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


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his well-occupied life he found some time to indulge the play of his fancy. In the year 1835 he published a volume of plays and enigmas, called The Tragedies of Harold and Camoens, dedicated to the Duke of Wellington, for whom he and his family had the deepest esteem and admiration.

       A.D. 1821–1835

       CHILDHOOD AND GIRLHOOD

       Table of Contents

      Charlotte Maria Tucker was born on the 8th of May 1821, not within the sound of Bow bells, but, as already stated, at Friern Hatch, in Barnet, no long time before the family settled down in Portland Place.

      Details of her very early life are greatly wanting. We should like to know how the childish intellect began to develop; what first turned her thoughts into the ‘writing line’; whether authorship came to her spontaneously or no. But few records have been kept.

      It is not indeed difficult to imagine the general character of her childhood. She was clever, quick-witted, full of fun, overflowing with energy, abounding in life and vigour. One of a large and high-spirited family, living in a home of comparative comfort and ease, and surrounded by a wide circle of friends and acquaintances, Charlotte must have had a happy childhood.

      Long years after, when old and wellnigh worn out with her Indian campaign, she wrote—

      ‘It seems curious to look back to the birthday sixty-one years ago, when sweet Mother called me “her ten-years old.” Do you remember my funny little cards of invitation to a feast of liquorice-wine—with possibly something else—

      ‘ “This is the eighth of May,

      Charlotte’s Happy Birthday.”

      ‘I would not change this time for that. What a proud ambitious little creature I was! I have a pretty vivid recollection of my own character in youth. I should have liked to climb high and be famous.’

      In another letter she alludes to the fact that as a child she had been accused of ‘liking to ride her high horse.’

      No doubt in those early days her ambition pointed to higher game than children’s tales written ‘with a purpose.’

      In the gay young family party, two daughters and two sons were older than herself. Of the latter the nearest in age was Robert, four years her senior, the future dying hero of the Indian Mutiny. ‘Our noble Robert’ she calls him long after; and there appears to have been an early and close tie between Robert and his ambitious, eager little sister. Of Fanny, too, the next sister above her in age, two years older than Robert, she was particularly fond. But the tie in her life which was most of all to her, perhaps taking precedence of even her passionate love for her Father, was the bond between herself and Laura, the next youngest sister, about four years her junior. From infancy to old age these two were one, loving each other with an absolutely unbroken and unclouded devotion.

      The two were counted to some extent alike, though with differences. Laura was the gentler, the more self-distrustful, the more disposed to lean. Charlotte was the more impulsive, the more eager, the more energetic, the more independent, the more self-reliant. In fact, Charlotte never did ‘lean’ upon anybody. Both were equally full of spirits and of frolicsome fun.

      In another letter from India to this sister, dated January 18, 1886, when referring to a recent illness, she wrote—

      ‘My memory is very acute. I thought lately that it was a great shame that I never should go back to dear old No. 3, which really was the happy home of our childhood before our griefs. So what do you think, Laura dear, I did lately? I acted over in my mind Christmas Day, as in the old times, when you and I were girls. I do not think that I left out anything; our jumping on dearest Mother’s bed; the new Silver;[1] the Holly and the Mistletoe; the Christmas Box; the choosing the gowns; the Cake, etc. Then I went to Trinity Church; I heard the glorious old hymn, “High let us swell triumphant notes.” It was such a nice meditation. Then Aunt Anderson and her dear daughters came for dinner. Of course Aunt had her little yellow sugar-plum box!’

      It is a pretty and vivid description of the olden days in that dear old home, always spoken of among themselves as ‘Number Three,’ which she loved ardently to the last. Charlotte’s affections for everything connected with her youth were of a very enduring nature.

      Another short extract from her later letters may be given here, describing something of what the loved sister Laura was to her in those early days. It is dated December 10, 1892.

      ‘My Laura loved me so fondly; we were so close to each other. How we used to share each other’s thoughts from youth, as we shared the same room! Our honoured Father loved to hear his Laura’s merry ringing laugh; when we chatted together he would say to her favourite sister,’—meaning herself—‘ “She combines so much.” I doubt that he saw any imperfection in a being so bright, so sweet.’

      And in yet one more letter to this same Laura, dated November 1, 1884—

      ‘You underrate your own qualifications as a companion, darling. Don’t I know you of old, how playful and genial you are, as well as loving? … You are choice company for a tête-à-tête.’

      The earliest writing of Charlotte’s which comes to hand is indorsed, ‘Charlotte, 1832,’ and is addressed to ‘Miss D. L. Tucker, 3 Upper Portland Place.’ It is a valentine written to her sister; and it shows that at the early age of eleven she had at least begun a little versifying; usually the line first adopted by incipient authors.

      ‘The snow-drops sweet that grace the plain

      Are emblems, love, of you,

      With innocence and beauty blest

      Pure as the morning dew.

      ‘Sweet rosebud, free from every storm

      Of life, may peace incline

      To hover ever round thy bed,

      My dearest Valentine.’

      Another early effort, undated, but possibly a year or two later, is addressed, ‘To Dolly, the sweet little bud of the morn,’—no doubt to the same favourite sister, Dorothea Laura.

      ‘Sweet bud of the morning, what poet can speak

      The glories that beam in thy eye?

      The rosebuds that bloom on thy fat little cheek—

      And thy round head so stuffed full of Latin and Greek,

      Arithmetic and Geology.

      ‘I send you a character-teller, my love,

      ’Tis little and poor, but it may

      My kindness, affection, etcetera, prove,

      And show you, my dear little Dolly, I strove

      To make mine a happy birthday.’

      What the ‘character-teller’ may have been it is difficult even to conjecture. Since Laura was four years her junior, the Latin, Greek and Geology were of course meant in the symbolical sense, standing for learning in general.

      One more apparently early effort remains; not this time versification, but a birthday letter to Laura, inscribed, ‘To my dear Lady Emma, from her affectionate Tosti.’ Why Lady Emma?—and why Tosti? In these three effusions the handwritings are curiously unlike one another, though all are childish. One is large and unformed; another is small and cramped; the third is neat and of a copperplate description. It may be that her writing was long before it crystallized into any definite shape; often the case with many-sided people. But for the juvenile handwriting, it would be almost impossible to believe that the following middle-aged production was not written in later years. Children were, however, in those days taught to express


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