The youngest of three daughters,[8] Charlotte probably passed all her youth in the county of Norfolk, the cradle of her family, under that gloomy sky, in that ever-moist climate, in the midst of those emerald green pastures which make that part of England one of the great agricultural districts. The tranquil, melancholy charm of the scenery there, the immense flocks of sheep and goats browsing in the pastures, the wide horizon, unlimited except by the heavy clouds which hang eternally over the land—all this fastened upon the imagination of the girl, naturally of a very enthusiastic temperament, and developed in her that indefinable charm which struck all who knew her. Her large eyes, enhanced by very marked eyebrows, had an infinitely sweet expression. The only existing portrait of her depicts her with her hair dressed in the fashion of the time—her dark curls lightly tied with a slender ribbon, and falling back, carelessly, on her forehead. She had a most original mind, a face which changed and lit up with every passing mood, and an expression all her own, which made her, as it were, a unique personality. All this is enough explanation of why, at nineteen, Charlotte Walpole went to London, with the idea of making use of her talents on the stage.
The capital of England could then boast of only three theatres, of which the most frequented, Drury Lane, which ranked as Theatre Royal, is still in existence, and preserves intact its ancient reputation. It was there that, on October 2, 1777, at the opening of the theatrical season, Miss Walpole made her first appearance in a piece called Love in a Village,[9] a comedy probably in the same genre as those of O’Keefe, and then very much to the public taste, which was growing weary of the brutal and licentious farces of the preceding centuries. Five days later Miss Walpole reappeared in The Quaker, and the week after she was seen in the role of “Jessica” in The Merchant of Venice, one of Shakespeare’s masterpieces. After having played, in the spring of 1778, in The Waterman, her success seemed assured; on May 2, Love in a Village was given again for her benefit, and she then filled to perfection the part of “Rosetta”; the season terminated ten days later with a representation of The Beggars’ Opera, by John Gay. There can be no doubt that the young actress had found her vocation, and that, moreover, with the consent of her family. But, as a matter of fact, there did not then prevail in England the sort of disfavour that so often attaches to a theatrical career in a certain set of society. Miss Walpole’s experience is a proof of this. During the summer, which she most probably spent in the country, she sought to cultivate her talents, and so well did she succeed that in the season, which reopened on September 15, 1778, she was seen again in London, eager to gather fresh laurels. This time she appeared in costume, in a sort of operetta entitled The Camp, which had a tremendous success all that winter. The piece, an imitation of Sheridan by Tickell, represented the arsenal and the camp at Coxheath, and Miss Walpole, as “Nancy,” took the part of a young soldier, and filled it most admirably, a contemporary author informs us.[10] We have found an engraving which represents her in this costume, doubtless a souvenir of the plaudits which she then received. In the month of April, 1779, she appears again in other pieces by Farquhar. After this, the bills for us have nothing to say; Miss Walpole’s name is not to be found in them.
W H Bunbury Delinᵗ. Watson & Dickinson Excudᵗ.
Charlotte Walpole, in “The Camp.”
(After an engraving in the British Museum.)
[To face page 12.
To what must one attribute this sudden silence, this disappearance from the stage, just when so fair a future seemed opening before the actress? To a determination brought about by her very success itself and by the charm she exercised. Several times during the winter a young man had been seen at Drury Lane, who occupied a front stall and watched very keenly the acting of the graceful young recruit of Coxheath; so that there was no very great astonishment expressed when, on June 18, 1779, The Gentleman’s Magazine, in its society column, announced the marriage of Sir Edward Atkyns with Miss Charlotte Walpole, of the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane.[11] “The pretty Miss Atkyns”—that was henceforth to be her appellation in London, and all over Norfolk!
If the Walpoles could boast of an illustrious descent, the Atkyns’ in this respect were in no wise inferior to them. In this family, where the Christian names are handed down from generation to generation, that of Edward is, as it were, immutable! Illustrious personages are by no means wanting. An Atkyns had been Chancellor of the Exchequer in the seventeenth century; his son had built a splendid manor-house, Ketteringham, in the same county of Norfolk; at his death he left it to his grand-nephew, who, in his turn, bequeathed it to the fortunate husband of Miss Walpole.
The young couple took up their abode in this antique mansion of Ketteringham Hall, the name of which will often recur in this narrative. They appear to have lived peacefully there for some years, coming only for a few weeks in mid-winter to London. “Happy is the nation that has no history,” says the proverb; and it is equally true that happy folk have none. So we will certainly not, in the absence of any material, create one for these young people.