A Lady of England 5

A Lady of England 5

Twenty-five years of hard toil in India had not made a rich man of Mr.

Tucker; nor did his position as a Director bring him wealth. It was his

daughter’s pride in after-life to know that he had died comparatively

poor, because of his inviolable sense of honour. Not that more money

would not have been acceptable! Ten children, including five sons, to be

launched in life, are a serious pull upon any purse of ordinary capacity;

and Mr. Tucker was of an essentially generous nature. He had many

relatives, many friends, and the demands upon his purse were numerous. On

a certain occasion he gave away about _one-quarter of his whole capital_,

a sum amounting to several thousands of pounds, to help a relative in a

great emergency. One who met him immediately afterwards spoke of his

appearing to have suddenly grown into an old man.

 

In Charlotte’s earlier years anxiety as to money matters was often

experienced; and recurring Christmastides saw a repeated difficulty in

making both ends meet. This state of things continued up till about the

year 1837, when an unlooked-for legacy was left to Mr. Tucker, as a

token of great esteem, by a friend, Mr. Brough. Besides the main legacy

to Mr. and Mrs. Tucker, the sum of two hundred pounds came to each of

the children, and was treated as a ‘nest-egg’ for each. From this date

serious pressure ceased, and Mr. Tucker became able to meet the various

calls upon him; not indeed without care and economy, but without a

perpetual weight of uneasiness. Some few years later another friend, Mr.

Maclew, left another legacy in the same kind and unexpected manner.

 

These facts serve to explain the paucity of masters when Charlotte was

young. But the sisters bravely accepted the condition of things, and

worked hard to make up for any disadvantages. One distinct gain in such

a home education was that at least they were free to develop each in her

own natural lines, instead of being all trimmed as far as possible into

one shape.

 

Charlotte’s ‘lines’ were many in number.

 

She had a marked talent for drawing, and could take likenesses of her

friends; good as regarded the salient features, though apt to grow into

more of caricatures than the young artist intended. Musical gifts also

were hers, including an almost painfully sensitive ear. Though her voice

was never really very good, she sang much; and while well able to take a

second at sight, she was in after years equally ready to undertake any

other part in a glee, inclusive of the bass, which often fell to her

share when a man’s voice happened to be lacking.

 

A gift for teaching showed itself early; and as a child she would try

to impress geographical facts upon her younger brothers and sisters

by an original system of her own. In the Park Crescent Gardens, near

Portland Place,--their playground; described by one friend in those days

as a “jungle,” because of its unkempt condition,--she would name one bed

England, another France, another Germany, and so on, and would thus fix

in the children’s minds their various positions, though the shapes and

sizes of the beds were by no means always what they ought to have been.

That the mode of instruction was effective is evident from the fact that

her brother, Mr. St. George Tucker, can recall the lessons still, after

the lapse of fifty years, and can say, ‘By that means I learnt that

England was in the north-west corner of Europe.’

 

Another direction in which she excelled was that of dancing. Even in

walking she possessed a peculiarly springy step, remarked by all who knew

her; and this in dancing was a great advantage. She was at home alike in

the dignified minuet and in the active _gavotte_, and she would perform

the _pas de basque_ with much spirit. Indeed dancing was an exercise in

which she found immense enjoyment through half a century of life.

 

At home Charlotte was a leader in the games, herself flowing over with

fun and frolic. Her fertile imagination left her never at a loss for

schemes of amusement. Naturally eager, impulsive, vehement, she had from

beginning to end an extraordinary amount of energy, and in childhood her

vigour must have been almost untirable.

 

One can imagine how the house echoed with the gay voices and laughter

of the young people, as they pursued their various games, led by the

indefatigable Charlotte. Mr. Tucker loved the sound of those merry

voices; and when he could join them he was probably the merriest of the

whole party. At one period, heavy and long-continued work in ‘clearing

up the finances’ of the East India Company kept him much apart from the

family circle; and the delight was great when he could leave his big dry

books, and be as a boy among the children again.

 

Bella, the elder girl, was pretty and of gracious manners, with dark

eyes, and with a capacity for dressing herself well upon the very

moderate allowance which her father was able to bestow. Fanny, the next

sister, though not at all handsome, had also soft dark eyes, and a

peculiarly sweet disposition; and she too dressed nicely. It was commonly

said amongst themselves that Fanny was ‘the gentle sister,’ and that

Charlotte was ‘the clever heroic sister.’ But Charlotte was not gifted

with the art of dressing well.

 

In those early days, and for many a year afterwards, it would not appear

that gentleness or sweetness were characteristics belonging to Charlotte.

They were of far later growth, developing only under long pressure of

loss and trial. In her childhood and girlhood, though doubtless she

_could_ be both winning and tender to the few whom she intensely loved,

yet it was impossible to describe her generally by any such adjectives.

She was chiefly remarkable for her spring and energy, her originality and

cleverness, her wild spirits, and her lofty determination. With all her

liveliness, however, she was in no sense a madcap, being thoroughly a

lady.

 

In appearance Charlotte was never good-looking; and in girlhood she could

not have been pretty; though there was always an indescribable charm in

the vivid life and the ever-varying __EXPRESSION__ of her face.

 

One friend remembers hearing her tell a story of her young days, bearing

upon this question of personal appearance. With a mirror and a hand-glass

she examined her own face, the profile as well as the full face, and

evidently she was not satisfied with the result. A wise resolution

followed. Since she ‘could never be pretty,’ she determined that she

‘would try to be good, and to do all the good in the world that she

could.’ It was a resolve well carried out.

 

This 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!