THE LAST GREAT SORROW
With the coming of autumn, accounts of Mrs. Hamilton’s state grew steadily1 worse. In the middle of October Miss Tucker went for a few days to Rawal Pindi; and the last letter which she received there, before starting on her return journey, prepared her for the coming blow. Arriving at Batala station in the early morning, her first question was—
‘Is there a telegram?’
There was a telegram, and it was given to her immediately. Before seeing a word, Miss Tucker knew what the missive had to tell,—knew that her dearly loved sister had passed away. She opened it, and burst into a flood of tears. Reaching home, Miss Dixie led her to her own room, and there left her for a little while alone.
Probably no sorrow in all her lifetime, except the death of her Father and the death of Letitia, had touched her so closely as this sorrow; and even they were not the same, because through them she always had still her Laura. Now the sense of loneliness pressed upon her heavily. Whatever she had thought, whatever she had wished, whatever had aroused her interest or appealed to her sympathies, the immediate2 impulse had ever been to tell it to Mrs. Hamilton,—perhaps even more during[492] these long years in a far-off land, than in her English life. But indeed from very childhood, from the time when Laura was a little rosy3, sweet-tempered, merry maid of four, and Charlotte was a wild-spirited, impulsive4, and ambitious child of eight, the tie between them had been of a very unusual nature. They did not love merely as sisters, but as the nearest and dearest of intimate personal friends. What made the one happy made the other happy. What grieved the one grieved the other.
And now for a while the tie was seemingly broken; intercourse6 was at an end. True, Charlotte Tucker had been for sixteen long years and more separated by land and ocean from her sister. But the communion of mind with mind had been incessant7 throughout. True, the break was for a very little while. But this she could not possibly know. Old as she was, old in some respects beyond her years, she yet had a strong constitution, and a marvellous amount even now of wiry vigour8. Weak she might be, in a sense; nevertheless she could get through a round of work daily which few women of seventy would dream of attempting. It was well within the bounds of possibility that her life might be extended through another ten or twelve years, or even longer.
‘She felt her sister’s death most dreadfully,’ one of her nieces has said. Yet she did not lie crushed beneath the weight of her grief. Work had still to be done; and others had to be thought of and comforted.
On the very day that she received the telegram she wrote to Mrs. Hamilton’s daughter a letter full of sympathy for her niece’s loss, scarcely mentioning her own.
‘I would take you as it were into my arms, ... and weep with you, so that I might possibly even remind you of the sympathy of the precious Mother, whom you have not lost, but parted with for a little while. O, when you meet in Eternity9, what a little while it will appear!... You have the blessing10 of holy memories;[493] you know that you were a great comfort to the precious Invalid11; and you have the joy of hope, the hope of re-union. We are only pilgrims on the same road; and one arrives before the other. Both have the same Home.
‘“And who can tell the rapture12, when the circle is complete,
And all the Family of God around the Father meet?”
’ ... It will be a solace13 to you to look after your beloved Mother’s poor. I am sure that many had cause to bless her. All her works of love done so quietly and unostentatiously; but every one marked down in God’s “book of remembrance.” What a wonderful joy the opening of that book will be! Little kindnesses, acts of love, words of holy counsel, all marked down, not one forgotten.... Try to realise your Mother’s happiness! Has she not looked on the Lord Jesus, heard His Voice, received His welcome?’
And again on the 27th of October:—
‘Try, dear one, to comfort others; and then you will find comfort yourself. This is a world of suffering; and the best Memorial to your precious Mother will be something that will be a blessing to others. To think of what she would have approved will be a solace to your mind.’
On the same day she wrote to her nephew, the Rev14. W. F. T. Hamilton: ‘I go on with my daily Mission work; it seems what I have specially15 to live for. Is it not possible that your sainted Mother takes an interest in it still?’
In the first letter to Mrs. J. Boswell, after receiving the telegram, she spoke16 more openly of her own feelings:—
‘Oct. 23.— ... Your letter to Lettie, which I saw at Pindi, before my own followed me there, quite prepared me for Edith’s thoughtful telegram. I received that telegram at the Batala station, after my long dark night’s journey back from Pindi. I thank and bless God for my precious sister’s bliss17; but to me the blank——! I suppose that the funeral will be to-morrow; in thought I follow my poor bereaved18 Leila,—but my mind dwells less on the grief of those left, than the joy of her who is with her Saviour19. I thanked God for her to-day at Holy Communion.
‘I hope that there will be no unnecessary gloom to-morrow. It[494] seems to me so incongruous to throw a heavy black pall20 over the dear form, when the spirit is wearing the shining white robe. I hate black,—the colour of sin and spiritual death! My own beloved sister had nothing to do with either. My tears fall as I write; but I dare not, cannot, murmur21; though life seems to me a weary pilgrimage. I am very home-sick, my Bella; but the Lord will call me when He knows that I am ready. He gives me some work to do for Him. I must live for that.’
And again, on the 4th of November:—
‘This has been a year of trials. Since I reached seventy, I feel as if my path had grown steeper, and flowers wither22. But when the summit of the Hill is reached—what joy! I can hardly help envying my sweet Laura; and, oh, I am thankful that she was spared acute suffering! Her end—as regards this world—was indeed peace; her happiness will be never-ending. You see that I am again at Futteyghur, for about five days, to keep Miss Key company.... It was no sacrifice to me to come out to the village, for I was glad to be in a very quiet place just now. Batala is too full of friends and too cheerful for my present mood. Work is congenial; not cheerful meetings. Mrs. Corfield gave a sort of Concert on Wednesday, to which every one was invited; but I, of course, stayed at home. There is no one but Daisy Key and myself here.’
From the Journal entries it is evident that Miss Tucker gave herself only one clear day of rest—and that day a Sunday—for indulgence in any wise of her sorrow. She had the telegram on a Saturday; and on Monday the usual round of visiting went on.
‘Oct. 20.[141]— ... My precious Laura departed.’
‘Oct. 22.—Returned to Batala. Telegram.’
This is the brief Diary notice of what occurred.
The next few months were marked by no very especial events; only the usual ups and downs, anxieties, disappointments, encouragements, of Missionary23 work.[495] Missionaries24 came and went as usual; and partings took place, some of which tried her much. Miss Eva Warren, who had spent several weeks with her in 1889, came in November to be a permanent inmate25 of ‘Sunshine’; no small pleasure to Miss Tucker. But Miss Warren, like so many others, broke down under the Panjab climate; and in the spring of 1893 she had to give up her post and return home.
In April 1893 Miss Tucker wrote to her niece, Miss L. V. Tucker:—
‘Though I have written playfully to your father, I am not in a playful mood. This is such a year of partings for your poor old Auntie. You know about my Louis and Lettie; then energetic Minnie Dixie left us; to-day I go to the station for the last look of the dear, good Corfields ... and their three fine children, accompanied by Rosa Singha, who has been such a help and comfort here. On Monday week sweet Eva Warren, one of my most lovable companions, leaves me.... I do not expect to see her again on earth. Next month Rowland Bateman, my very tip-top favourite amongst all Missionaries, is to start for England. What a blessing it is that there is One Friend Who says, “I will never leave thee, nor forsake”; “Even to hoar hairs I will carry you”!’
A few slight recollections of Miss Warren’s may well come in here. They are of particular interest, being almost entirely26 of this last year of Miss Tucker’s life, after the death of Mrs. Hamilton. The two had been very little together before November 1892, when Miss Warren returned from eighteen months’ sick-leave, to be again in three months invalided27.
‘She was very impulsive,’ Miss Warren says. ‘We used to say of her sometimes that she needed cool young heads to guide her. Her energy was very remarkable28. During the last cold weather I was with her, I could see how much she felt the cold, but she would not give in in the least.... Being an Honorary Missionary, she was very scrupulous29 about not taking any extra privileges in the[496] way of holidays.... My impression is that she had formerly30 known the language better than she did latterly. In spite of her efforts not to forget what she had learned, some had slipped away from her. She said to me one day: “I speak Hindustani as the Duke of Wellington used to talk French.” “Oh,” I said, “how was that?” “Bravely!” she said. She had a very merry way of laughing, when anything amused her.
‘She said to me once: “I think what is wanted out here is—Missionaries’ graves. Not the graves of young Missionaries, who have died here, but the graves of old Missionaries, who have given their whole lives for these people!” ... She was very humble31 about her own work, and used sometimes to be quite depressed32 after reading accounts of other people’s successful work, thinking that she had met with no success.’
Miss Warren relates also how she would not unfrequently say: ‘So-and-so is one of those people who think me a great deal better than I am.’ Her conversation was still very bright and full of interest; the active mind had by no means parted with its vigour. Sometimes she would talk eagerly about old days, and tell stories of the Duke of Wellington, a subject which always aroused her. Or again she would plunge33 into the topic of Shakespeare’s Plays. Or she would read some of her favourite Spurgeon’s Sermons. Another pet book of hers was Baxter’s Saints’ Rest; and this she read through with Miss Warren. Occasionally still she would read aloud one of her own stories in the evening. Happily, she retained her old love of games; and they must have been a great relaxation34 after the hard day’s work. Sometimes, when Miss Warren had been reading or studying, she would say: ‘Now you must come and frisk a little!’
The old untidiness in dress had never been overcome; and the mixture of colours was often remarkable. But[497] though the clothes might not be artistically35 chosen, or put on with great neatness, they were always daintily clean,—no matter how many years they might have been in use.
Thin and fragile-looking as Miss Tucker had always been, she was by this time hardly more than mere5 skin and bone; and her face was singularly covered all over with fine wrinkles. This it was, no doubt, which helped to give her the appearance, spoken of by so many, of being far older than she really was,—rather like ninety than like seventy. The vigour and energy which she still retained were, however, certainly not like ninety,—or even like seventy.
Here are a few more selections from the Journal in the year 1893,—the closing year of Charlotte Tucker’s Indian life:—
‘Feb. 21.—Village. B. Saw fourteen girls; only eleven worthy36 of being counted. Heard of five more. C. D. Did not see him, but E., F., and another familiar face. Men and women listened to story of Knocking, etc. Some man said, did not understand me. I repeated John iii. 16, and asked E. to repeat it too. He did so, and no one could pretend not to understand. I asked E. to instruct them; he said simply that it was difficult for a Hindu to teach about Christ, and twice said that a Christian37 preacher should be sent. Hindu Bibis nice. Seeing the picture of Knocking, they seemed to understand; and one or two appeared to have opened the door of the heart....’
‘Feb. 22.—G. H. Gentle, pleasing. I lent her Stories for Women. J. nicer than I have ever found her. K., a delightful38 visit. Her husband, L. M., a fine-looking man, has returned, and the family are so happy. I saw first one, then another child, on the father’s knee; the sweet wife’s face is full of pleasure. L. M. says that he is going to be a Christian.... His brother, N. O., seems a thoughtful, nice man. He is puzzled about God’s having a Son, but told me that he did not ask questions for controversy39, but wishing to be instructed....’
‘March 27.—Village. P. Sirdar’s house. Pretty bibi, not attentive40, and bhatija ill-mannered. Other boys listened, specially nice R.[498] ... Take more Urdu and Gurmukhi, and a little Hindi next time. Gave three Gospels and other books. Weather cold.’
‘May 19.—S. T. Charming. U. V. sixteen years old. Appears to be the wife of the uncle of some and grandfather of others, in the house.... Has Gospel and Pilgrim’s Progress. Read and translated to me some pages of latter, with great emphasis. Seems a believer. I have sent her Psalms41 in Hindi....’
‘June 15.—Adopted Lefroy as Nephew.... Fancy-fair.’
‘June 17.—With W.’s bibi and Ayahs, Ascension and Pentecost. Evening walk, met two respectable-looking men. Had Urdu and Hindi Gospels in my hand. One man’s glance at Urdu encouraged me to offer it. Man much pleased. Talked English; in some way belongs to Viceroy. Wished to give me something for Gospel. I said that I did not sell, but gave it with pleasure. Other man readily received Hindi Gospel. A little farther met with a curious-looking man, with appearance of a devotee. Offered him Gurmukhi Gospel. Accepted eagerly, and, to my surprise, took my hand, and said earnestly in English, “Thanks—dear—Madam!” Lord, bless Thy Word!’
‘June 27.—Returned from Simla. Happy journey downhill with dear Lefroy. I have left Batala work for four weeks and four days.
‘June 28.—Full of difficulties. Lord, help me! CLOSED DISPENSARY.’
‘Aug. 31.— ... Here closes August, a month of Blessings43....’
‘Oct. 28.—Village. P. started for V. But all V.’s inhabitants seemed to have turned out for the funeral of a young man. Probably eighty or a hundred present. I turned to the left, where about forty women and girls were standing44 or seated on the ground. I repeated twice over to them, not singing, a little hymn45 which I had made; also the precious verse, “God so loved.” Had not only good listening, but some of the women repeated after me the burden of the hymn. I had chest-cold, so could not have sung without coughing.’
The last page of Miss Tucker’s Diary, which follows immediately after this entry of October 28, is reproduced in facsimile.
Writing to Miss Minnie Dixie on July 21, 1893, she asked: ‘Have you heard that I have a new nephew, Mr.[499] Lefroy? He is Irish, of Huguenot descent.... He is a gifted man, and a devoted46 Missionary.’ Mr. Lefroy, belonging to the Cambridge Delhi Mission, which is in connection with the S.P.G., has been mentioned in an earlier letter as arguing for over five successive hours with Muhammadans in a mosque48. This was probably the latest of her numerous Indian ‘adoptions.’
She was for months in much trouble about the Dispensary, as it seemed impossible to find any one, European or Indian, capable of undertaking49 it and also free to do so. The attendance had been good; often more than a hundred women in one day coming for help; and Miss Tucker was exceedingly desirous to keep it open. But so many had broken down, or were absent on furlough, that for a while the closing proved unavoidable.
That, from time to time, Miss Tucker suffered from depression and moods of sadness, there can be no question. She never allowed such moods to interfere50 with her work; but she was not always in a state of high spirits and rejoicing. If nothing else showed this, it would be plain from certain brief passages in her journal, occurring at intervals51,—sometimes at long intervals. Such passages as these speak plainly:—
‘1888.—I have suffered a good deal from bodily languor52 and mental depression.’ ‘1888. Depression has overtaken me. Thank God, not doubt or despair.’ ‘1891. Felt the weight of years much; work a struggle.’ ‘1892. I begin my seventy-second year with a sense of weakness almost amounting to exhaustion53.’
But these and others of the same description were exceptional. In a general way her steadfast54 courage and cheerfulness were remarkable.
On the 30th of August 1893 she wrote to Mr. Bateman in a strain as cheery as ever, despite the weight of years and worries:—
[500]
‘O my dearest Rowland,—So you take to lecturing your ancient Auntie, because she has come down to the Plains, where even an old woman is needed, instead of being a weak, languishing55, fine lady up at Simla, where she was not needed one bit. Why, I am ever so much more frisky56 here, more cheerful and well, as well as more useful. Barring a few infirmities of age, I am in as good health, I think, as I ever was in England. I paid a good visit to-day to a village about four miles off, and am none the worse. Why, Rowland, I am actually the only Missionary, man or woman, now in Batala; and I have not dear Babu Singha, for he is at Chamba. Who would there be to escort our little train of bibis and bachelors to Chapel57 every afternoon, if an old dame58 were not here? I feel like a hen with chickens; and Herbert said that we look like a school. We are sometimes the better part of the congregation; for we have little girls home from school, and expect more here, and two little boys also from Narowal. Batala without a Miss T. would be like a teapot without a top.
‘But you must not fancy that I am alone. Mr. Clark has considerately sent me a lovely young German lady, to keep house for me, which she does very nicely, and I am becoming a little fatter. I often take her to Zenanas with me; but there she is rather a hindrance60 than a help.... People will stare at her, instead of listening to me. She cannot help being attractive. She is very happy with me; but of course, as she does not do Mission work, this arrangement must not continue after Miss Clarke comes back from the Hills.
‘Now I hope that you are satisfied, dear Rowland, that there has been no foolish imprudence, or worshipping of her old broken net, on the part of your ever attached
Auntie.
‘Kind love to Helen. Mr. Gray is to come for next Sunday’s services!’
On the 13th of October, in a letter to Miss Edith Tucker, she observed: ‘I have such a nice Missionary companion, Miss Gertrude Clarke.... Batala is filling again; it was so empty during the holidays, that, had not Miss L. been sent to keep me company, I should have had no European within twenty miles. I was sole Missionary here.’
On the 31st of the same month, October, she wrote to Miss Minnie Dixie:—
[501]
‘I made a grand expedition last week,—I have still four days of my six weeks’ holiday left; but as we enter November to-morrow, I am not likely to take them. I actually went to Bahrwal, and saw the Consecration61 of Mr. and Mrs. Perkins’ choice little church; simple, but in nice taste.... The dear Bishop62 was of course there, and held a Confirmation63 Service in the afternoon, at which about twelve or fourteen Peasant converts were received. I saw a good many friends....
‘I send you a little hymn, which you may like to sing. It is perhaps the last thing which may be composed by your affectionate aged42 Auntie,
C. M. Tucker.’
From these words it would seem as if already some dim sense had come that her time on Earth was nearly over. She was indeed drawing very close to the dark River, which to her did not look dark but bright; and perhaps her eyes had already caught the ‘glitter’ of its waters. A friend, writing soon after, observed: ‘She had been growing more and more conscious of weakness, if not actually weaker, and was looking forward eagerly to release.’ In the month of November came what she was wont64 to call ‘her Indian Birthday,’—the day on which she had first landed on Indian shores, eighteen years before. And, as she soon after said, when ill, though not yet so ill as to cause anxiety: ‘When the Anniversary of my arrival in this country came round this year, I felt that my work was done, and that I should not live to see another.’
To some minds it may appear as if this perpetual longing47 for death contained something of a morbid65 and unhealthy nature. No doubt, as a general rule, it is perfectly66 natural to cling to life, to shrink from death; and where a desire for the latter exists, it often is romantic and unnatural67, or else it arises from impatience68 of life’s troubles, and from a wish to escape those troubles. This, however, was not the case with Charlotte Tucker. Her romance was never unhealthy romance; she was not cowardly, nor was she in the least morbid. On the contrary, she was thoroughly69 healthy, high-spirited, vigorous in body and[502] mind,—exceptionally vigorous for her years, through the greater part of middle life and old age, till within a short time before her death. And although she had certainly numerous trials in the course of her seventy-two years,—as who has not?—hers was in many respects a very happy life. She had freedom from money cares; she had plenty of interests; she had success in her pursuits; she had abundance of loving and steadfast friends; she had, above all, one most satisfying intimacy70; and, in addition to these things, she had a natural buoyancy, a keen sense of fun, a ready appreciation71 of the ridiculous, which in themselves would brighten life, and which are not characteristics usually found in morbid and self-centred people.
What was unusual in her was the strong and intense realisation of the Other World. Spiritual things to her were absolutely real. That which is unseen was to her as if seen. The love of Christ was more to her than the love of all earthly friends. Paradise was more to her than Earth. It was not that she did not love Earth, but that her love for Heaven was greater. It was not that she could not enter into the bright things of this world, but that she found the things of the Other World brighter still. She could never be satisfied with the present life; because she was always craving72 for the higher existence, always longing to rise ‘nearer—nearer’ to God. She was like a caged lark59, impatient for freedom. And at last, after all these years of waiting, the time was come.
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steadily
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immediate
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rosy
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impulsive
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mere
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intercourse
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incessant
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vigour
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eternity
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blessing
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invalid
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rapture
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solace
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rev
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specially
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spoke
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bliss
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bereaved
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saviour
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murmur
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wither
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missionaries
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inmate
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entirely
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remarkable
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scrupulous
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formerly
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relaxation
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delightful
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controversy
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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psalms
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| n.赞美诗( psalm的名词复数 )；圣诗；圣歌；(中的) | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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mosque
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| n.清真寺 | |
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undertaking
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| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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languor
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| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
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exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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steadfast
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| adj.固定的，不变的，不动摇的；忠实的；坚贞不移的 | |
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languishing
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| a. 衰弱下去的 | |
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frisky
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| adj.活泼的，欢闹的；n.活泼，闹着玩；adv.活泼地，闹着玩地 | |
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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dame
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| n.女士 | |
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lark
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| n.云雀，百灵鸟；n.嬉戏，玩笑；vi.嬉戏 | |
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hindrance
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| n.妨碍，障碍 | |
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consecration
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| n.供献，奉献，献祭仪式 | |
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bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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confirmation
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| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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craving
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| n.渴望,热望 | |
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