A Lady of England: The Life and Letters of Charlotte Maria Tucker. Agnes Giberne
4thly, We are engaged to take tea with Mrs. Edgecombe on that day. 5thly, For Fanny to start off by coach and me to follow by fly, would appear to me both an extravagant and extraordinary procedure. So, after all these reasons, I thought that we had better fix on Saturday for the day of our departure, until I heard that Aunt must come up to Town on Monday. She offered to take us up with her, but as it would of course be more agreeable to her to come with us, I think that we shall find ourselves in dear old Portland Place on Monday morning.
‘I am so much obliged to dearest Mamma for her kind intention of taking me to Thalberg’s splendid Concert on Monday. It would really give me more pleasure if I might present my ticket to dear Fanny Lanzun, who has been all kindness and attention to us. You know how we wished that one of our family might hear Jenny Lind. Now I can hear through your ears; and none of the Lanzuns have had that treat, you know.’
TO MISS D. L. TUCKER.
‘Oct. 13, 1848.
‘Many thanks for your last sweet note to me, and kind consent to fill my place. … I do hope that you may not find teaching the wearisome task which I sometimes do. Perhaps Aunt Laura may succeed better in fixing the attention of her little pupils. At all events, I am grateful to you for undertaking the trouble. You are dear to a sister’s heart, sweet Laura, and I hope that you are one of the blessings for which I am not unthankful. …
‘I had two delightful games of chess yesterday with my dear Father. … What an awful state Vienna is in! Is not the murder of Count Latour dreadful?’
TO THE SAME.
‘Oct. 10, 1849.
‘Another sweet note from my darling Laura. I am rich in letters to-day, for I have received three such nice ones.
‘Yesterday evening I spent about an hour at the piano. I did not, however, sing any of your especial songs. I began one day—‘The world is so bright’—but my heart and voice failed, because you were away. However, I daresay that I shall try again this evening. How it would cut up my music, were you to go to any great distance, for most of my favourite songs are yours. How I have enjoyed hearing you sing them. … Farewell, sweet Laura. I must go and hear my children their lessons. I hear their little feet and voices above me.’
CHAPTER VI
A.D. 1847–1850
GRAVITY AND FUN
Though verging now on her thirtieth year, Charlotte Tucker was still unknown to the public as an Author. If the initials A. L. O. E. existed in her mind as a future possibility, they had at least not yet appeared upon any printed page.
From time to time, however, her pen was busy; still in the old line of comic or tragic plays, for home amusement. In 1847 she wrote The Castle of Sternalt; a Tragedy in Two Acts; belonging to the Cavalier and Roundhead period of England’s history. In that same year she also accomplished Grimhaggard Hall; a Farce in Two Acts—not historical, but highly comic. After which came apparently a gap of two or three years; and in 1850 she wrote, Who Was The Witch? a Drama in Three Acts—historical again, belonging to the days of the Saxons and of King Harold, half comic, half tragic.
It does not appear from these three plays that her gift in the dramatic line had made any marked advance during the ten years or more which had elapsed since first she launched out in this direction. Probably an entirely different mode of life from hers, a less sheltered existence, a more extensive knowledge of human nature in its countless phases, is an absolute necessity to such development. There is in them much latent power, however unequal and undeveloped, whether it be of the grave or of the sparkling and humorous description. The following quotation from the Castle of Sternalt will give an idea of her tragic style at that period. Ravensby, the hero, is a Cavalier, imprisoned and condemned to death on a false charge of murder.
ACT IV.—SCENE I.
A DUNGEON.
Ravensby.
‘Th’ intensity of grief destroys itself.
The torturer beholds his Victim stretched
Unconscious, pain itself o’ercome by pain.
Fate dooms me now to death; last punishment
Which mortal can inflict—and yet I feel
There’s mercy in the doom. Thus to live on
Were lingering martyrdom; it were to die
By inches, drain my heart’s blood drop by drop.
One flash ends all! O Clara, when my soul
Hath ceased to suffer, can it cease to love?
Methinks, when quitting Earth, ’twill still retain
Her image, who was more than Earth to me!
It is a portion of my being, twined
With every thought and feeling; thou wilt weep,
My Clara; thou canst not believe him false
To faith and friends, who is so true to thee.
Gazing into the uncorrupted depths
Of thy pure feelings, thou wilt judge of mine.
When all denounced me, thou wert still my friend
When all forget, thou wilt remember still!
Enter Agnes.
Agnes, aside.
I ne’er have feared the eye of mortal man,
Why should I shrink from his?
Rav. Who comes to break
The prisoner’s solitude?
Agn. One who would be
The prisoner’s friend.
Rav. I have no friend—save one.
Agn. Can he speak thus who hath so long espoused
The Royal cause, and served that cause so well?
Who, girt with honours, well deserved, hath stood
One in a noble Brotherhood of Fame!
Where are the Cavaliers who fought with thee
In battle, side by side, who with thee shared
The feast, and drained the wine-cup to your King?
Where are they now? what, gone? not one remains,
T’assert thy innocence, or shield thee from
An ignominious death. Friends! out upon them!
They mock the name; it were not thus, if thou
Hadst drawn thy gallant sword with those who wear
No chains but those of Virtue, those who own
No earthly Monarch, and uphold no power
But that of Liberty; whose friendship lasts
Not only when the red wine sparkles high,
And revelry and song profane the night;
If such had been thy comrades and thy friends,
Thou hadst not been forsaken thus.
Rav. No more!
Agn. The gate thou hast defended with thy blood,
To-morrow casts thee forth, led out to die;
And the proud towers coldly will look down
Upon the closing scene; for hearts more hard
And