Beatrix Potter (1866–1943), cherished author, illustrator, conservationist—and patron saint of cottagecore and critterposting—is the subject of an intimate and illuminating new exhibit at the Morgan Library & Museum in New York City. Created by the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, the touring collection makes its final stop at the Morgan, where it will be on view through June 9. “Drawn to Nature” brings together more than 175 objects, including artwork, books, manuscripts, and artifacts, as well as the Morgan’s collection of a dozen of Potter’s picture letters featuring the animal characters that went on to star in her children’s books and captivate generations of readers.
On February 22, Philip Palmer, Robert H. Taylor curator and department head of literary and historical manuscripts at the Morgan, gave a preview of the exhibit, which traces Potter’s childhood years in Kensington, London; her formative summers in Scotland and the English Lake District; her prolific publishing career; and her second act as a prize-winning sheep breeder and fell farmer in Cumbria. Palmer described the exhibit as “nostalgic” in many ways, for those of us who grew up with her books, adding that it also brings to light lesser-known stories about the beloved author. Above all, he said the collection highlights “the pervasive influence of nature on Potters’ creations... situating her life and work in the natural world she held so dear.” As Potter reflected in a letter late in her life, she had always been fascinated by “the thousand objects of the countryside; that pleasant, unchanging world of realism and romance.” This rich interplay between realism and fantasy, Palmer said, is an animating force in Potter’s work.
The first section of the exhibit, titled “Town and Country,” invites viewers to explore Potter’s upbringing in Kensington, where she was part of an affluent and arts-loving family. Her parents practiced painting and photography and filled their home with artwork, including several pieces by Randolph Caldecott, whom Potter described as “immortal” and “one of the greatest illustrators of all.” She and her younger brother Bertram kept a menagerie of animals, including a rotating cast of lizards, snakes, frogs, mice, hedgehogs, and yes, rabbits. Potter owned more than 90 pets in her lifetime. But the children weren’t sentimental about their animal companions; after a pet died, they’d often perform dissections and draw detailed anatomical studies. In the second portion of the gallery, “Under the Microscope,” visitors see how family holidays in the countryside offered further opportunities for natural investigation and experiments. Potter was particularly interested in mycology, the study of fungi, and with the help of a microscope, she made intricate watercolor sketches of specimens—some of which are on display at the Morgan. She submitted a paper on her findings to the Linnean Society, but it’s unclear whether her work was even considered. It was later reappraised as being ahead of its time.
In the 1890s, Potter began channeling her artistic gifts in commercial illustrations for greeting cards and picture letters to the children of her former governess, Annie Moore. The largest part of the exhibit, “A Natural Storyteller,” charts how, with encouragement from Moore, the author’s books emerged from these letters. Her debut picture book, The Tale of Peter Rabbit, has sold more than 45 million copies, spawned countless merchandise, and has been adapted to film—but it was originally turned down by publishers, and Potter paid to have the book printed herself. It was a hit, and in 1902, after initially rejecting the book, Frederick Warne & Co. signed on as publisher. Reflecting on the success of her creation, Potter said, “The book was written to a child, not made to order.” Preparatory sketches and variant watercolors provide insight into her creative process, and her miniature letters addressed to children demonstrate how her characters’ lives extended beyond the pages of her books.
Never losing sight of her readers, she went on to form a veritable publishing empire. Long before Harry Potter and Pottermore, Beatrix Potter oversaw a range of licensed products, from toys and dolls to tea sets to board games. Her books’ endpapers showcase the growing universe of animal protagonists joining Peter, including Benjamin Bunny, Tom Kitten, Jemima Puddle-duck, Squirrel Nutkin, and (Palmer’s personal favorite) Mr. Jeremy Fisher, to name a few. Palmer described the “careful control she exercised over the visual elements of her books, her meticulous negotiation of royalties, and her close hand in creating merchandise based on her characters,” testaments to her “business acumen.” She insisted on a small trim size, wanting to make “little books that were affordable to little rabbits,” as she wrote in a letter.
On her work’s enduring appeal, Palmer said, “Though her illustrations are essentially fantastical, they’re suffused with a natural realism that blends human and animal behaviors in convincing fashion.” As a result, he added, “These are not simply cutesy stories of anthropomorphized animals, but rather tales in which animals follow their natural—often violent—instincts. Dangers abound.” A keen observer of animal behavior, Potter combined her scientific eye with wit and whimsy. The exhibit includes reading nooks in which children can cozy up with her books and experience the magic themselves.
The final section of the show, “Living Nature,” spotlights how Potter’s success as an author enabled her to purchase Hill Top Farm in the Lake District in 1905, where she spent the remaining decades of her life as a farmer and sheep breeder with her husband, William Heelis. Walking through the gallery, Palmer spoke of her support of the local Girl Guides (a kind of Girl Scouts organization) and her fervent advocacy for the land. Upon her death, Potter donated four thousand acres of farmland to the U.K. National Trust, in a sense re-gifting to the public the inspiration she drew from the countryside all her life. On display are Potter’s walking stick—which Palmer pointed out features a hidden magnifying glass and the names of her Pekingese dogs Chuw and Susi inscribed—and her well-worn clogs. Viewers can imagine what it might have been like to experience the countryside through Potter’s eyes and in her shoes.
At the time of her death in 1943, Potter received no obituary in the New York Times, an omission that was rectified this year as part of the NYT’s “Overlooked” series. This exhibit should go a long way in ensuring that her genius continues to be remembered.
