A Lady of England 23

A Lady of England 23

TO MISS BELLA F. TUCKER.

 

‘_Dec. 12, 1854._

 

‘We went to St. James’ Park to-day, to see Her Majesty on her

way to open Parliament. I had an excellent view of our poor

dear Queen; and the sight of her mournful subdued countenance,

as she bowed graciously to her people, but without the shadow

of a smile, quite touched my heart. This war weighs very

heavily upon her; and I am anxious to know whether she was able

to get through her speech without breaking down altogether. She

looked to-day as though it would have taken less to make her

weep than laugh.

 

‘How England is exerting herself to send comforts to her brave

sons in the Crimea! A lady was here to-day who, having seen

that books were thought desirable presents to the Army, made up

a box of them, which was to go to a Mr. S. who had offered to

receive them. But when her intended gift was known,--“O pray do

not send any more books!” was the poor receiver’s cry. “We have

seventy thousand volumes!” and they did not know how such a

tremendous library was to be forwarded. In the lint department,

parcels came in at the rate of two hundred a day! Good-bye.’

 

TO THE SAME.

 

‘_Jan. 13, 1855._

 

‘It is singular in how many ways last year I seemed to be

taught a lesson of patience. I was disappointed over and

over and over again. In one matter in which I was greatly

interested, I was so at least five times; but before the close

of the year I had cause to say with much pleasure,--“I am glad

that I was disappointed.” Another time I had a very heavy heart

from a different source of disappointment; and some months

later I was grieved, even, I am half ashamed to say, to tears;

and yet before December was out I was actually glad of both

these disappointments, as well as the five others; and a good

appeared to spring from the evil. Now, if I am inclined to be

impatient,--and _very_ impatient I am by nature,--I try to

remember my experience, and really to get the valuable lesson

by heart. I think it a good plan at the end of a year to review

the whole, to try and find out what especial lesson has been

set one to learn in it. I found it to be _praise_ one year;

last year _patience_. I know not what it will be this year. I

hope that--but no, I will not write what I intended. Whatever

is, is best. We have not to choose our tasks, but to learn

them.’

 

TO MRS. HAMILTON.

 

‘_June 15, 1855._

 

‘What news have I to give you? We have had a nice note from

dear Henry to-day, saying nothing about health, except that

Robin is well. St. G. and I have just come from a loiter at

the Botanical Gardens, which showed us that we need be under

no great concern, were hemp and flax exterminated from the

vegetable world, and silkworms to leave off being spinsters, as

we could dress cheaply and well on plantain fibre, have capital

paper and excellent ropes, etc.’

 

In the August of 1855 she had the pleasure of going with her brother, Mr.

St. George Tucker, to the great French Exhibition at Paris. This was the

celebrated occasion of the Queen’s visit to Napoleon, after the close

of the Crimean War; and Paris was thronged. So full was the place that

rooms in Paris itself were not to be had, and they went to an hotel in

Versailles, occupying apartments which had once been occupied by Louis

Napoleon. Charlotte’s warlike enthusiasm showed itself in the fact that

she was willing to pay twenty-five francs apiece for seats at the Champs

de Mars, where they might witness the review of 45,000 French troops.

When Her Majesty had quitted Paris, it became possible to obtain rooms at

the Hôtel Bristol.

 

From Versailles she wrote to Mrs. Hamilton, on the 21st of August:--

 

‘DEAREST WIFEY,[5]--You wished for a letter from France, so

here is one; but if you expect a description of what I have

seen, I really cannot undertake to give you even a _précis_.

Paris surpasses my expectations. All in its gala dress as it

is now, swarming with people, crowded with soldiers, gay with

fluttering flags and triumphal arches,--it is really a sight

in itself. The grand Exposition of pictures is splendid; it is

only too large. I was amused at it by a lady coming up to me,

and politely requesting me to inform her who Ophelia was. An

old French lady, looking at a picture of the burial of Harold,

and, I suppose, feeling that the subject might be painful to me

as a Saxon, politely assured me of her regret at that monarch’s

death! “Let bygones be bygones,” say I.

 

‘Most of the French foot-soldiers are very little fellows,

compared to some of our troops; but amongst the Cavalry are

very fine tall men. The Zouaves are very heathenish-looking

warriors. They dress something like Turks, with all about their

throats so perfectly bare that they quite invite you to cut

their heads off.

 

‘St. G. and I so enjoyed this exquisite evening in the stately

gardens! A fine military band was performing, the people were

happily listening, little children skipping about, the glorious

sunset tints illuminating a palace fit for the “grand Monarch.”

 

‘We have seen our Sovereign Lady three times, which was being

in great luck. I am rather tired of writing, so will only add

kindest love, and beg you to believe me your ever attached,

 

C. M. TUCKER.

 

_‘P.S._--I told a fat funny little French baba to-day that I

had a niece younger than herself, and asked her if she would

not like to see her. The answer was unsatisfactory.’

 

The Crimean War was ended; and two years later came the outbreak of the

Indian Mutiny, with its awful carnage, its heaps of slain, its tortured

women and children, its heroic determination, its dauntless courage. Then

was seen a Continent, lost apparently in one day, won back to the British

Crown by mere handfuls of indomitable men facing armed myriads. Such a

tale had never been told before.

 

If Charlotte’s patriotism had been stirred by the Crimean struggle, this

came nearer to her yet! She had five brothers, all in India, all more or

less in daily peril. Mr. Henry Carre Tucker was Commissioner at Benares;

Mr. St. George Tucker was at Mirzapore; Mr. William Tucker was in a less

acutely unsafe position; Mr. Charlton Tucker, after seeing his Colonel

shot down, was for weeks in hiding. All these escaped. But her early

companion, Robert,--the father of her ‘Robins,’--was among the slain;

and the three children, already long half-orphaned, became now wholly

orphaned.

 

Robert Tucker’s remarkable powers, and his successes at Haileybury, have

been earlier spoken about. Naturally of a serious and stern disposition,

though not without lighter traits, he had been a good deal saddened by

troubles, which no doubt resulted in the more complete dedication of

himself and all that he possessed to the Service of his Divine Master. A

short sketch of his life, written by his sister Charlotte, and published

by the S.P.C.K., tells of his work at Futteypore, where for many years he

was Judge.

 

About four years before the Mutiny he had written home about the

‘extraordinary success’ which was attending his Christian school,

established and kept going by himself. On Sundays he was in the habit of

regularly addressing a collected crowd of Natives; literally ‘the poor,

the maimed, the halt, the blind’; and he did not teach them only, but

also ministered liberally to their bodily needs.

 

In her little sketch Charlotte says of him,--‘Careless of his own

comfort, restricting his personal expenses to a very narrow compass, he

gave to the Missionary cause at the rate of forty pounds monthly, and one

year even more’; adding that with ‘shrinking from ostentation’ he had

never given his name on these occasions. And again--‘It was his deep and

abiding sense of the debt which he owed to his Saviour, which made the

Judge devote not only his substance but his heart and his soul to the

Lord. How deep was the gratitude which he expressed in these words--“If

every hair upon my head were a life, it would be too little to sacrifice

to the Lord Jesus Christ!”’

 

A clue to many things in Charlotte’s own later life may be perhaps found

here. There can be no doubt that the story of her brother’s self-denying

life and tragical death made a profound impression upon her mind. His

example, long after, was closely copied by this sister, when she too

‘restricted her personal expenses to a very narrow compass,’ precisely as

he had done, and with the same object, that she might have the more to

give away. Also his energy in teaching was reflected by her own burning

desire, in old age, to speak on all occasions to the Natives of their

deepest needs, and never to miss an opportunity of trying to lead some

poor Hindu or Muhammadan to Christ, always with the vivid sense upon her,

when she met man or woman, that the call to herself might come before

they could meet again, and so a second opportunity might never recur.

Another eighteen years had, however, yet to elapse before she would go

out to India, to follow in his steps, and to render to Hindustan a loving

return for this ‘year of horrors.’

 

In June 1857, like a thunder-clap, not indeed utterly unforeseen but