A Lady of England 25
‘Miss Charlotte had, as you know, much of the Romantic in her
composition.... In person she was always slight, and somewhat
fragile-looking. Indeed, both she and Miss Fanny gave one the
impression of being too incessantly though quietly busy about
everything that promoted the happiness of other people, to ever
become stout, or to cultivate dress and appearances, beyond
what was consistent with the aims and duties and requirements
of a fully occupied home-life.
‘Mrs. Tucker could not quite keep pace with the new-fashioned
unconventionalities of “young-lady work” in London; and one
of the object-sermons, which most impressed me in my College
days, was the beautiful self-restraint which these two
sisters--no longer young--imposed upon themselves, in deference
to their aged Mother’s wishes, in regard to that outside work
which inclination, or one might say conviction, as well as
opportunity and qualifications, impelled them to participate in.
‘Still the unbounded hospitality of the “open house” in
Portland Place went on; and still they were content to devote
their time, talents, and energies to successive generations of
juveniles and elder guests, without a murmur.’
One can well believe that the self-restraint had to be severe in
Charlotte’s case, with her abounding energies, and her eager desires for
usefulness. But she patiently abided her time; and she did not wait in
vain. These were years of quiet preparation.
In appearance at this time Charlotte was, as ever, tall and
thin,--decidedly tall, her height being five feet six inches, or two
inches over her Mother’s height, and only one inch short of her Father’s.
She had still as of old a peculiarly elastic and springy mode of walking;
and while possessing no pretensions to actual good looks, there was much
charm of manner, together with great animation. Still, as ever, she threw
herself energetically into the task of entertaining others, no matter
whether those ‘others’ were young or old, attractive or uninteresting.
This at present was a main duty of her life, and she never neglected
or slurred it. Still, as ever, she was guided and restrained by her
Mother’s wishes, yielding her own desires when the two wills, or the two
judgments, happened to lie in opposite directions.
Although not really fond of work, Charlotte was a beautiful knitter. She
would make most elaborate antimacassars, of delicate lace-like patterns,
invented by her own busy brain; and while working thus she was able to
read Shakespeare aloud. Her Father had loved Shakespeare, and Charlotte
had early caught the infection of this love, never afterwards to lose it.
Visiting in the Marylebone Workhouse went on steadily; she and Fanny
usually going together, until Fanny’s health began to fail, which was
probably not until after 1864.
Fanny was _par excellence_ the gentle sister; very sweet, very
unselfish; always the one who would silently take the most uncomfortable
chair in the room; always the one to put others forward, yet in so
quiet and unobtrusive a fashion that the fact was often not remarked
until afterwards. Of Charlotte it has been said by one who knew her
intimately,--‘I wonder whether before the year 1850 any one has described
her as “gentle.”’ The gentleness, which was with Fanny a natural
characteristic, had to be a slow after-growth with the more vehement and
resolute younger sister. Many a sharp blow upon the golden staff of her
Will was needful for this result.
As an instance of Fanny’s peculiar gentleness, it is told that one
Sunday, when she saw a man trying to sell things, she went up and
remonstrated with him, speaking very seriously, but in so mild and
courteous a manner, so entirely as she would have spoken to one who was
socially on her own level, that he was utterly unable to take offence.
She was also very generous, giving liberally to the poor out of her
limited dress-allowance, in earlier girlish days. This same generosity
was a marked feature in the character of Charlotte; perhaps especially in
later years.
Fanny was of middle height, and thin, with dark eyes; very neat and
orderly in her ways, wherein she was the opposite of Charlotte, who
was famed for untidiness in her arrangements. Charlotte was, however,
methodical in plans of action, and in literary work; and later in life
she seems to have struggled hard after habits of greater tidiness, as
a matter of principle. But in middle life she could still speak of her
drawers as--at least sometimes--supplying a succession of ‘surprises.’
Her ‘little Robins’ were now growing up, an ever-increasing care and
interest to her loving heart; and the devotion which she felt for Letitia
was of a most intense nature. The two boys were of course much away at
school; but Letitia was always with her,--until the year 1865, when it
was decided that she should go out to her uncle, Mr. St. George Tucker,
in India. Moreover, many other little nieces and nephews had a warm
place in the life of ‘Aunt Char,’ none more so than the children of her
especial sister-friend, one of whom was her own god-child.
Side by side with innumerable home-duties and home-pleasures went on
the continual writing of little books for children; one or two at least
appearing every year. The amount of work in one such volume is not heavy;
but A. L. O. E.’s other calls were many. And she was not writing for a
livelihood, or even for the increased comforts, whether of herself or
of others dependent upon her; therefore it could not be placed in the
front rank of home-duties. The Tuckers were sufficiently well off; and
Charlotte is believed to have devoted most or all of the proceeds of her
pen to charitable purposes.
To secure a certain amount of leisure for work, she accustomed herself to
habits of early rising. Her Mother had always strongly objected to late
hours, making the rule for her girls,--‘If you can, always hear eleven
o’clock strike in bed.’ Charlotte is said to have made her a definite
promise never to write books late at night; and through life this promise
was most scrupulously adhered to.
Since she was debarred from late hours, and since in those days she could
never be sure of her time through the day, early morning was all that
remained to her. Punctually, therefore, at six o’clock she got up,--like
her hero, Fides, conquering Giant Sloth,--and thus made sure of at least
an hour’s writing before breakfast. In winter months, when others had
fires at night in their bedrooms, Charlotte denied herself the luxury,
that she might have it in the morning instead for her work. The fire was
laid over-night, and she lighted it herself when she arose; long before
the maid came to call her.
Later in the day she wrote if she could and when she could. No doubt also
she found many an opportunity for thinking over her stories, and planning
what should come next. She usually had the tale clear in her mind before
putting pen to paper; so that no time was lost when an hour for actual
work could be secured.
A sitting-room behind the dining-room of No. 3, called ‘the parlour,’
was by common consent known as her room. Here she would sit and compose
her books; but she made of it no hermitage. Here she would be invaded
by nieces, nephews, children, anybody who wanted a word with ‘Aunt
Char.’ And she was ready always for such interruptions. Writing was
with her, as we have seen, not the main business of life, but merely an
adjunct,--an additional means of usefulness. Since she had secured the
one early uninterrupted hour, other hours might take their chance, and
anybody’s business might come before her own business. With all these
breaks, and in spite of them, she yet managed in the course of years to
accomplish a long list of children’s books.
One of the said nieces, Miss Annie Tucker, writes respecting certain
visits that she paid to her grandmother, Mrs. Tucker, at Portland Place:--
‘In each of these visits it was always my beloved Aunt
Charlotte who entertained me,--if I may use the word,--though I
was a mere child; and she did it just as if I were a grown-up
person. I could never see that she took less pains to interest
me than she did to please the many grown-up people who called.
She usually entertained us in her room behind the dining-room,
so that my grandmother should not be wearied too much.
‘How often have I gone in and out of her room, with a freedom
which now almost surprises me! but she never seemed interrupted
by my entrance. I have seen her put down her pen, though she
was evidently preparing MS. for the press, and attend to any
little thing I wanted to say, without one exclamation of
vexation or annoyance, or a resigned-resignation look, that
some people put on on such occasions, at her literary work
being put a stop to. And yet I am sure that was not because she
did not mind being interrupted.’
It is not for a moment to be implied that all hard toilers in life
are bound to follow precisely here the example of A. L. O. E.
Circumstances differ in different cases. Often the work itself is of
supreme importance; the interruptions are unnecessary and undeserving
of attention. If everybody worked as Charlotte Tucker worked at that
particular period, the amount accomplished would in some cases be very
small, and in other cases, where undivided attention is essential, the
result would be absolute failure. In her case the literary work was of
a simple description, and the home-calls appeared to be distinctly
first in importance. But the spirit which she showed was well worthy of
imitation. Many, whose favourite occupations are, to say the least, no
whit more pressing than were her books, are exceedingly tenacious of
their time, and exceedingly impatient of interruptions; and with too
many the home-calls come second to all personal interests. It was far
otherwise with Charlotte Tucker. Whatever had to be done, she was ready
to do it,--not one iota more ready to write her books, or to visit in
the Workhouse, than to teach the ‘Robins,’ to amuse visitors, old or
young, to entertain guests at dinner or luncheon, to take her part in a
family ‘glee,’ to join in merry games, to conduct friends on sight-seeing
expeditions. No matter what it might be, she did it willingly, throwing
her whole energy into the matter in hand, always at everybody’s service,
never allowing herself to appear worried or bored.
Despite her somewhat fragile appearance, and an appetite commonly small,
there must have been a marvellous amount of underlying strength,--of the
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