Following the rabbit's tracks to the lake district. Strange abominations of royalty (11 photos) Madam Beatrice from England 1913

Why do I have to become a Slave of Passion? Why doesn't Donal Rye refuse to just sell me to someone else as a servant? I don't want to give myself to men...
“For a servant, you are unacceptably beautiful,” replied Karim. - You know it yourself, Zeinab. And don’t lie - you’ll enjoy it. You must always be honest. Yes, it's true - I will teach you how to give yourself to a man. But not only this. I will also teach you how to make a man give himself to you both body and soul.
- But this is impossible! - she said. - No man will ever give himself to a woman! I will never believe this, my lord!
Karim laughed:
- But it’s true, dear Zeinab. Beautiful woman has great power even over the most strong man and can defeat him in a love battle!
“I’m frozen...” Regan muttered, shuddering. Karim rose from his bed and closed the wooden shutters.
Then, going to the chest and lifting the lid, he took out a thin woolen blanket and handed it to Regan:
- Under it and next to me you will soon warm up. Let’s lie down next to each other,” and without waiting for her answer, he prostrated himself on the bed and extended his hands to her.
- Do you want to sleep with me? - Regan’s eyes were again full of fear, but her voice sounded firm.
“This is our shared bedroom,” he explained calmly. - Get under the covers, Zeinab, because I told you that I won’t take you by force. I'm not lying to you.
...And before her eyes stood Ian Ferguson, shamelessly boasting to her of his manhood, Ian Ferguson, who mercilessly tormented her virgin flesh, satisfying his animal lust, trampling her soul... Gunnar Bloody Ax was little better, but, at least she didn't have to look at his distorted face while he raped her...
She looked at Karim al-Malika. He lay on his back with his eyes closed, but she felt that he was not sleeping. Can you trust him? Should she believe him?
With a trembling hand, she threw back the covers and slipped into the warmth... Immediately, a man's arms hugged her - Regan even jumped.
- What are you doing? - she asked in fear.
“This way you’ll warm up faster,” Karim said affectionately, “cuddle up to me.” But if you don't want to, well, I understand...
She felt the warmth of his hand on her shoulders. I felt his entire strong body... His presence for some reason had a calming effect.
- But don’t allow yourself anything more! - she nevertheless warned sternly.
- Just not today. - In the thickening darkness, she did not see his smile. - Good night, my dear Zeinab. Good night...
- Well? - Donal Rye asked in the morning. “Is Zeinab really worth the silver that I paid the Viking for her?”
- For all your time, old friend! - answered Karim al-Malika. - The girl became the victim of two rude and uncouth louts twice in a row. It takes time to gain her trust. But I will achieve this. I have never had a student like her. She is ignorant and yet wise beyond her years. But about love, and especially about passion, she has not the slightest idea. At least a year will pass before it can be presented to the caliph without shame. Or maybe even more... - Karim took a sip of hot wine, seasoned with spices, from a silver goblet trimmed with onyx. - Do you agree to give me such a period or, perhaps, would you prefer to put it up for sale at good market to Al-Andalus and get your money back? After all, you will need to spend money on her training...
- No! No! The girl is a real treasure. I realized this immediately, as soon as that lump Gunnar Bloodaxe brought her into my chambers! She had him wrapped around her finger like a child! Erda told me that Zeinab and Oma became friends on Gunnar's ship. Then Zeinab came up with the idea to tell the Viking that if she were offered to me along with the maid, I would be very impressed. Ha ha! She's smart as hell, Karim al-Malika! - Donal Rye became serious:
- How long will you stay in Dublin? And where will you go from here?
- The unloading of my ship has already been completed, Donal Rye. I think that in a week we will have time to fill the holds - then we will sail to Al-Malika. It's the middle of summer, but you can already feel the breath of autumn in the air. I want to quickly get out of the inhospitable northern seas. Moreover, I believe that Zainab's training will go wherever it is more successful if it is taken out of its usual environment.
Donal Rye nodded.
- You are wise. Where will she live?
- I have a villa in the suburbs of Al-Maliki. I'll put her there. All the girls I have ever taught have lived in this lovely place. Everything there awakens sensuality - affectionate, well-trained servants, luxury and languor in everything... Zeinab will stop being shy once she finds herself in “Paradise”.
- In Paradise"? - the owner was dumbfounded. Karim laughed:
“That’s what I named my lovely villa, my good friend.” The house is located near the sea, surrounded by gardens and fountains. There is peace and quiet there...
- And your father? - asked Donal Rye.
- He prefers city life, and gives me complete freedom. In a way, I lived up to his expectations. I'm in good relations with a family, independent and rich, and besides, I am respected. I disappointed him in only one thing: I have neither a wife nor heirs. But I leave this to my older brothers, Jafar and Ayyub. And yet my father is disappointed...
- And you can understand him, my boy. A man as passionate as you. Karim would probably only father sons. Besides younger son Habib-ibn-Malik is a wonderful match... - Donal Rai finished with a smile.
“I’m not yet ripe for marriage,” answered Karim. - I like my free life. Maybe if my experience with Zeinab is successful, I’ll take on a couple more students after her...
- Are there many concubines in your harem? - asked Donal Rye.
“I don’t have a harem at all,” answered Karim. “I’m too rarely at home, and women, left to their own devices, become restless and defenseless against temptation... They must constantly feel a man’s firm hand.” When I get married, then I’ll start a harem.
“Perhaps you’re right,” Donal Rai nodded. - You are wise beyond your years, Karim al-Malika!
“Allow Zeinab and Oma to walk in the garden, Donal Rai,” Karim asked. “We will be at sea for several weeks at a time, and they will be prisoners in the ship’s cabin.” I cannot give them freedom of movement on the ship: they will arouse lust in my sailors, and this is dangerous.
Donal Rye nodded in agreement.
- Yes, swimming will be difficult for girls. They are used to solid ground. And the journey from Stretchclyde to Dublin took only a couple of days, and land was almost always within sight.
“Now they will not see the earth for many days...” said Karim.
Erda announced to Regan and Morag that they could once again walk around the pretty garden of Donal Rye's house. Squealing with delight, they rushed down the steps - and again began to walk in the sun, bask on beautiful marble benches, chatting about the mysterious Al-Andalus, where they were soon to go...
Around noon, Allaeddin ben Omar appeared in the kindergarten and respectfully announced to Regan:
- Madam Zeinab, Karim al-Malika wishes to see you. “He’s waiting for you upstairs,” the black-bearded sailor bowed politely.
Rigam" thanked him and left the kindergarten. Allaeddin-ben-Omar smiled at Morag. Reaching out his hand, he gently pulled her pigtail - the girl giggled. Taking her hand, he began to walk with her around the kindergarten.
“You’re lovely,” he said.
“And you are a dashing suitor,” she answered. “Even though I grew up in a monastery, I recognize such scoundrels right away.”
He laughed kindly and tenderly, and Morag felt her heart melt...
- Yes, Oma, I really am a scoundrel, but a scoundrel with a good heart. And you have already kidnapped him, my precious. And you know - I don't want to get it back...
“You have honeyed speech, Allaeddin ben Omar,” the girl answered with an inviting smile, but immediately became embarrassed and bent down to smell the rose.
When she straightened up, the man was standing right in front of her.
- Do you know that your name Oma comes from male name Lobster? - His fingers touched the girl’s cheek.
Morag's eyes widened. Nervous, she took a step back. The touch was gentle and yet slightly shocked her. She looked into his black eyes, and her heart was beating wildly. He reached out to her again and this time he gently pulled her into his arms. Morag felt like she was about to faint. No, the shepherd's sons from the vicinity of the monastery never behaved so boldly with her... “0-o-o-oh!” - she exclaimed when his lips touched her mouth, but she did not resist, did not try to break away... She was wondering what would happen next, besides, with this giant she, the little one, felt safe.
From the window of his room, Karim al-Malik watched his friend courting the girl. He had never seen Allaeddin so gentle, so patient and affectionate with a woman. For some reason, Karim decided that this time his friend was too emotional. Allaeddin's gentle gaze, fixed on Oma's lovely face, served as a harbinger of something much more than a passing hobby...
Hearing the sound of the door opening. Karim turned away from the window. A smile lit up his face:
- Zeinab! Did you sleep well?
“Okay,” she admitted. Yes, she really hadn’t felt as fresh and rested for a long time as she did this morning, when she woke up and didn’t find him nearby. She smiled slightly.
- Shall we continue our studies? - he suggested. - Undress, my beauty. Today we will begin to comprehend the Science of Touch. Our sensitive skin means a lot in the art of love, Zeinab. It is very important to learn how to caress her correctly. You must learn to touch yourself, as well as your master, in such a way as to awaken all other feelings.
Regan was slightly taken aback. He said it all very simply. There was nothing shameless in his voice. Slowly she took off her clothes. It was ridiculous to refuse - she already understood that. Last night he had made it clear to her that he expected immediate obedience from her. - Almost all morning she struggled with her torn shirt, trying to sew it up: it was not in her rules to throw things. But the delicate fabric was hopelessly damaged...
Now, pulling her shirt over her head, she cast a quick glance at him from under her thick golden eyelashes. He was wearing only white trousers, and in the daylight his body seemed unusually beautiful. Regan suddenly blushed. Come on, how can a man be handsome?
He watched impassively as she undressed. She was perfection itself, but nevertheless he was clearly aware that he would need all his skill to teach this creature the art of love. And all self-control... The first commandment of the students of the Samarkand School of Passion was: “Do not let the student touch your heart.” Before you begin to train a woman, you must completely subjugate her, but very gently, and not at all roughly. The teacher was required to have patience, kindness and firmness, but his heart must remain cold.
- Mister... - now she was completely naked.
He looked at her carefully again.
“You can make love at any time of the day or night,” he began. - Although some, suffering from excessive modesty, believe that passion can only be released in the dark. So, precisely because you are afraid, I decided that if we teach lessons in the light of day and you can clearly see what is happening, you will be more likely to get rid of empty fears. You understand me?
Regan nodded.
“That’s good,” he said. “But before we get into the science of touch, you must accept the new name given to you.” Now you can no longer bear a foreign name.
- But if you deprive me of the name given to me at birth, you will deprive me of myself! - Regan's eyes were full of despair. - I don’t want to disappear, my lord!
“But you are much more than just a name,” he said calmly. - And it’s not your name that makes you what you are, Zeinab. You will never return to your homeland again. Memories will remain with you forever, but you cannot live with them alone. You must break with the past and reject the previous name given to you by your mother at birth. The new name means new life, and much better than the previous one. Now tell me what your name is, my beauty. Say: “My name is Zainab.” Tell!
For a moment, her aquamarine eyes filled with tears that seemed about to flow down her cheeks. Her lips pursed stubbornly... But suddenly she swallowed hard and said: “My name is Zeinab. It means “most beautiful.”
- Again! - Karim encouraged her.
- I'm Zeinab! - her voice grew stronger.
- Fine! - he condescended to praise, not remaining indifferent to her difficult internal struggle and victory over herself. He fully understood how difficult it was for her to break with the past, but he was satisfied that she finally understood: only by entrusting herself to him would she be able to survive in a new world for her.
“Now come to me,” he ordered. - Remember that I will not force you to do anything, but now I will touch you. There is no need to be afraid of me, Zainab. You understood?
- Yes my Lord.
No, she will not be afraid, and if she is afraid, he will not see it either in her face or in her eyes... “I am Zeinab,” she thought, getting used to everything new that came into her life with this name . - I am a creature created for the caress and delight of a man. All future life mine depends on what this person teaches me. I don't want a monster like Ian Ferguson for a husband. And I have no desire to spend the rest of my days in the monastery, praying to the Lord, about whom I know almost nothing... I am Zeinab - “the most beautiful one...” With an effort of will, she overcame the trembling that gripped her body when Karim hugged her and pulled her to to yourself.
...He felt that she had suppressed her disgust and was satisfied. Then, taking her by the chin, he lifted the girl’s head and began to gently stroke back side hands her cheekbones and jaw. He ran his finger along her straight nose, then began to caress her lips until they parted. When he smiled, looking straight into her eyes, Regan... no, Zeinab already felt that she was short of breath.
- Did you feel the force of the touch? - he asked casually.
“Yes,” she nodded. - This powerful weapon, my Lord.
“Only if you know how to use it,” he corrected. - Well, let's continue. - He slightly turned Zeinab’s head to the side and with his lips found a tender spot just under the earlobe; “You can touch not only with your hands, but also with your lips,” he explained, “and with your tongue.” - He ran his tongue with a powerful movement along her neck, fragrant with gardenia.
Zainab trembled against her will.
“You're starting to get excited,” Karim said.
- Is it true? - but she didn’t quite understand him.
- Why did you suddenly tremble? - he asked.
“I.., I don’t know...” she answered honestly.
“Look at your nipples,” Karim ordered. She was amazed at how small and hard they had become, like flower buds caught in frost.
- How did you feel when my mouth touched your body?
“It’s... tingling, probably...” Zainab answered, stuttering.
- But where exactly? - blue eyes intently
/>End of introductory fragment
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Still from the film " The World History» Mel Brooks.

In the era of great monarchies royal families were a model of dignity and good behavior for their subjects. But in fact, the realities were very different from the ideal image that was created by the masses. Sometimes monarchs had very strange, not to say disgusting, sins that were not at all consistent with their status.

1. “Toilet groom”

Royal Abomination: "Royal Ass Wiper."

Henry VIII
In addition to his numerous reforms, the English king Henry VIII introduced an interesting position at court - “toilet groom”. The boy, who was chosen among the sons of the most trusted nobles, was given a job directly under the king. He followed the monarch everywhere with a portable toilet and, when Henry wanted to relieve himself, he helped the king undress, and then wiped the monarch’s butt. This was actually a very respected job, because the toilet groom received access to the king unprecedented among other people. A similar position existed for almost 400 years.

2. Public self-pleasure

Royal abomination: public masturbation.

Christian VII
In the 18th century, King Christian VII of Denmark was very fond of satisfying himself... with his hand. He spent so much time on this that the Danish government organized repeated meetings to discuss how to get rid of the king's habit. The doctors who observed the king were convinced that the cause of all of Christian's problems was chronic masturbation. Christian VII was also mentally ill and suffered from porphyria (indeed, mental illness was likely the cause of his problems with uncontrollable masturbation). His personal doctor Struensee wrote an entire book about “Christian’s masturbatory madness.” When Struensee couldn't get the king to pull up his trousers and start running the country, he took over himself. most decisions instead of Christian VII.

3. Love after death

Royal abomination: living with your husband's corpse.

Juana I the Mad
Juana I, mother Spanish king Charles V, held best years his life married to a man known as Philip the Handsome. Apparently, Philip had earned his nickname for a reason, since Juana refused to allow him to be buried when he died. Instead, Juan kept her husband's corpse in his bedroom. For 12 months, while Philip's body slowly decomposed, Juana continued to act as if he were alive. Whenever someone asked her about Philip, Juana insisted that her husband was sleeping and would wake up soon. She slept with the dead body at night and forced the servants to treat the corpse with royal honors.

4. Wig made from lovers' pubic hair

Royal Abomination: Make a wig from your lovers' pubic hair.

Charles II
In 1651, King Charles II acquired a new hobby. Every time he slept with a woman, he would pull out a few of her pubic hairs. He then joined this hair together, gradually creating a wig from it, which eventually turned into a huge thick mane. When the wig was large enough to completely cover a man's head, Charles II donated it to a Scottish drinking club called Beggar's Benison. The club members liked the wig so much that they began wearing it during their ceremonies.

5. Heart of a husband

Maria Eleonora of Brandenburg is the queen who slept with her husband's heart.

Maria Eleonora of Brandenburg
Queen Maria Eleanor did not love her husband, King Gustavus Adolphus, because of his power or his money. She was conquered by the heart of Gustav Adolf. When the king died, she tore his heart out of his chest so that she could sleep with him. Maria Eleonora kept her dead husband's heart in a golden box that she placed next to her bed every night. For some nights, she even forced her daughter to sleep in bed with her so that she could be closer to her father's heart. This led to the fact that the daughter was left with psychological trauma for life.

6. Owner of the world's largest porn collection

Royal Abomination: Having the world's largest porn collection.

Farouk
Legend has it that the Egyptian King Farouk owned the largest collection of pornography in the world. He boasted that he had "warehouses filled with strawberries" all over the world, from Rome and Monaco to Cairo. Writer and former pimp Scott Bowers claims he convinced Farooq to send several boxes of porn to famed sex therapist Kinsey. According to Bowers, these boxes almost exclusively contained images of Arab men with little boys. When Farouk's empire fell, his porn collection was looted.

7. Deadly gluttony

Royal abomination: eat yourself to death.

Adolf Fredrik
Swedish King Adolf Fredrik used to eat a dessert called semla, which is a sweet roll with cream. And one day he ate so much of this dessert that he died. In 1771, the Swedish king dined on lobster, caviar and other delicacies. After lunch, he asked for semlas and ate them... as many as 14 pieces. It is not surprising that his stomach ached, and soon the king died. Also included in history is the English king Henry I, who died from eating too much eel.

8. Strange hygiene

Royal Abomination: Wash only your fingertips.

James I
According to the records of Sir Anthony Weldon, King James I was not the most hygienic man. Legend has it that the king never bathed, and according to Weldon, James I had “a tongue too big for his mouth.” Whenever the king drank, the liquid would drip onto one side of the king's chin. Moreover, Yakov never washed his hands, but only lightly wiped his fingertips with the edge of a damp napkin. This was apparently the only type of hygiene the king ever practiced.

9. Royal oddities

Royal Abomination: Don't change your clothes for five months.

Charles VI
French King Charles VI was mentally ill. He regularly had seizures, during which he rushed wildly around the house. On other days, the king felt as if he was made of glass and could not move a single muscle. And one day, for five long months, he never bathed or changed his clothes. For almost six months, the king simply tried to avoid contact with people until he had a moment of enlightenment.

10. Throne toilet

Royal abomination: relieving yourself on the throne.

Louis XIV
Of all the people in history, the French King Louis XIV was most likely the smelliest. He used his throne as a toilet, even during court meetings. It is not difficult to imagine the smell in the room. Moreover, it came not only from the throne - the king bathed only three times in his entire life. He tried to mask the stench by filling his rooms with flowers and dousing himself in perfume.

Here's what you can glean from the encyclopedic dictionary...
Beatrice Hastings(12 May 1879, London - 30 October 1943, Worthing, West Sussex) - English poet and literary critic, one of Amedeo Modigliani's muses, who lived with him in the same apartment in Montparnasse... and was the model for several of his paintings.

They met in June 1914. The talented and eccentric Englishwoman Beatrice, five years older than Amedeo, had already tried herself in the field of a circus performer, journalist, poetess, traveler, art critic, and there were many more attempts to “search for herself.” Anna Akhmatova would later write about her : "Another rope dancer..."
They immediately became inseparable. Modigliani came to live with her.


So, in order...
Beatrice Hastings (born Beatrice Hastings, real name Emily Alice Haigh) was born on May 12, 1879 in London.
She was married but divorced her husband, became interested in mysticism, published several rather vitriolic critical articles, and then began to write poetry herself. Much of her work before the outbreak of the First World War was published in the British literary magazine New Age. under various pseudonyms, she was in a close relationship with the editor of the magazine R. Orage. She was a friend of Katherine Mansfield, whose work was first published in The New Age. After some time, she moved to Paris and became a famous character in the bohemian circles of Paris thanks to her friendship with Max Jacob (writer), who introduced them to Amedeo.
There were rumors that Beatrice was madly in love with Amedeo, trying to save him from drunkenness and poverty... It was also rumored that Beatrice drank much more than the artist himself...

One way or another, Beatrice at that time served as the artist’s main source of inspiration.
Modigliani's romance with Beatrice was a typical bohemian romance - with immoderate libations, endless conversations about art, scandals and fights, crazy love. Quarreling every day and even using their fists, they nevertheless lived for 2 years.

There were rumors that Modigliani once threw Beatrice out of the window.
Another time, he himself told his friend, the sculptor Jacques Lipchitz, that Beatrice beat him with a rag, and admitted that during the next brawl, Beatrice grabbed his genitals with her hands and teeth as if she wanted to tear them off.
Sometimes, when Amedeo was overcome by anxiety, anger, horror, Beatrice told him: “Modigliani, do not forget that you are a gentleman, your mother is a lady of high society.” These words acted on him like a spell, and he fell silent and calmed down.

In the Hastings archive, among the scattered records, the following was found:
“One day we had a whole battle, we chased each other around the house, up and down the stairs, and his weapon was flower pot, and mine is a long broom."
The description of this and other similar scenes usually ended with the words: “How happy I was then in this hut in Montmartre!..”
When he was furious, usually because she was paying attention to another man, he would drag her down the street by her hair

During the heyday of their love, he created some of the most significant works: portraits of Diego Rivera, Jean Cocteau, Leo Bakst, and, of course, portraits of Beatrice herself. It was during the war years and the affair with Beatrice that Modigliani managed to achieve some success.

In 1914, Paul Guillaume began buying the artist’s works. In 1916, this “art dealer” was replaced by a native of Poland, Leopold Zborowski.
For the first time with her, Modigliani felt that “sensuality in painting is as necessary as a brush and paints; without it, portraits turn out sluggish and lifeless.”

A. Modigliani Portrait of Beatrice Hastings against the background of doors

She wrote about her attitude towards Modigliani’s work in the New Age magazine in 1915: “I have a stone head by Modigliani, which I would not be willing to part with for a hundred pounds, despite the current general financial crisis... This head with a calm smile embodies wisdom and madness, deep mercy and light sensitivity, numbness and voluptuousness, illusions and disappointment, locking it all in itself as an object of eternal reflection. This stone is read as clearly as Ecclesiastes, only its language is consoling, because no gloomy hopelessness in this bright smile of wise balance, alien to any threat."

Beatrice ran away from Modigliani in 1916. Since then they have not seen each other again.

Where she was hiding, it was dark and a little scary, but the little girl tried to obey the mistress, who strictly forbade her to leave the shelter. Until it is safe, she must sit quietly, like a mouse in a closet. The girl thought it was a game like hide and seek, lapta or potato.

She sat behind wooden barrels, listened to the sounds coming from her and mentally painted a picture of what was happening. Her father once taught her this. The men around shouted loudly to each other. The girl thought that these rude voices, filled with sea and salt, belong to sailors. In the distance one could hear the booming ship whistles, piercing ship whistles and the splash of oars, and in the heights, spreading wings and absorbing the spilling sunlight, the gray gulls were chattering.

The lady promised to return soon, and the girl was really looking forward to it. She hid for so long that the sun moved across the sky and warmed her knees, penetrating through her new dress. The girl listened to see if the mistress’s skirts were rustling on the wooden deck. Usually her heels clicked loudly and were always in a hurry to get somewhere, not at all like her mother’s. The girl remembered her mother, absentmindedly, fleetingly, as befits a child who is dearly loved. When will she come? Then thoughts returned to the mistress. She knew her before, and her grandmother talked about her, calling her the Writer. The writer lived in a small house on the outskirts of the estate, behind a thorny labyrinth. But the girl was not supposed to know about this. Her mother and grandmother forbade her to play in the maze and go near the cliff. It was dangerous. Still, sometimes, when no one was looking after her, the girl liked to break taboos.

A ray of sunlight appeared between two barrels, and hundreds of dust particles danced in it. The girl extended her finger, trying to catch at least one. The writer, the cliff, the labyrinth and her mother instantly left her thoughts. She laughed as she watched the motes fly close before flying away.

Suddenly the sounds around changed, the steps quickened, the voices rang with excitement. The girl bent down, caught in the curtain of light, pressed her cheek against the cool wood of the barrels and looked through the boards with one eye.

She saw someone's legs, shoes, hems of petticoats, tails of multi-colored paper ribbons fluttering in the wind. Cunning seagulls scoured the deck in search of crumbs.

The huge ship tilted and roared low, as if from the depths of its belly. The girl held her breath and pressed her palms to the floor. A wave of vibrations swept along the deck boards, reaching her fingertips. A moment of uncertainty - and the ship strained to move away from the pier. A farewell whistle sounded and a wave of joyful cries and “Bon voyage” wishes swept through. They went to America, to New York, where her dad was born. The girl often heard adults whispering about leaving. Mom convinced dad that there was nothing more to wait and he needed to leave as soon as possible.

The girl laughed again: the ship cut through the water, like the giant whale Moby Dick from the story that her father often read. Mom didn't like such fairy tales. She considered them too scary and said that there should be no place for such thoughts in her daughter’s head. Dad invariably kissed mom on the forehead, agreed with her and promised to be more careful in the future, but continued to read to the girl about a huge whale. There were other favorite stories from the book of fairy tales. They talked about orphans and blind old women, about long journeys across the sea. Dad asked just not to tell mom. The girl herself understood that these readings needed to be kept secret. Mom already felt unwell; she fell ill even before her daughter was born. The grandmother often reminded the girl that she needed to behave well, since her mother should not be upset. Something terrible can happen to mom, and only the girl will be to blame for it all. The girl firmly kept the secret fairy tales, games at the maze and the fact that dad took her to visit the Writer. She loved her mother and did not want to upset her.

Someone moved the barrel to the side, and the girl closed her eyes from sun rays. She blinked until the owner of the voice blocked out the light. He was a big boy, eight or nine years old.

“You’re not Sally,” he concluded, looking at her.

The girl shook her head negatively.

According to the rules of the game, she should not reveal her name to strangers.

He wrinkled his nose and the freckles on his face bunched together.

And why is that?

The girl shrugged. It was also impossible to talk about the Writer.

Where is Sally then? - The boy began to lose patience. He looked around. - She ran here, I'm sure.

Suddenly laughter rang across the deck, rustling noises and quick footsteps were heard. The boy's face brightened.

Quicker! Otherwise he’ll get away!

The girl stuck her head out from behind the barrel. She watched the boy dive through the crowd, caught up in the swirl of white petticoats.

Even her toes itched, she wanted to play with them so much.

But the Writer told me to wait.

Hello. Today I want to tell you about an incredible woman named Beatrix Potter (Helen Beatrix Potter)- famous children's writer and artist.

She was born on July 28, 1866 in England.
She is known to everyone as a talented author of children's fairy tales and an artist - she illustrated all her books herself). The main characters of her stories were always animals, and this is not strange, becauseBeatrice loved animals very much and studied them all her life. When she was little, in her nursery there lived frogs, mice, a hedgehog, a newt, Isaac Newton, and even bat. Beatrice watched them and drew. And her drawings became better and better. By the time she began to depict her heroes dressed in dresses, frock coats and caftans, the animals in the pictures seemed to come to life. Beatrice had two pet rabbits, to whom she devoted many illustrations. One of them, Peter Pusch (Peter Rabbit), she was led on a leash and took with her everywhere, even on the train. She dressed him in a blue jacket and wrote her first fairy tale about him with her own illustrations - the most famous in the whole world.

Beatrix Potter's journey as a writer and artist began in 1902year when the publisher Frederick Warne published The Tale of Peter Rabbit " - The Tale of Peter Rabbit. Previously, several publishers refused the small book. Up to 1910Beatrice wrote, drew and published an average of two books a year.

The fees gave her some independence, although she still lived with her parents. IN 1905year, Beatrice's publisher Norman Warne proposed to her. Beatrice agreed to marry, but a few weeks later Warne died of blood cancer . That same year she purchased Hill Top Farm in the village of Soray. After Norman's death, she tried to spend as much time there as possible. Types of farm and surrounding nature began to appear in the form of illustrations for her books. IN 1913year, at the age of forty-seven, Beatrice married the notary William Heelis and began to live permanently in the village of Sorey.

In 2006, the film “Miss Potter” of the same name was released, where the role of Beatrice was played by actress Renee Zellweger. This is a very touching and heartfelt film about the life of Beatrice. About how difficult it is for a talented woman of her time to become independent and successful.