A Lady of England: The Life and Letters of Charlotte Maria Tucker. Agnes Giberne
and I feel assured that you will all tenderly watch over her, and contribute by every means in your power to her future comfort.’
This wish was fulfilled. Mrs. Tucker never did leave No. 3 Upper Portland Place, except of course for necessary change. It remained her home, and the home of her daughters, from the year 1851, when her husband died, until her own death in the year 1869.
How much of life’s sunshine had been swept out of Charlotte’s life by the loss of her Father, it is perhaps impossible for any one to estimate who did not personally know Mr. Tucker. Not that all her sunshine had departed! Apart from her own inherent elasticity of spirit, she was devotedly attached to her Mother; and she had still the tender and satisfying companionship of Laura.
That while deeply saddened, she was not crushed, is shown by the following letter to her little niece, Bella F. Tucker, dated August 9, 1851:—
‘The sun has been shining so beautifully lately, and the reapers have been busy in the fields. It is a sight to warm the heart, to see the yellow sheaves covering the land, and we should bless God for an abundant harvest. There is a clover-field near us, and it looks like a beautiful carpet of lilac and green. I was calculating that there must be more than two million blossoms in that one field; and each blossom may be perhaps the home of many insects. … Then what is that field compared to all England, or England to Europe, or Europe to the whole world? Neither your little head, nor the wisest man’s, can imagine how many blossoms and how many insects there are on this great globe—it makes one almost giddy to think of it—and then to consider that all the world itself is only like a speck in God’s Creation, that there are said to be eighty millions of fixed stars, each of which has very likely worlds moving round it. And God made all. How very great and wonderful He must be! It seems surprising that He should care for every one on this little ball—how much more astonishing that He should have condescended to come and live upon it, to have appeared as a feeble Child in one of the worlds that He had made, and then actually to die, like one of the creatures that He had formed! Is not God’s power wonderful, and His love more wonderful still?
‘When you look at the bright blue sky, do you never long to fly up like the birds—no, much higher than the birds can fly, to your Home, to your Father which is in Heaven? I hope that time may come, sweet Bella, but now is the time to prepare. I sometimes think that this life is our school-time. We are now to learn lessons of faith and patience and love. When our education is finished we shall be allowed to go Home; and Death will be the gentle Messenger to say—“Your Heavenly Father sends for you; come and join your loved ones who have gone before. O that will be joyful, when we meet to part no more!” ’
There is a tone of quiet sadness running through the letter, in marked contrast with those joyous epistles to her sister Laura quoted earlier in this chapter. The world could never again be to her ‘so bright, so fair!’ as in the days when her Father was still upon earth. No doubt as time went on the buoyancy of her temperament reasserted itself; but life was no longer unshadowed; and other troubles soon followed.
One of these must certainly have been the marriage of her sister Laura, though no letters are at hand to show what she felt. Mr. Otho Hamilton, elder brother to the Rev. Frederick Hamilton, who had married Charlotte’s eldest sister, sought Laura’s hand; and he was accepted.
Not entirely without hesitation. Perhaps few girls can say, or ought to say, ‘Yes’ at once, without time for consideration. When the offer came, Laura’s first impulse was, naturally, to go to her Mother for advice; her second impulse was to go to her friend-sister. It is not hard to realise what the thought must have been to Charlotte of losing this dearly-loved companion—her room-mate and the constant sharer of her thoughts and interests from very infancy; nor is it difficult to believe how bravely she would put aside the recollection of herself, viewing the question from Laura’s standpoint alone. It must, however, be remembered that Charlotte was romantically enthusiastic on the subject of others’ engagements, and was through life ardently interested in the marriages of her friends. In the present case her knowledge of how highly her Father had thought of Mr. Hamilton would be an additional incentive to put no obstacle in the way. It seems that Laura’s hesitation had arisen, not from any doubt as to her own feelings, but simply from a desire to be sure of her duty. The engagement took place; and on the 19th of October 1852, Laura Tucker became Mrs. Hamilton. So another leaf was turned in the story of Charlotte’s life.
And now, in the very midst of these changes and losses arose a new interest. Hitherto, Charlotte had written a good deal, but she had never published, perhaps had never even thought of publishing. What first led her to adopt the style of fiction, by which she was soon to become known, it is possible at least to conjecture. In 1850, as we have seen, she wrote another of her merry plays, full of fun and humour. Now, suddenly, she seems to have plunged into the line of children’s stories, having each a very prominent ‘purpose,’—her earliest being The Claremont Tales. It may be that the shock of her first great sorrow, the death of Mr. Tucker, making her to realise intensely the shortness of life on earth, and the supreme weight of things unseen, had the effect of turning her mind with a new energy to the thought of doing good by means of her pen. It may be also that, now he was gone for whom and with whom she had written her plays, all zest in that direction was gone with him, and the gift of writing, like a river dammed up in one direction and forced to turn elsewhere, sought naturally a fresh outlet—an outlet with which there should be no overpoweringly sad associations. Moreover, the home-circle was no longer what it had been. Two of the sisters, to whom she had read her plays, were gone; and with the changed order of life came a new order of writing.
Exactly when she began or finished The Claremont Tales is not known. With her usual reserve she at first said nothing about the completed MS.—beyond, at all events, reading the stories to the children. Probably she felt doubtful about her own venture; and some little time seems to have passed before she showed it to her Mother. Mrs. Tucker was much delighted with the attempt, said at once that it ought to be published, and insisted on action being taken.
So, on November 19, 1851, the MS. was sent to Messrs. W. and R. Chambers, with the accompanying letter:—
‘Sir—It has for some time been my anxious desire to add my mite to the Treasury of useful literature, which you have opened to the young as well as the old.
‘The Tales which I now venture to offer to you for publication were originally composed for young children under my own charge, and were listened to with an appearance of interest, which gives me hopes that they may meet with no unfavourable reception from others of the same tender years.
‘I ask for no earthly remuneration; my position in life renders me independent of any exertions of my own; I pray but for God’s blessing upon my attempts to instruct His lambs in the things which concern their everlasting welfare; and deeply gratified should I feel, were my little work to be classed among the numerous valuable publications which you have already given to the world.
‘The Tales might be printed separately, as each forms a complete story, though all are united by connecting links.’
The date is given, but no name and no address; and a letter more quaintly stiff and unbusiness-like can surely never have won a Publisher’s smile. To return the MS. to herself, if disapproved of, was not possible; and, as it happened, The Claremont Tales did not belong to the class of publications undertaken by Messrs. Chambers. Very kindly, however, they passed it on to the house of Messrs. Gall and Inglis; and by them the little book was brought out. One can imagine how eagerly Charlotte, while preserving her strict incognita, must have watched for the possible appearance of her Tales, and how delighted she would be to see the name advertised. When this occurred, she wrote again—
‘May 24, 1853.
‘A. L. O. E. presents her compliments to Messrs. Gall and Inglis, and, admiring the elegant form in which they have presented The Claremont Tales to the public, is happy to offer to them for publication the accompanying volume of poems—asking no further remuneration than 20 copies of the work, when printed, for gratuitous distribution. A. L. O. E. proposes sending a few copies of her poems to the principal Reviews, as a means of extending their circulation.