This beautiful album belonged to Charlotte Laura Beare (nee Cotton), whose daughter Georgina was my maternal Great-Grandmother, having married Edward Chichester Incledon-Webber. The blank album was presented to her by a sister - Augusta Cotton, I believe. It presents a record of mid-Victorian history, dress and humour. Of particular interest are the gently mocking references to the unusual and somewhat infamous monk known as Father Ignatius. In 2013 I had the album expertly rebound by Chris of Bookbinders of London Ltd, N5, and antique book repair doesn't get any better than this.
Charlotte married Major William Gabbett Beare (46th Rgmt) of Holland House, Kingsgate (Broadstairs), Kent, and at 34 Devonshire Place, off Marylebone Road, London. There are several sketches of Kingsgate in the album. Her maiden name was Cotton.
Here are some of Charlotte's charming paintings and, where indicated in the album, contributions by others.
The Album of
Charlotte Laura Beare
1857
described by Caroline Thomas
Poor old horse
One assumes the incident really happened. I wonder if the inscription is still at the foot of the cliff. Charlotte quotes it as: "Inscribed in memory of the poor old horse which took fright at modern inventions at Kingsgate, to wit the introduction of a steam ploughing machine, and fell from the cliff at and above this Inscription. Sept. 1868." Observe the sorrowful expression of the cliff 'face'!
There is another connection. In 1911, CLB's daughter Florence Beare gave my mother a beautiful Beau guitar, still in my possession. Here is her card, showing her London address as 5 Chesham Place, S.W. It survived my brother bashing it at Dover College, me strumming it in a school skiffle group and, more elegantly playing Croatian folk music on it with Dunav Balkan Group. Now it is retired with 'antique' status and two broken strings.
CRUEL BEHAVIOUR OF MRS HUSKISSON'S
PERFECT TREASURE OF A COOK
Might we have some peas for dinner today, Cook?
NO, my dear, NOT today!!
DREAMLAND IN KINGSGATE
Near the sparkling Kingsgate waters
Dwell the Major's pretty daughters;
The fairest maidens of this Ocean -
Fairest of Nereids, I've a notion,
Cannot with these of Earth compare
From the tips of their toes to the
tips of their hair.
"A.Y" (Amy, Charlotte Harriot's nickname)
The eldest they cannot come near -
We call her Clara Vere de Vere.
With her look aristocratic,
Those fair Nereids aquatic,
Can never never hope to vie,
And so poor things, they need not try.
Her eyes are large and dark and flashing,
Her step is high and proud and dashing,
And yet her voice is soft and low,
As ??? voices that I know,
And very sweet ones have I known
In days that have so swiftly flown.
"B....E" (Blanche)
The next has eyes perhaps as fine
That some might think almost divine,
But they are grave, as beaming full
Of tender thought, by memory brought,
She is sedately beautiful.
'Tis "The Madonna" she is called,
A name that suits her ??? well.
Within some Convent closely walled
In the deep shade of some low cell
I fancy such a pictured face
Might lose some Monk his chance of grace,
For ??? to the picture there,
His heart might ponder, and widely wander
From every proper kind of prayer.
"M..Y" (Mary)
The next is elegantly slight
Her auburn hair is golden bright
Where'r its folds just catch the light.
Her eyes are of a dovelike blue
But shaded to a deeper hue
By lashes silky, long and dark
That e'en a Spanish girl might mark
As something better than her own
Though dyed by a Castilian sun.
The pencil of that Hablot brown
Has arisen wild full half the Town,
With little heroines such as she
From "Dora" to sweet "Emily".
"F......E" (Florence)
The fourth is called the "little" duck
For reasons which I can't explore
For she has certes the good luck
To be the tallest of the four.
Hers are the sparkling laughing eyes
Sarcastic fun e'er lurking lies
Concealed beneath their harbouring lashes
Till like a dart it outward flashes.
And then her voice is heard in song
The moonlit Kingsgate shores along
Deep full and rich
The veriest witch
Among the singers of the waves
Those Syrens of the ocean caves
Might stay her voice and break her lyre
For very jealousy and ire.
Kingsgate Oct 1869 H. Humphrey
GOOD NIGHT & GOOD MORNING
A fair little girl sat under a tree
Sewing as long as her eyes could see;
Then smoothed her work and folded it right
And said "Dear work! Good night! Good night!"
Such a number of rooks came over her head,
Crying "Caw! Caw!" on their way to bed.
She said as she watched their curious flight
"Little black things! Good night! Good night!"
The horses neighed and the oxen lowed;
The sheep's "Bleat! bleat!" came over the road,
All seeming to say, with a quiet delight
"Good little girl!" Good night! Good night!"
She did not say to the sun "Good night!"
Though she saw him there, like a ball of light
For she knew he had God's own time to keep
All over the world, and never could sleep.
The tall pink foxglove bowed his head -
The violets curtsied and went to bed;
And good little Giselle tied up her hair,
And said on her knees her favorite prayer.
And while on her pillow she softly lay
She knew nothing more till again it was day;
And all things said to the beautiful sun
"Good morning! good morning! our work is begun!"
How I would love to know who this lady was. Maybe one of the sisters described in the poem 'Dreamland in Kingsgate'?
And here's another unnamed lady in her crinoline. I think it may be one of CLB's daughters, Helene Laura Beare.
Below left: The Right Honourable Louisa Barbara, Lady Vernon, Oct 1857.
On 31 August 2014, I took this album to the Antiques Roadshow and showed it to the Books expert. He was clearly impressed by its quality. If CLB had been a poorer artist it might fetch £500 in an auction, but her water colours are so beautifully executed, added to the historic interest about Father Ignatius and Marie Taglioni, that it could fetch £1,200. May her female descendants treasure it for centuries to come.
