A Lady of England: The Life and Letters of Charlotte Maria Tucker. Agnes Giberne
sounds like a curious echo of an early experience of her father. When a boy of about ten, he caught smallpox, and ‘came forth,’ as he related of himself long after, ‘most wofully disfigured. … “Well,” observed one of my aunts, “you have now, Henry, lost all your good looks, and you have nothing for it but to make yourself agreeable by your manners and accomplishments.” Here was cold comfort; but the words made an impression upon my mind, and may possibly have had some influence on my future life.’
And much the same thought is reproduced in Charlotte Tucker’s own clever and amusing little book, My Neighbour’s Shoes—when, as Archie gazes into the mirror, he says of himself, ‘One thing is evident; as I can’t be admired for my beauty, I must make myself liked in some other way. I’ll be a jolly good-natured little soul.’
In girlish days it may have been a prominent idea with Charlotte. By nature she not only was impulsive, but she no doubt inherited some measure of her great-grandfather Bruere’s irascible temper; and the amount of self-control speedily developed by one of so impetuous a temperament is remarkable. High principle had sway at a very early age; but this thought, that her lack of good looks might be compensated for by good humour and kindness to others, may also have been a motive of considerable power in the formation of her character.
It must be added that not all thought so ill of her looks as Charlotte herself did. An artist of repute, who saw her in the later days of her Indian career, has said unhesitatingly, in reply to a query on this subject—‘Plain! No! A face with such a look of intellect as Miss Tucker’s could never be plain.’ If matters were thus in old age, the same might surely have been said when she was young. But beauty of feature she did not possess.
In addition to her other gifts, Charlotte had something at least of dramatic power, and in her own home-circle she was a spirited actress.
Mr. Tucker’s published volume of plays and enigmas has been already named. Both Harold and Camoens were acted by the young folk of the family, with the rest of their number for audience. It is uncertain whether any outside friends were admitted on these occasions.
In the second play Charlotte took the part of the heroine, Theodora; and her brother, St. George, took the part of Ferdinand. Camoens, the hero, is betrayed to the Inquisition by Theodora; the betrayal being caused by a fit of fierce jealousy on the part of Theodora, who loves, and is apparently loved by, Camoens. The jealousy has some foundation, since Camoens decides to marry, not Theodora but Clara. Theodora in her wrath is helped by another lover, Ferdinand, to carry out her plot, and together they bring a false charge against Ferdinand, who is speedily landed in the dungeons of the Inquisition. Theodora then, finding that Clara does not love Camoens, and repenting too late her deed, goes mad with remorse. Camoens is after all set at liberty, none the worse for his imprisonment; but the distracted Theodora, meeting her other lover and her companion in evil-doing, Ferdinand, attacks him vehemently, with these words—
‘Theod. Ha! Ferdinand!
Thou hast recalled a name!
It brings some dreadful recollections.
’Twas he who basely did betray my husband.
Go, wretched man! bring back the murdered Camoens!
Go, make thy peace. (She stabs him.)
Bian. Oh! help!
Ferd. I bless the hand that gave the wound.
Thou hast redeemed me from a deadly sin,
Or mortal suffering.
Farewell, beloved unhappy Theodora.
Guard her, ye pitying angels!
Theod. Where am I?
What have I done?
I have some strange impression of a dream—
A fearful dream of death.
Young Ferdinand, who loved me!
Dead—dead—and by this desperate hand!’
After which Clara enters, and Theodora dies, completing the tragedy. One can picture the force and energy with which Charlotte would have poured forth her reproaches upon the head of Ferdinand, before giving him the fatal stab.
It may have been somewhere about this time—it was at all events before the year 1842—that Charlotte had once a scientific fit, and for several weeks threw herself with ardour into the study of Chemistry. At intervals in her life a marked interest is shown in certain scientific facts or subjects; sufficient, perhaps, to indicate that, had the bent been cultivated, she might possibly have shown some measure of power in that direction also. Books on Natural History always proved an attraction to her; and many little Natural History facts come incidentally into her correspondence, sometimes given from her own observation. In later years she even wrote two or three little books for children on semi-scientific subjects—not without making mistakes, from the common error of trusting to old instead of to new authorities. But the early influences with which she was surrounded were not of a kind to call forth this tendency, if indeed it existed in any but a very slight degree. Her Father’s bent was strongly poetical and classical; and probably his influence over her mind in girlhood was stronger than any other. The poetic and the scientific may, and sometimes do, exist side by side; but the combination is not very usual.
A great event of Charlotte’s young days was the fancy-dress ball given by her parents in the spring of 1835. The Duke of Wellington himself was present; prominent still in the minds of men as the Deliverer of Europe, only twenty years earlier, from a tyrant’s thraldom. All the young Tuckers, not to speak of their parents, were ardent admirers of the Duke. Laura, still a mere child, in her enthusiasm slipped close up behind, when the Duke was ascending the stairs, and gently abstracted a fallen hair from the shoulder of the hero, which hair she preserved ever after among her choicest treasures; and Charlotte was no whit behind Laura in this devotion.
At the ball Frances made her appearance dressed as Queen Elizabeth—‘very neat and very stately,’—while Charlotte represented ‘the star of the morning,’ in a dress of pure muslin, full and well starched, so nicely made and so beautifully white that the impression of it lasts still in the mind of a brother, after the lapse of more than half a century. The prettiness of her dress on that particular occasion was no doubt accentuated by the fact that in general Charlotte did not attire herself becomingly; and also by the fact of another young lady being present as a second ‘star of the morning.’ For the other ‘star’ had hired a dress for the evening; a muslin dress, which was by no means white, but dingy and tumbled. In contrast, Charlotte’s pure whiteness, relieved by a star upon her forehead, drew much attention. Since she was then only a girl of about fourteen, it appears that a close distinction was not drawn in those days, as in these, between girls ‘out’ and girls ‘not out.’ Her brother, St. George, a boy of twelve or thirteen, was also present, wearing a Highland costume.
The hero of the day appeared in evening dress, according to the then fashion, with a star on his breast. Frances, in her queenly apparel, presented him with a bag which contained a Commission to defend England—a business which, one is disposed to think, he had already pretty well accomplished! The Duke received this offering graciously; and a day or two later the following playful letter arrived from him to Mr. Tucker:—
‘Strathfieldsaye.
Ap. 26, 1835.
‘My dear Sir—When Queen Elizabeth gave me that beautiful bag on Friday night, I was not aware that it contained a Letter Patent which I prize highly; and for which I ought to have returned my grateful acknowledgment at the time it was delivered.
‘I beg you to present my thanks; and to express my hopes that her Majesty continued to enjoy the pleasures of the evening; and that she has not been fatigued by them.
‘Ever, my dear Sir,
‘Your most faithful humble servant,
(Signed) ‘Wellington.
‘H. St. George