Beatrix, Rupert, and Bertram Potter

A Family of Artists: Beatrix, Rupert, and Bertram Potter

Many people pity Beatrix Potter for her restrictive upbringing with limited contact with other children  in the family home at 2 Bolton Gardens, London.  For someone with her gifts, there were hidden advantages to her circumstances.  Instead of being sent to school, she was educated by governesses, one of whom, Annie Moore, became a life-long friend.  Beatrix and her younger brother Walter Bertram sound as if they were allowed to do pretty much what they liked in the school room on the top floor, which contained a small menagerie, a lab furnished with space for the dissection of specimens and their examination under the microscope.  There was plenty of time for them to record what they saw in detailed sketches.   In fact, they both drew constantly.

An unfinished portrait of Beatrix by Bertram in the collection of the V&A.

Their parents Rupert and Helen were artistic themselves and greatly attracted nature; the children’s interests were developed by the opportunities by the family’s wealth to take summer vacations in Scotland and the Lake District.  From their teens onward, Beatrix and Walter used their freedom to explore the countryside and draw in their sketch books.  They surely found inspiration in the classic story “Eyes and No Eyes,” by John Aikin from Evenings at Home (1792-1796).  Many Victorian writers, including John Ruskin, Charles Kingsley, and Mrs. Molesworth, testified that reading it awakened their curiosity and sense of wonder by letting William describe everything he saw on a walk to Broom Heath.  Nothing escaped his attention and everything delighted him, from the shy kingfisher, a cluster of sea shells in a marl pit, the remains of a Roman or Danish camp, the water rat who disappeared into his hole in the river bank.  I can imagine Beatrix and Walter taking as much satisfaction in their adventures as did William.In 2023 and 2024 the Cotsen Children’s Library was exceptionally fortunate to have acquired two natural history drawings by Beatrix and one by Walter.Attracted by their strange beauty, Beatrix began painting fungi in the late 1880s but it was not until she made the acquaintance of Charles McIntosh, the so-called Perthshire Naturalist, that she began to make a serious study of them.  This fine drawing was not signed or dated by Beatrix, but it was for a time owned by Captain Kenneth Duke, one of her executors.  Doris Frohnsdorff, the distinguished Potter collector and antiquarian bookseller, purchased it and it was acquired from her estate.Also from the Frohnsdorff estate is this beautiful drawing of a kestrel executed by Bertram in 1886 which displays his considerable talent as a natural history artist.  The small bird of prey is standing on one leg, the other one resting against the fluffy feathers on the lower part of the body.  Its bright black eyes stare fearlessly at the viewer.   Kestrels can be identified by the way they hover while hunting.  Since Betram drew this specimen, the species’ population has dropped considerably.Beatrix’s splendid watercolor over pencil drawing of Peter Rabbit’s head from ten different angles dated 1901.  It was torn out of a sketch book by Beatrix in 1928 and presented to seventeen-year-old Ernestine t’Hooft.  She was the daughter of a curator at the Museum Fodor in Amsterdam, who was visiting with the Lake District with her family.  During the visit, Ernestine bought a copy of Jemima Puddle-duck for her collection of Potter little books and the saleswoman told her that her favorite author lived nearby.  Her father wrote to Potter (or rather Mrs. Heelis) and asked if they might visit her.  The t’Hoofts were invited to tea and spent a very pleasant afternoon at Castle Cottage.  Before they left, she presented Ernestine with this marvelous drawing of Peter from ten different angles, inscribed and dated it 1928.  Ernestine kept her entire life: after her death, it came on the Dutch market.

Last but not least is another new Potter acquisition that fills a gap in the collection–one of Beatrix’s drawings for Christmas cards published by Hildesheimer and Faulkner.

 

Little Red Riding Hood Retold by Beatrix Potter and Illustrated by Helen Oxenbury

Beatrix Potter understood very well the power of hunger.  The fox and wolf she cast as villains in her two versions of Little Red Riding Hood are wily rascals whose bellies ache.  While they may be cleverer than their prey, it is not a foregone conclusion that they will get what they want.

The Tale of Jemima Puddle-duck (1908) was clearly inspired by the familiar fairy tale.  The heroine, dressed in a blue bonnet and pink patterned shawl meets a friendly gentleman with black prick ears and sandy-colored whiskers while she looks for a safe nesting place. She confides in him her secret plan to hatch eggs outside the farm and he graciously offers a convenient space cozy with feathers where she can sit on them afternoons. Luckily she also confesses where she has been going to Kep the collie dog, who immediately sees through foxy gentleman’s courtesies, recruits the fox-hound puppies as allies, and saves her silly neck—but not the eggs.

Four years later Potter retold Perrault, this time following the text very closely, adding only the woodcutters from Grimm and an original work song.   She started planning the illustrations, because photographs of a model dressed in a cape and sketches of the girl and wolf meeting on the path survive. Perhaps she set it aside during the production of The Tale of Mr. Tod (1912) with its disagreeable characters the badger Tommy Brock and the fox, barely recognizable as Jemima’s gentleman.  After Potter decided against inserting this story into The Fairy Caravan (1929), the manuscript lay unpublished until Leslie Linder transcribed it in A History of the Writings of Beatrix Potter (1971).  In 2019 Warne issued it with splendid illustrations by Helen Oxenbury that are perfectly in tune with Potter’s words.

Oxenbury, like Potter, doesn’t shy away from frightening elements in the story, believing that “Children like a little darkness.”  Drawing the wolf she found a very attractive assignment, feeling like an actor landing a juicy part of nasty customer after playing a series of ordinary characters.  The first picture of him shows the belt of his plus-fours pulled so tight after a three-days’ fast that there are pleats all the waist. He is watching behind a fence the movements of woodmen, whose presence prevent him from going home when Red Riding Hood unexpectedly pulls the gate open.  Not daring to attack her, he strikes up a conversation.  No wiser than Jemima, she answers his questions without realizing she has just shown him how easily she might be caught.  He proposes they take different ways to granny’s and see who gets there first. He runs all the way there, sneaks through the garden to the door,  gains entrance under false pretenses and gets right down to what he came for.  Decisive, energetic, and thorough, that’s a starving carnivore.

Far quieter are the pictures where the main figure is Red Riding Hood. Oxenbury is alive to humous elements in Potter’s text, but keeps her illustrations a little sharp underneath the prettiness, as in the one where Red Riding Hood’s mother and gran fuss over the little girl: “Her mother was fair silly about her and her granny was sillier still.” Red Riding Hood’s walk through the fields and forest to her grandmother’s capture the beauties of an English summer day, the light, the leafy trees, the long grasses, and nodding flowers. When the little girl dawdles along the way, gathering a posy for her granny, picking nuts and strawberries, time seems to stop.  The next opening, where the sun is so low that she looks behind her nervously as it someone might be following her, even though she has seen no one since she left her mother’s house except for the wolf, is a reminder that the story will play out as it must. Even when Red Riding Hood sees her “granny” sit up in bed, inspecting her as coldly as the fox did Jemima, she can’t put two and two together.  So she continues to sit beside him in her grandmother’s clothes, asking questions about the surprising change in her appearance–arms and ears, which have sprouted coarse, bristly hairs, eyes, which look jaundiced, and big, strong, sharp white teeth.  Well, that is the end of her.

Oxenbury had the last laugh when she sets up a plausible final confrontation between the woodmen and the wolf, now so bloated from gorging that his unbuttoned trousers are pulled up to his arm pits.  He has just heard the woodmen’s shouts in the distance as they pursue him.  Beating them to his door seems a long shot when his ankles are so swollen above his two-tone Oxfords.  And that’s there the illustrator leaves it, offering comfort for the sensitive and rough justice for bloody-minded.  Even though she didn’t write it, Potter would have appreciated this marvelous ending.

Neither version of Little Red Riding Hood would be so satisfying if Potter had changed the natural dynamics between the predators and the prey  because the implicit violence might be too much for her readers.   But even city kids know that real foxes and dogs will and do eat other animals, so why not ducks and their eggs?  Kep rescued Jemima because it was his job as the farm dog, but some children may grasp that the chance to destroy his enemy the fox was probably just as strong motive.  Many children see that the wolf was not looking for a little girl to eat, but when one crossed his path and talked to him, she became fair game.  Of course, there will always be extremely sensitive children who are better shielded from stories like this until they can handle them, if and when the time comes. In the best twice-told tales, the story teller keeps alive in the reader a scrap of hope that somehow this time the victim will escape. The predators here would have to change their natures and stop hunting for that to happen.  Potter and Oxenbury quietly demonstrate why that this cannot be, but suggest that stranger things do occasionally happen.