Elizabeth of the German Garden – A Literary Journey: A biography of Elizabeth von Arnim

By Jennifer Walker

Jennifer Walker’s recent biography of the author Elizabeth von Arnim (1866 – 1941) provides a fascinating and comprehensive introduction to this writer and her entertaining novels. 

Her first best-selling work of fiction, Elizabeth and her German Garden (1898), launched a long and distinguished writing career. Writing as ‘Elizabeth’, she immediately became a literary celebrity and went on to publish twenty more eagerly anticipated novels. With their unique humour and brand of rebellious feminism, these won high critical praise and gained a wide readership across the world. 

Known today as Elizabeth von Arnim, this author’s most famous novel now is probably The Enchanted April (1922), but modern readers will appreciate the lively approach and relevance of all her work. This biography delves into the character of the remarkable woman whose life story provided much of the material and inspiration for her fiction. 

Born Mary Annette Beauchamp in Sydney, Australia, she was brought up in London. A talented musician, she married the much older Prussian Count Henning von Arnim and whilst living an isolated married life in Pomerania, began writing novels with professional determination and ability, astounding critics and engaging with her many readers across the world. Her novels address many issues of female life and also encourage readers to join their skilful author in her search for joy in nature and happiness. 

In this meticulously researched biography, we read of her many close friends and admirers, which include H G Wells and other well-known authors of the day as well as a much younger lover. Her deep friendship with her younger cousin Katherine Mansfield is highlighted, and her escape from a disastrous second marriage to Lord Francis Russell (older brother of Bertrand) described. We find how Elizabeth, always acutely aware of Anglo-German tensions, was twice forced to abandon her home before advancing German armies in Europe. 

This biography offers the modern reader a fresh perspective on the life and work of this author who despite personal difficulties and tragedy, became one of the most fascinating personalities of the early twentieth century’s literary history.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Release date: May 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9781800465886

Jennifer Walker

For fifteen years Jennifer Walker lived near Geneva in Switzerland. In 2005, her discovery of the magnificent location of Elizabeth von Arnim's Chalet Soleil inspired her to begin writing this biography. Now retired from music teaching, Jennifer has published several articles on von Arnim's work. Jennifer lives near Clare in Suffolk, England.

Book preview

ELIZABETH OF THE GERMAN GARDEN: A LITERARY JOURNEY

ELIZABETH OF THE GERMAN GARDEN: A LITERARY JOURNEY

A Biography of Elizabeth von Arnim

Jennifer Walker

Copyright © 2021 Jennifer Walker

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers

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Much have I travell’d in the realms of gold,

And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;

Round many western islands have I been

Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.

John Keats, On First Looking into Chapman’s Homer, 1816.

Contents

Acknowledgements

Author’s Note: What’s in a name?

Part 1: Mary Beauchamp Becomes Elizabeth of the German Garden

Notes

Bibliography

Index

Acknowledgements

This journey into the life and writing of ‘Elizabeth’ has been both personal and literary, and could not have been made without the help and support of my family, many friends in Switzerland and England, and people who have freely given their time to help my quest. These include scholars and librarians, and those who, without even knowing who ‘Elizabeth’ was, have become interested and added their own expertise.

I would like to give my grateful thanks to the descendants of ‘Elizabeth’ who have supplied me with photographs and family knowledge. In this context, I would like to mention especially Ann Hardham, who has given her permission for me to quote from the biography by Leslie de Charms (Liebet, Elizabeth’s daughter) and from the Countess Russell papers held at the Huntington Library, San Marino, California and supplied many photographs; also to Caroline Gathorne-Hardy, who has read my manuscript and given much useful advice. Jamie Ritchie allowed me to search his family archives and supplied photographs; David Norton sent me photographs and family historical background; his father Christopher Norton very generously gave his time to relate accounts of family events. My correspondence with Adrian Beauchamp has helped with more family and historical records and Jasper von Arnim supplied details of the family background from Germany, as well as photographs.

A special debt of gratitude is owed to Gayle Richardson of the Huntington Library at San Marino, California, for her endless patience in answering queries and sending me copies of relevant documents from the Countess Russell papers. I would also like to record grateful thanks to Dennis Sears at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign for supplying material relating to H G Wells.

My contact with librarians has been very rewarding and I would like to mention especially Peter Horton and Paul Collen at the Royal College of Music, and Janet Snowman and Bridget Palmer for material from the special collections and archives at the Royal Academy of Music. Peter Henderson, Walpole Librarian at the Kings School, Canterbury, provided material from his collections. I was supplied with information by Christine Maynard from the Fernhurst Archive, by Helen Orme at the Centre for Kentish Studies, by the Haslemere library, and by Isobelle Mercier from the Musée Historique at Lausanne and Eleonore Rinaldi Lecciso from the Archives de Montreux.

Professor Alan Atkinson of the University of Sydney, New South Wales, undertook some research on my behalf into the birthplace of Mary Beauchamp, providing invaluable information. My correspondence with Felix Stellfeldt helped my appreciation of the work of Willhelm Busch and Elisabeth von Heyking. My correspondence with Richard Ormond established the non-existence of a John Singer Sargent portrait of Elizabeth; for this I am most grateful.

Many scholars have provided help and encouragement. I would like to mention Ulrike Horstmann-Guthrie, whose inspirational teaching helped to update my knowledge of literary studies. Contact with scholars working on Elizabeth has been especially rewarding; in particular, I would like to mention Dr Isobel Maddison and Dr Erica Brown. I am also most grateful for encouragement from Dr Emelyne Godfrey for my work connected with H G Wells, and Gillian Mawrey of the Historic Gardens Foundation for my work connected with the garden at Nassenheide. Without the assistance of Mark Powell and ACE Cultural Tours, I would never have visited the Island of Rügen or the site of Nassenheide. Recently, my contact with the Katherine Mansfield Society has brought further insight into the complex relationship between the Beauchamp cousins, ‘Elizabeth’ and Katherine Mansfield.

My friends in Switzerland include Beatrice de Courten and her husband (owners of the present Chalet Soleil), who generously allowed me access to the Little Chalet, and Sylvie Doriot Galofaro, whose scholarly work on the history of Crans Montana has been an inspiration. Also in Switzerland, my knowledgeable friends Richard Vyvyan and Michael and Elizabeth Knight provided early support and encouragement. John and Elizabeth Douglas took me to see the bust of Correvon in the former alpine garden of the Parc Floraire in Geneva. In England, I have had much support from Diana Hirst, a fellow independent scholar and Elizabeth enthusiast. My friend Hilary Smith has had to endure endless discussions on Elizabeth and always provided sympathy and encouragement.

Above all, I would like to mention close members of my family. My husband George Walker has been closely involved from the start of this journey and has been unfailingly supportive in every possible way. My sister Alison Uren and her husband Dr Michael Uren came to my rescue when I was overwhelmed with the technical aspects of producing the book. I would like also to mention the continuous interest and encouragement I received from my brother, the late Dr Andrew Hill.

My editor at The Book Guild, Joanna Bentley, has provided unfailing support and advice when it was much needed. I would like to add my gratitude to all those at The Book Guild whose efforts have helped transform my project into a professionally produced, published work.

Further thanks for permissions to quote are acknowledged as follows: letters to Elizabeth Russell from Alexander Stuart Frere-Reeves and from Lord Francis Russell have been reproduced by permission of The Huntington Library, San Marino, California. Thanks for permissions to reproduce copyright material go to the Society of Authors: firstly as agent for the Provost and Scholars of King’s College Cambridge for extracts from the diaries of E M Forster, and secondly as the Literary Representative of the Estate of Katherine Mansfield; letters to H G Wells from Elizabeth are reproduced by courtesy of the Rare Book and Manuscript Library, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, and extracts from ‘Elizabeth’, The Author of Elizabeth and Her German Garden by Karen Usborne are reprinted by permission of Peters Fraser & Dunlop (www.petersfraserdunlop.com) on behalf of Karen Usborne. My thanks for permission to quote from The Passionate Friends go to A P Watt Ltd on behalf of the Literary Executors of the Estate of H G Wells, and to the Immediate Media Company London Limited for re-publication rights from E M Forster’s article ‘Recollections of Nassenheide’, as published in The Listener magazine, 1 January 1959. My thanks go to Olivia Swinnerton for her permission to publish quotations from her father Frank Swinnerton’s Autobiography and Figures in the Foreground and to Sutton Publishing Ltd for quotations from Rupert Hart-Davis’s biography of Hugh Walpole. Kathleen Jones had kindly given me her permission to quote from her biography of Katherine Mansfield, Katherine Mansfield, The Storyteller. My thanks go to News International Trading Ltd for permission to reproduce The Times obituary of the Countess Russell.

Other quotations are either out of copyright or brief enough to permit publication under the normal convention of ‘fair dealing’. For all quotations I have done my best to seek permission where required; I would be grateful to hear from any of those I may inadvertently have omitted.

I am grateful for permissions from the following sources to reproduce photographs: to Ann Hardham, Jamie Ritchie, David Norton and Jasper von Arnim for photographs supplied by them from family collections; the Archive Centre, King’s College Cambridge for photographs of E M Forster, and the Rare Book and Manuscript Library, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign for pictures of H G Wells. Permission has also been given by the McMaster University Library, Hamilton Ontario for reproduction of the photograph of Lord Francis Russell, and by the Mary Evans Picture Library/David Lewis Hodgson for the photographs of Telegraph House. I have permission from the Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand, to reproduce the pictures of Katherine Mansfield. Getty Images have given permission to use images of the Countess Russell taken by Eric Schaal for Life magazine.

All efforts have been made to obtain permissions for photographs; I would be grateful to know of any sources which have not been included.

Author’s Note: What’s in a Name?

It is hardly surprising that confusion reigns over the name given to the author of the once-famous Elizabeth and her German Garden, which appeared in 1898. Designed by its young author to mystify her readers, the identity of the mysterious Elizabeth remains elusive to this day.

The author was eventually revealed as being Mary, the Gräfin von Arnim, born in Australia but English by education and upbringing. At the time of the publication of her first book, Mary was living on her husband’s estate in Prussia; hence the ‘German Garden’. Her birth name was Mary Annette Beauchamp. However, she was not simply English; her father was English and her mother born in Australia. Mary herself spent the first three years of her life in Australia but lived in London until her marriage.

In the course of the following narrative, I will show that Mary assumed an identity parallel with, but not identical to, her own when she wrote. Elizabeth was not a pen-name, but another creation: one who existed in the imagination of Mary.

After the anonymous publication of Elizabeth and her German Garden, almost all of her books were published as being ‘by the author of Elizabeth and her German Garden’, and this was precisely what they were. Mary was the author, not Elizabeth.

In the 1980s, the Virago Press reissued many of the novels as being by the author Elizabeth von Arnim. This combination of Elizabeth (the fictitious author) with von Arnim (Mary’s married name) has frequently led to the assumption that Elizabeth was German. She would have been amused by this but far from delighted. In later life, following her second marriage to Lord Francis Russell in 1916, and despite their subsequent bitter separation, Mary was always known as the Countess Russell.

As the story of Mary’s life unfolds, parallel events and characters in her fiction reveal an imagination inspired by a reworking of her experiences. Her life proved an ample source of material.

So, this is the story of how, by the strangest of ironies, a woman whose books are so concerned with exploring identity has somehow lost hers. It is the story of Mary, a courageous and independent woman, whose remarkable life spanned the turbulent years from the end of the nineteenth century until the outbreak of the Second World War. As she fled the advance of the German Army for the second time in her life, Mary must have reflected that the story of her life was indeed stranger than any of her fiction.

Part 1

Mary Beauchamp Becomes Elizabeth of the German Garden

1

1866-1874: From Australia to Europe

On 11 January 1870, a family group assembled with all their belongings on the old quayside of Sydney, Australia. They were ready, after months of preparation, to join the sailing ship, La Hogue, bound for London. The ship was going to leave the following day and the journey would take them over three months. On board, along with the total of forty-five cabin passengers and thirty-three steerage passengers, there was a heavy cargo of thousands of bales of wool, cotton, copper plates and ingots, and over 300 casks of tallow and other sundry items, including all necessary supplies of food and drink for the voyage. La Hogue was a magnificent English three-masted ship of some 1,321 tons and sailed under the command of Captain William Goddard. By February 1870, she rounded Cape Horn, and by March crossed the equator. After sailing for three months, she arrived safely at her destination on 24 April.

This was the ship that took the Beauchamp family across the world, and how Mary Annette Beauchamp, aged three, went to Europe. She never returned to the place of her birth. For her family, the decision to leave Sydney had been difficult, but Mary’s father, Henry Herron Beauchamp, was looking forward to returning to his home country, England, which he had left as an adventurous young man some twenty years earlier. Now a successful and prosperous businessman, he was taking his wife Elizabeth (known as Louey), his four sons, Ralph, Sydney, Walter and Henry, and his two daughters, the beautiful young Charlotte and little Mary, back to the land of his birth. Two of his sons were destined to have exceptional careers in their adopted country, but it was the youngest member, Mary, who was to be famous.

There were two other relations on board the ship: Henry’s niece, Emma Beauchamp, and his father-in-law, the Reverend M. Lassetter from Tasmania. They were accompanied by two helpers: Miss Miles, a governess who would see to the children’s education during the journey, and a nurse known as Houlahan. The nurse’s principal duty during the voyage would be to attend to the needs of the youngest member of the family, the three-year-old Mary Annette. The twelve members of the Beauchamp group would therefore make up a large proportion of the cabin passengers.

It is unlikely that the little Mary Annette (called May by her family) remembered much about this momentous sea journey. Undoubtedly, however, something of the whole experience remained with her, instilling her imagination with thoughts and dreams of another life. She inherited her father’s restlessness and was seldom happy unless planning yet another journey. Travel and themes of escape, of transitions from one environment to another, were integral to many of the novels she later wrote as Elizabeth.

Travelling was very much in the family blood. Henry Herron Beauchamp was the fourth of eight sons of a London silversmith, John Beauchamp, and was the first of the Beauchamp brothers to leave London for the Southern Hemisphere. Others would follow, including the sixth son, Arthur, who eventually settled in Wellington, New Zealand. Here, his son Harold’s daughter, Kathleen Beauchamp, was born in 1888. As a young woman, Kathleen travelled back to London and became a writer, adopting the name of Katherine Mansfield. Mary Beauchamp and Kathleen were therefore first cousins once removed, Kathleen having been born twenty-two years after Mary. They shared, along with much else, the Beauchamp family restlessness and need to travel. Both lived and died far from their native and adopted lands.

*****

Mary’s life began in Sydney, Australia, where she was born on 31 August 1866. Her destiny was to become a successful and popular writer, widely known as Elizabeth after the triumphant publication in 1898 of the first of her many books, the bestselling novel Elizabeth and her German Garden.

Mary may have taken the name Elizabeth from her mother, whose maiden name was Elizabeth Weiss Lassetter. She was the pretty daughter of a Methodist minister, the Reverend M. Lassetter, an early settler in Tasmania who was originally from San Francisco. Elizabeth Lassetter (always known as Louey) met Henry Beauchamp in Sydney where her brother, Frederick Lassetter, was trading as a successful shipping merchant. They married early in 1855 and a succession of children rapidly followed.

As Henry’s business flourished and his affluence increased, the expanding family moved to a variety of increasingly prestigious homes in Sydney. By the time of Mary’s birth they had acquired a large property with grounds covering an area of some 56 acres; it is now partly occupied by the present Clifton Gardens. The beautifully situated house, Clifton Lodge, overlooked Rose Bay. Here, it was announced in the Sydney Morning Herald of 22 September 1866, Mary was born. Her birth certificate¹ mentions that the name of the registrar was Robert Daziel Ward of Berry Street, St Leonard’s.

There has been some confusion over the exact place of Mary’s birth, which has even been placed by one biographer as being in New Zealand. However, this branch of the Beauchamp family always lived in Sydney. At first they lived at Woodlands, on Kirribilli Point, not far from the residence of the Governor of Australia, and moved later to Clifton House.

In the early days of the Beauchamps’ marriage and prior to the purchase of Woodlands, Mary’s oldest brother, Ralph, had been born in 1857 at the home of Elizabeth Beauchamp’s brother, Frederick Lassetter. The next three Beauchamp children were born at Woodlands, on Kirribilli Point. Mary’s older sister, Charlotte, was born there in 1858, her birth being followed three years later by her brothers, Sydney (1861) and Walter (1862). In 1864, the next son, Henry, was born at the Beauchamp’s very prestigious residence, Clifton House (St Leonard's Lodge). By the time of Mary's birth two years later on 31st August 1866, the family had left Clifton House but had not yet moved into their next property. It is possible that around the time of Mary’s birth, the Beauchamp family went to stay with the Lassetter family, who were living at a nearby large residence also on Kirribilli Point. Once Louey had recovered from what had been a difficult birth, the Beauchamp family moved into a nearby magnificent new home called Beulah, where their sixth and youngest child, Mary Annette, would spend the earliest years of her childhood until she and the whole family left Australia.

The incentive to leave this beautiful home in Sydney, with its enviable position overlooking the bay, and go to England came from Frederick Lassetter, Louey’s brother. He had already taken his own wife and six children there and longed for his relations to join him. The families had been close before Frederick left and he knew his sister was growing restless and bored in Sydney. He suggested that they should spend a year or two in London, and wrote adding that he and Henry could travel together all over Britain, the Continent and even go to California, where the Lassetter family came from. He sent his sister £200² as a present to help with any extra expenses and also said that he would find a house in London that would be large enough to accommodate both families, including all thirteen children.

Frederick was able to give the Beauchamps useful advice regarding the best way to travel, and recommended a sailing ship to a steamer. Steamers were small, uncomfortable, dirty and noisy at that time, so it was decided that they would travel on La Hogue. They had to make many preparations for the journey and take their own bedding, rugs and bags for soiled linen, as well as provide their own chests of drawers for clothing. Frederick advised taking hassocks for the children and folding chairs; he added that bolsters ‘to put under the lee side of your mattress’ would be ‘a great comfort when the ship is on a wind’. Last but not least, he advised a few pint bottles of champagne ‘if you get weak or low’.³ Such forethought would undoubtedly have helped the family during this epic voyage.

We have details of the family’s experiences on the voyage from Henry’s journal.⁴ To begin with they all suffered from seasickness but soon the cold weather made them voraciously hungry. Sometimes they found the daily rations inadequate. He describes how, after a complaint, he obtained extra rations:

ham sandwiches have been conceded to the ladies only, but these dear considerate creatures take an extra allowance on their plates which they generously pass along to those gentlemen they love the best, and (God be praised) I have thus far been sustained in pristine vigour by regular contributions from my loving wife, dear Miss Miles, and the resigned little widow....⁵

Ralph, the oldest boy, suffered severely from the cold as they rounded Cape Horn; Sydney, who was in worse shape, was buoyed up by his naturally high spirits. Conditions at this stage were atrocious; even Henry was beginning to regret having ever left their comfortable home in Sydney.

At the beginning of February, Henry tells of an incident on board which was to dampen their spirits further. A young man, already ill before the voyage and weakened by the conditions on board, suffered a sudden deterioration of his condition and died. He was buried at sea. It was pouring with rain and Henry records the comments of his children as they peered through the porthole:

Harry turning round and looking up in my face, remarked, grinning all over, ‘He’s gone’. Sydney was more solemnly impressed, and little May inquired curiously, ‘Pa, are him bellied?’⁶

Thus Mary’s reaction to this event is her first recorded utterance in her father’s journal.

The journal gives a realistic impression of the many ways in which the passengers entertained themselves with songs and games. Henry comments on his wife’s lively disposition and the entanglements of shipboard relationships. He recounts the discomforts and illnesses they all suffered, toothache being a common problem. Of more immediate concern to the Beauchamp party was young Harry, who went down with scarletina. On his recovery, the captain ordered a special cake:

...after the scarletina and his reappearance at the children’s table this afternoon signalised (by special desire of the Captain) by a gorgeous cake with a banner thereon bearing the inscription ‘Welcome back to health, Harry Beauchamp’...⁷

By the end of March the ship was crossing the equator and Henry’s spirits were rising:

...Rejoicing my eyes by again contemplating Ursa Major and the North Star not without some regretful glances at the Southern Cross still considerably above the horizon. The weather cool and delightful – sea beautifully blue with white trimmings and ethereal looking flying fish sporting over the surface.⁸

Perhaps their appearance made it more credible to the Beauchamp children when they were informed that a baby born to a steerage passenger had arrived at night, ‘on the back of an enormous flying fish’.⁹

Easter was approaching, and with it the anticipation of the end of this long sea journey. In the meantime, Henry’s main concern was that the food supply should keep hunger at bay until they docked. He wrote on Good Friday:

Four days of ordinary fair wind would take us to England but we may, on the other hand, be four weeks. However, we still have alive, 1 pig, 17 sheep, the two milch cows, besides a large number of parrots, a wombat, kangaroo, etc. etc., in addition to salted provisions in abundance. Children stuffing themselves today with cross buns, hot and cold.¹⁰

The voyage seemed endless. ‘Ships do arrive home sometimes, and perhaps ours will,’ Ralph (Rally) wistfully remarked.¹¹

It was customary for ships to anchor off Plymouth where a pilot boat would bring mail and take off any passengers wishing to disembark. It is recorded in The Times (25 April 1870) from Plymouth that the ship, La Hogue, ‘has passed up Channel for London’.

Finally, at eight o’clock in the morning on a miserable cold day in April, and after some delay at the mouth of the Thames, the anchor of La Hogue was let down. Henry wrote:

Succeeded in getting the whole tribe into the Blackwall train by ten, whence we debouched ... into three cabs which went in procession through miles of astonishing streets trimmed as we got out of the city with trees and shrubs and decked in their spring leaves to the great astonishment and delight of Louey and the little ones.¹²

The relief of arrival was to be short-lived as, soon after, Ralph came down with scarlet fever and Mrs Lassetter sent off her own children to lodgings at Blackheath to escape infection. ‘Feel ourselves like cuckoos having taken possession of other birds’ nests,’ Henry wrote in his journal.¹³ However, they soon managed to obtain a house for themselves at 1 New West End, Finchley Road, Hampstead,¹⁴ where all the children were eventually settled. Things improved rapidly. None of the other children caught the disease and as the damp of April gave way to the warmth of May, they could all relax and enjoy finally being established in their own home. Henry, forever restless, frequently disappeared:

Henry now went off to revisit the people and the places he had known in his unencumbered youth. It is apparent that these returns meant far more to him than a mere renewal of connections; and his daughter May, when allowed to go along a few years later, would sense their almost religious nature and herself acquire a taste for ‘pilgrimages’ that would stay with her all her life.¹⁵

Henry also passed on his passion for gardens to his daughter and lost no time that spring in visiting the many parks and gardens he found in London.

Louey Beauchamp, on the other hand, at first suffered from what appears to be depression. She was frequently incapacitated but:

Louey took to her bed less often when life became more amusing. This soon happened, for inevitably her charm, childlike gaiety and natural kindness attracted young and old alike. Admirers flocked around, parties were given to divert her. When these palled there were visits to the country, social or exploratory. For those were the days when parents perpetually went off, and children almost always stayed behind in the care of others.¹⁶

Louey only rarely accompanied her husband on his expeditions. When they did both go away, their return was marked by visits to the zoo, or a museum, or the Houses of Parliament. In Mary’s mock-autobiography, All the Dogs of My Life, written over sixty years later, she says of her father:

He wasn’t a man who ought ever to have had any children, except grown-up ones. The cries of babies maddened him. He disliked little girls, who bounced in from the garden without wiping their shoes.¹⁷

He also resented the expenses incurred in their upbringing. However, she acknowledges a great respect for her father and a love which grew stronger over the years. Time would bring them close, especially as Mary began to share many of his interests, including taking rambles in the country, travel and gardening.

As for her mother, she describes her at this time as ‘a happy, adorable little creature, she went singing through the years, always crowded round by friends and admirers’.¹⁸ And, it would appear, never was she happier than when her husband was away from home.

The lease of the house in Finchley Road was soon to expire and Henry was growing restless again. He had come to Europe and after his many years in Australia, wanted to see something of the Continent. He believed that this was an opportunity for the family to experience different cultures, believing that travel would be as much an education for his boys as it had been for him. He had already decided that a public school education would be superfluous to their requirements for the future he had planned for them, which was to become businessmen. This decision would help Mary, as home tuition for the boys meant that she would be exposed to a higher standard of education than was usually available to young girls at the time. Above all, Mary would have her first experience of life on continental Europe.

*****

Henry chose Lausanne in Switzerland as the new base for his family. The recently constructed rail links were good and the town was well-placed for his projects of further travel to Germany and France. An added advantage was that French was spoken. Louey was delighted at this stage to leave London behind and in May 1871 the family was once again on the move. On the morning of 18 May, together with the governess, Miss Miles, the family left Canon St Station by the 7.45am train to Dover.

In their haste to catch the train (nearly missed by Louey) they would have had no time to admire the impressive, recently built station building, which was opened on 1 September 1866, making it the same age as Mary. Designed by Sir John Hawkshaw and JW Barry, it served as the gateway to Europe; from here the South Eastern Railway took passengers to the Channel port of Dover.

Despite an unpleasant sea voyage to Ostend – a journey of several hours during which most of the family were sick – the four-day journey went well. One night en route was spent in Brussels and from there they travelled by rail via Basel to Lausanne. Here, they were soon installed in a large, old chalet in the area of Crêt de Montriond. This is now the site of a botanical garden and is still one of most beautiful locations in Lausanne.

For the five-year-old Mary, Switzerland in the magical month of May must have seemed like paradise after the gloom of London. The large old chalet was surrounded by fields full of wild flowers and the view from the balcony across the lake towards the French Alps was spectacular. On a clear day, the whole range of mountains appeared, their tops covered in snow throughout the year. This unforgettable experience of flowers and mountains fed her natural delight in nature. Some thirty years later, she embarked on another journey to find a site in Switzerland upon which she would build her own chalet.

However, for the rest of the family there were problems. Not long after their arrival, the Beauchamps had been joined by the entire Lassetter family, and somehow all of the children had to continue their education. It soon became apparent that the combination of the Beauchamps plus the Lassetters was too much for the devoted Miss Miles to control. Ralph and Sydney, the oldest boys, were the chief culprits in insubordination and were therefore enrolled in a nearby day school, the Ecole Industrielle Nationale. The site of this private school on the shores of Lake Geneva has now greatly expanded to become the prestigious Ecole Polytechnique Fédérale de Lausanne.

Ralph and Sydney, aged fifteen and eleven, were unused to schooling of any kind and for them the culture shock proved too great. The school was run on lines of strict discipline and much learning by rote, all in French. Ralph’s reaction was to go on hunger strike and Sydney’s health collapsed. The doctor diagnosed ‘brain fever’, and at one point it seemed doubtful if Sydney would live. At the time of this crisis, their father had returned to London to see to his business affairs. He too was ill, with rheumatic fever, and was being nursed by an old friend, Annie Powell. By the time he returned, Sydney had recovered.

In the meantime, the Lassetter family had moved away to a wonderful location further along the lake towards Geneva. Here, they rented a splendid eighteenth-century castle, the Château de Coppet, famous as having once been the residence of Mme de Staël. This left the two younger boys, Walter and Harry, as well as Charlotte and Mary, in the schoolroom. Mary’s education began at this point, but for much of the time her days were spent blissfully outside in the nearby fields of dandelions and daisies. These flowers were forever to be associated in her mind with freedom and happiness.

At this point the four adults, the Beauchamps and Lassetters, felt free enough to leave all the children behind while they set off on an extensive tour of Europe. They went to Italy, where they witnessed the eruption of Vesuvius, and then travelled on to France, back to England, Holland, Belgium and Germany. This lack of parental supervision had unforeseen consequences for Charlotte, Mary’s older sister. She was now a stunningly beautiful girl of fourteen, with red-gold hair reaching below her waist. In the tradition of Victorian young ladies, she had undoubtedly been sheltered from any knowledge of sexual relationships. Somehow, during this time, she became pregnant; the baby’s father was never actually named and the whole affair hushed up. A baby boy, born in March 1873, was never heard of again.¹⁹

In the meantime, Henry left on a world tour. He was away for almost a year, not returning until September 1873. Louey and the family breathed a sigh of relief at his absence. Mary recalls of those times:

My father was engaged in going round the world, – an activity which seemed to please him, for he did it twice within my childhood’s recollections; and the minute he was gone, relaxation set in. Queer how sprightly life became, how roomy, with what wide margins, when my father, in those years, wasn’t there.²⁰

After Henry’s return in the September of 1873, life went more smoothly until the February of 1874, when all the children and three of the Lassetters went down with measles. This prompted another of Henry’s absences when he left the family again and went off to spend time in France. However, by the August of 1874, even he had had enough of travel. The time had come to take the family back to London.

2

1874–1888: A Musical Education in London

The family returned to London and on 1 September¹ took a house in Southgate, Acton, called Mayfield Lodge. The Lassetter family was, as usual, living nearby. Sydney, Harry and Walter were now to benefit from a more formal education at University College School.² The boys would mercilessly tease their younger sibling and it is hardly surprising that Mary was later known for her penchant for teasing the men in her life; her wit and talent for mocking often made her a difficult companion, but in her youth these were her chief weapons of defence.

Charlotte and Mary (now aged eight) went to Blythwood House. This school offered the girls a broad curriculum; as well as studying Latin, French, German and Italian, lectures were available in natural philosophy, geology and botany. At last she would be able to cultivate her natural intelligence and, feeling apart from her family, she retreated to a world of books. She also benefited from the strong bias towards music available in the school. She was continuing with her piano lessons and was also learning the violin. The advantage of having perfect pitch helped her develop her exceptional musical talent.

Mary found that there were advantages in her gift for music. This was a family who enjoyed making music together, and her proficient piano playing made her in demand for accompanying her brothers while they played or sang. These family occasions brought her especially close to Sydney and Harry, and she soon felt the power of her talents. This confidence gave her the chance to have some influence over the future careers of her brothers. She also began to dream of a musical career for herself.

Henry Beauchamp, having progressed through his successful business career with the minimum of formal education, did not believe in sending his sons to university. Subsequently, Ralph was inducted into the office of a company of tea brokers, Shepherd & Co, in 1875 (he was eighteen years old). He was never happy there and left to join his father in the city before becoming a junior partner in the firm of F.A. Edelston & Co. However, his interest in music eventually led him to spend his later years working at the Royal College of Music.³

When he was just seventeen, Sydney was bound as an apprentice for seven years to Waterlow & Sons, and Walter, aged eighteen, was sent to work with the Colonial Wool brokers. However, with the encouragement of his younger sister, Sydney soon decided to break free from his apprenticeship. He left Waterlow & Sons after a year, demanding further education so that he could become a doctor. He went to study at Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge and despite failing his preliminary examinations several times, succeeded in graduating in 1887. He continued his training at St Bartholomew’s hospital where he specialised in obstetrics, and completed his MA in 1896. This dedication and perseverance led to an outstanding career in medicine, for which he was eventually knighted, becoming Sir Sydney Beauchamp. Despite being separated geographically for long periods, Mary and Sydney remained devoted to each other.

Charlotte, now blossoming at the age of eighteen, was presented at court and soon became engaged to George Waterlow, son of Sir Sydney Waterlow, head of the firm of Waterlow & Sons.⁴ This was a most advantageous match; it would be a great relief to Louey to have her beautiful oldest daughter so well and happily (so she believed) settled.

It was around this time that Henry departed for his second tour around the world. On this occasion, when the recently married Charlotte offered Mary a dog (possibly to compensate her for the lack of female companionship she might now be suffering), Mary took advantage of her father’s absence and accepted it before asking her mother’s permission. Her mother, ‘always very sweetly indulgent and easy-going, being so pretty and so much beloved, laughed and kissed me, and said, ‘‘Very well darling,’’ ... For she knew my father was receding and wasn’t going to turn his face homewards for at least another six months.’⁵ She called this little dog Bildad. When asked why, she replied that it was because he was the height of a shoe and gave the reference: the Book of Job, second chapter, eleventh verse.⁶ Bildad was a Pomeranian; Pomerania was to have far greater significance in Mary’s life than this small dog. Bildad was a distraction to Mary’s education, for when left unattended by her tutor (who set her work and retired to her room) Mary and dog would escape:

Out through the window – appropriately French – he and I burst the instant we heard the bedroom door shutting, fleeing from pianos, fleeing from verbs and declensions, and rollicked recklessly together on the grass. I knew Mademoiselle wouldn’t come down again till the gong went; I set aside the last twenty minutes for study, arranging to do the finger-exercises at the very end, so that she should find me at the piano, my pigtails vibrating with diligence; and meanwhile we had plenty of time for larks.⁷

But the dreaded day of her father’s return brought more than a row about his wife Louey’s extravagance during his time away. And he was furious about the dog:

Trembling I stood, not daring to say a word, for he was the sort of father, frequent in those days, who is never answered back.⁸

Bildad was removed, never to be seen again. Nevertheless, it seems that there was a deep bond between Henry Beauchamp and his bright younger daughter. They often went out together, sometimes going to hear the organ being played in Westminster Abbey, and once going to a chrysanthemum show. Mary says:

I owed my father no grudge ... when I grew up, and began to understand him better, and by marrying and going away relieved him of the responsibility that chafed his irritable and conscientious soul, fear of him went, and love took its place. From reference and fear, I proceeded to reverence and love.⁹

In addition to music, Mary and her father had many interests in common, including Mary’s growing love of gardening. She recalls that because he loved his garden he never minded her running up bills for bulbs. Like Elizabeth Bennet in Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, Mary’s quick intelligence provided her intellectual father with a companionship which perhaps compensated for the otherwise more shallow feminine minds he encountered in the rest of his family.

They also shared many expeditions. She would accompany her father on his visits to his aging aunts, sitting quietly and absorbing their conversations, conversations which were probably rather more interesting than anything she heard at home. Mary’s mother Louey liked drawing-room gossip; while she entertained in her drawing-room, Henry would withdraw to his study to read. His love of literature and the arts were another bond between him and Mary.

Despite the impression given in the anecdote about Bildad, implying that she was easily distracted, Mary was making the most of her talent for music. In addition to learning the piano and violin, and perhaps encouraged by her visits with her father to Westminster Abbey, she was also learning to play the organ. If she read The Girls’ Own Paper, she would have found further encouragement. This periodical reflected many of Mary’s tastes, as it included articles on nature and gardening; it also published serialised stories from well-known authors of the day, as well as stories which featured lady organists as heroines. These heroines were by no means rebels in society, but nevertheless they were shown to be able to earn a living rather than accepting charity. For a young girl with a lively mind and an independent spirit, this magazine would have offered an invaluable source of information on current ideas. Mary must have felt that the organ, a very large and powerful instrument, compensated in many ways for her petite stature. It is not known when she adopted her motto ‘Parva sed Apta’ (small but effective), but her ability on this instrument definitely gave her personality a voice and powerful means of expression.

For her organ tuition, Mary was fortunate to have found an outstanding teacher, Sir Walter Parratt, who was the organist at St George’s Chapel, Windsor. She was taught there by Parratt for a number of years, continuing under his tuition when she attended the Royal College of Music. A litany of distinguished names of Parratt’s ‘representative pupils’ is shown on the Royal College of Music Union’s website.¹⁰ Among them the names of only two female students appear; one, a ‘Miss Beauchamp’, features alongside many future heads of music in famous English public schools, as well as Herbert Howells, Leopold Stokowski and Ralph Vaughan Williams.

Sir Walter Parratt was a remarkable man and teacher. He was a founding member of the Royal College of Music when it opened in London under the direction of Sir George Grove in 1883, teaching there from 1883 to 1923. He later became Master of the Queen’s Music (subsequently the King’s Music) from 1893 to 1924. In his obituary of Parratt, Harold Darke wrote, ‘He taught his pupils to think for themselves.’¹¹ Emphasising in this obituary that Parratt was a man of wide interests, Darke mentions how he expected his pupils to be more than mere organists. He was a man of letters, with interests ranging from architecture to playing chess.

Mary’s real education began with her lessons from this influential and charismatic man. At this vital stage in her development he inspired her imagination and intellect; this exceptional education was to stand her in good stead when she later turned her mind to writing.

Parratt’s influence also changed the life of the youngest of the Beauchamp brothers, Henry. Henry (known as Harry) had been working on a farm and was thinking of emigrating to Australia to join his brother, Walter. A good amateur cellist who enjoyed the family musical evenings, he also sang. Mary acted as his accompanist on these occasions and recognising that his voice was exceptional, she decided to take him for an audition with Sir Walter Parratt. Parratt was sufficiently impressed to send him to Sir George Grove. Grove decided that Henry would benefit from professional lessons and sent him for tuition with a well-known Italian opera singer, Signor Visetti. It was then decided that Harry should stay in London and develop his musical career instead of emigrating, a decision which would mark the beginning of his career as a professional musician. Later, he was to become a professor of music and conductor of the choir at the Royal Academy of Music.

Music and beauty were becoming very important to the young Mary and she loved going to her local church, All Saints in Acton, where she could experience both. In her old age she often returned to this place to reflect on this early awakening of her spiritual life. Throughout her life this would be nourished by her love of cathedral buildings, the poetry of the Bible and the music associated with church worship. Perhaps, also, in her youth, her enthusiasm for religion was fuelled by love of a different nature; she recalls that she fell in love at the age of fifteen with the young parish organist. Music and religion were a powerful combination.

At the age of sixteen, Mary was sent to another school, Queen’s College, a national school situated in Horn Lane, Acton. This would not have been far from the Beauchamp’s home, which was now in East Lodge, Uxbridge Road, Acton. At her new school Mary was fortunate again; the head teacher, Miss Summerhayes, was an inspiring teacher who took a special interest in her bright young pupil. A fellow pupil, Miss Celena Joscelyne, remembers Mary as ‘a very small person with long fair hair tied at the nape of her neck with a ribbon. She had blue eyes and a brilliant colour.’¹²

This pupil also remembers that Mary distinguished herself in an essay she had written on the subject of flowers for the Senior Certificate public examination in 1883. She was especially commended by the examiner for this essay; the subject matter was one which would remain dear to Mary’s heart throughout her life. She achieved further distinction in these examinations and her father records that she was ‘glorified by coming out first in a history examination against all the Ealing schools’.¹³

Encouraged by Miss Summerhayes, she had set her heart on taking the Cambridge University entrance examination in the November of 1883, but fate intervened; unusually, she found herself beset by illness at this time and was unable to sit the examination. This came as a bitter disappointment; career opportunities for a Victorian girl would have been very limited. Indeed, the only expectation for the younger daughter was to hope for a good marriage or to stay at home and care for her parents in their old age.

Mary left Queen’s College in the Christmas of 1884. She did not, however, submit to the conventional life of a Victorian young lady. Instead, she entered the Royal College of Music as a student on 4 May 1885 (at this time, the academic year started with the summer term); her principal study was the organ. This was a positive first step on the way for Mary to become a professional musician, especially as she would be able to continue her studies there with Sir Walter Parratt.

Playing the organ to this standard would have been most unusual for a woman, even as late as the 1880s. To be seen playing the organ in church had at the time only recently become socially acceptable for ladies, and discrimination against female applicants for the post of organist in church was still in practice well past 1880. ‘Ladies not eligible’ (quotation from an advertisement for a church organist in 1865) might aptly sum up the status of the majority of women who sought to enter the mainstream of professional musicians in nineteenth-century England.

Mary was challenging convention not only by playing the organ; in playing Bach fugues and aspiring to perform in public on the ‘king of instruments’, she was trespassing on male territory:

The location of the organ in the patriarchal world of the church secured its masculine association, as did its very size, shape and sound. Although varying in size, the organ’s console was augmented by an array of phallic pipes, some of which were of massive dimensions. Even the sound of the organ determined its gender ... For a woman to take command of this male instrument was grossly to overstep her musical boundaries.¹⁴

Although uncommon, female organ recitalists were becoming known and critics were beginning, rather reluctantly, to admit that women could play the organ as well as men. One critic conceded in the Musical Standard of 1880 ‘that good pedal playing is not out of the range of a well-taught lady’. Condescendingly, he then later stated, ‘On the other hand, the power and grandeur of a large organ would seem to be best handled by the sterner strength of the ‘‘lords of creation’’.’

It is hard for us now to appreciate the amount of social prejudice and controversy that surrounded any female musician attempting to perform in public in Victorian England. However, attitudes were changing, as the stories in The Girls’ Own Paper show. Mary was living at a time of transition, when determined women could seek fulfilment in life outside the domestic sphere. She would also have seen for herself that women could and did perform in public on the organ.

England’s female organists of the nineteenth century benefited from increasingly liberal social attitudes about women’s education, physical exercise and meaningful employment outside home.¹⁵

After completing one year at the Royal College, Mary left with Grade IV, class 3 on the organ and Grade 2 in harmony. The grading system was not the same as it is today, as they were numbered from I to V. Grade IV would therefore have been quite advanced.

A year later, in April 1887, at the age of twenty, she re-entered the college, having gained a council exhibition for one year, to help with the cost of tuition. At this time in the Royal College there was a total of just eight female students studying the organ and fourteen male students. Mary was the only female Exhibitioner. Gaining this award, which was granted by open competition to only six female and six male students among the whole entry to the College in 1887, shows considerable determination, ability and dedication on Mary’s part.

Her musical training at the Royal College was stimulating and disciplined. For her principal study, she had two lessons of one hour in a group of three. Her additional first study is recorded as being the viola, taken from January 1888. (She must have changed from studying