A Lady of England: The Life and Letters of Charlotte Maria Tucker. Agnes Giberne

A Lady of England: The Life and Letters of Charlotte Maria Tucker - Agnes Giberne


Скачать книгу
diest a traitor’s death;—but wert thou ours,

      Then ev’ry bush around the fatal spot

      Should hold an armed defender, ev’ry knoll

      Conceal an ambushed friend, and at a word

      A wall of steel should bristle round thy breast;

      Then swords should clash with swords, and they who came

      To shed thy blood lie weltering in their own.

      If thou wert ours—and yet thou mayst be ours——

      Rav. Cease, for I know thee, Temptress; words like these

      Betray the fair false lips from which they flow.

      Thou’rt Agnes, own it—Gasper Tarlton’s love.

      Agn. Agnes I am, not Gasper Tarlton’s love.

      The thistledown that floats upon the breeze,

      The thorny weed which from my path I spurn,

      The insect which I crush beneath my tread,

      Are not to me more insignificant,

      More worthless—than the Slave whom thou hast named.

      Rav. Thank Heaven! then my last doubt melts away;

      He yet is true, yet faithful to his King;

      My sacrifice will not be made for nought.

      Maid, he is honoured in thy hate!

      Agn. And thou——

      Rav. Leave me.

      Agn. To perish!

      Rav. Thou canst not defend.

      Agn. I could—yes, I could arm in thy behalf

      A thousand gallant hands, might I but say,

      ‘The injured will on the oppressor turn,

      Unite the love of freedom with revenge,

      A thousand-fold repay the debt he owes

      To your brave confidence; in Ravensby

      Ye will destroy a foe and win a friend!’

      Could I speak thus——

      Rav. Thy sex protects thee, Maid,

      Or thou shouldst learn the meed of treason. Hence!

      Agn. From other lips such words I had not borne.

      Why should I thus urge life upon thee—why

      Seek to preserve thee in thine own despite?

      O thou art worthy of a nobler cause;

      I see in thee one who can nobly dare,

      Firmly resolve, and boldly execute;—

      And what a bright career before thee lies——

      Rav. A brief one—from the dungeon to the tomb.

      Agn. To die a Traitor in the eyes of men.

      Rav. Better than live a villain in my own.

      Depart, and leave me to my fate. Away!

      Agn. O brave and glorious! I will tempt no more.

      My pride is humbled. I have found a soul

      That soars beyond mine own. I would not rob

      Thy pinion of one plume. I watch thy flight

      With kindling emulation. O for power

      To follow it, that I above this sphere

      Might rise; companion, not unworthy thee!

      Rav. A step approaches.

      Agn. None must see me here. [Retires into shade.]

      Agnes in the end confesses herself guilty of the crime for which he is condemned to death;—in time to save his name from lasting disgrace, though not in time to save his life.

      Who Was The Witch? though in parts amusing enough, is hardly so good as the others. Modern English puns sit oddly upon a background of pre-mediæval Saxon history. Grimhaggard Hall is perhaps one of A. L. O. E.’s most comic and laughable jeux-d’esprit, over which one can picture the family as enjoying many a hearty laugh. The perpetual play upon words, and the almost rollicking fun and nonsense of the whole, remind one of her earlier effort, The Pretender, already given at length; though the later-written farce is in some respects scarcely equal to the girlish achievement. Both these plays illustrate well the frisky and frolicsome side of a character which was in some respects not only intensely serious, but absolutely stern. Charlotte Tucker’s was truly a many-sided nature.

      Whether at this time she had already begun to write anything in the shape of children’s story-books does not appear. It is by no means unlikely, since the date of her first appearance in print was now fast drawing near.

      The chief characters in Grimhaggard Hall are—Mr. Cramp; Mr. Scull, an artist; Mr. Wriggle, a tutor; Miss Cob; and Nellie, daughter of Mr. Cramp.

      ACT I.

       Library in Grimhaggard Hall. Nellie and Mr. Wriggle.

      Nellie. O my dear old Tutor, I shall be so sorry to lose you! I wish that my good Father had kept to his old plan, and instead of sending Bob to College had kept both you and him here. This house is so intolerably dull. When you are gone I shall sit looking at the old stones in the old wall, till I petrify into one myself. Why, the very spiders’ webs look as though there were no business doing in them, and not a fly nor even a broom would call at the door! Heigh-ho!

      Wrig. You forget, honoured Madam, the governess, Miss Cob, who is expected here to-morrow.

      Nell. A governess; the horror! then I hear that she is an oddity; so absent; very learned though, and extremely well-informed. I am rather old for a governess; I was seventeen last March. It would have been quite a different thing to have gone on with my studies here with you and Bob. Do you know that, without vanity, I consider that I have made amazing progress during the month that you have been here?

      Wrig. In Geography, Madam, for instance. Let me have the honour of recalling to your oblivious memory that only yesterday you forgot the situation of Guinea.

      Nell. Nonsense! I said that it was on the Gold Coast, and wished I had it in my own pocket.

      Wrig. I have remarked with regret, if you will permit me to say it, an aversion to consulting the Atlas, which——

      Nell. Keep me from you and your atlas! Atlas carried the world, and you would burden me with the Atlas. I hardly consider myself competent yet to carry the whole globe on my poor little shoulders. I should like to know what is the use of knowing the situation of this place and that place, to one who never has the satisfaction of seeing any place at all beyond the walls of our stupid garden. I wish that the cross old gentleman who bequeathed my father Grimhaggard Hall, had lived to repent it, that I do! I would rather live in the narrowest lane in the City than be cooped up here like a toad in a block. I’ve no fancy to be a Penelope—stitch, stitch, stitch!

      Wrig. Penelope was a distinguished ornament to her sex.

      Nell. O dear Tutor, I know that she was a duck of a queen, but distinguished for nothing but her web-feat.

      Wrig. The resource of literature remains to you, Madam, which was never open to her. I would again venture to draw your attention to the subject of Geography.

      Nell. O no more of that, I beg, my dear Mr. Wriggle. I know that Ham and Sandwich are in the kitchen, China in the cupboard, and Madeira in the cellar. That is enough for me. I regard Geography simply in reference to utility. I’m quite a utilitarian by principle. You know that the greatest navigator was a Cook;


Скачать книгу