A Lady of England 36

A Lady of England 36

‘She rarely “preached” to one. I should say she rather suggested

little things that somehow were never forgotten. The letter I,

for example--when written with a capital letter--called for

playful comment. Up to the last I would often count in a fearful

manner the all too plentiful I’s in my letters to her....

 

‘My father remembers “Sister Char” as the life and soul of their

nursery circle in Portland Place,--how in the gardens close by

she used to lead their glees and songs.... _We_ knew what a great

hand Auntie Char was at games of all kinds. No one could play

like her. She seemed far younger than any child present, and was

quite an enthusiast in them, as in everything she undertook. No

one could play half-heartedly with her....

 

‘Auntie Char had a wonderful way of strengthening and

encouraging one to open out one’s heart to her, and a great

and rare capacity for putting herself in “her neighbour’s

shoes.”[20] It was during a visit to us, in the May of 1875,

that she acquired the pet name of “Fairy Frisket,”--the name of

one of her own works,--owing to her marvellous activity. She

would come home after a long day’s walking, and run lightly

upstairs, faster than we young ones cared to do. In many of

her letters to me from India she playfully alludes to this pet

name.’

 

 

III.

 

‘She never seemed to care a bit to receive any praise for her

books, and she never let writing interfere with any family

duties. She was wonderfully sweet-tempered, but there was no

weakness in her sweetness. If others were inconsiderate to her,

I never saw her resent it.... Her unconscious influence was, I

believe, much larger than she has ever dreamed. She was more

utterly regardless of personal ease and comfort than any one I

ever knew, but was ever ready to praise others....

 

‘My aunt had a guitar on which she enjoyed playing as far back

as I can remember, and on which she used to play to us with much

animation and impressiveness, singing to her own accompaniment;

but I never remember her playing to herself for her own personal

amusement. One of her songs I do not remember hearing from any

one else. The refrain in each verse was--“Till green leaves come

again.” ... Another song that she sang took my fancy,--I believe

it was an old-fashioned one in MS.,--and she at once copied it

for me, making time to do so amid the many things occupying her

at the time. Most people would have let me copy it for myself,

as I was quite a girl and had plenty of leisure; but she never

seemed to do things like other people....

 

‘Nothing that I can say would explain how beautifully unselfish

she was, how utterly regardless of herself, and thoughtful for

others. She was one of the few whom one could most truly call

_noble_, and yet so sweetly humble. I mourn her irreparable loss

all the more for the long parting since she left us for the

Mission-field abroad.’

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XIV

 

1875

 

AN UNEXPECTED RESOLVE

 

 

It is not quite easy to say at what precise date the idea first seriously

presented itself to the mind of Charlotte Tucker, that she might go out

to India as a Missionary. Some years earlier, after the death of her

sister Fanny, she had evidently regretted that she could not do so,

looking upon herself as too old. But the question again arose--Was she

really too old? That question Charlotte now faced steadily.

 

The plan of living in her brother’s house, never looked upon as entirely

permanent, had lasted several years; but various causes pointed to a

change before long as probably necessary. In January 1875, Mr. Hamilton,

who had long been in failing health, passed away; and Charlotte seems,

either in anticipation of the event, or directly after, to have had some

floating ideas of making a home with her widowed favourite sister. Here

also, however, there were certain difficulties in the way of an entirely

permanent arrangement; and meanwhile the thought of India was becoming

prominent.

 

Charlotte was now close upon fifty-four years old,--an age at which

few women dream of making an absolutely fresh start in life. Some

are and some are not elderly at that age; but as a general rule no

doubt a woman’s best and most vigorous days are then over, and she is

more or less disposed for an easy existence. Many at that period can

thoroughly enjoy travelling for pleasure. But to make a new home amid

new surroundings, to learn a new language, to enter upon a new line of

work,--these things after the fiftieth birthday have a somewhat alarming

sound.

 

Not so with A.L.O.E.! For her these fifty years and more of quiet English

existence had been years of preparation, of training, of patience. For

her parents’ sake she had dutifully held back, during the noontide and

early afternoon of her history, from much that she would fain have done;

and though the latter part of her ‘afternoon’ had been full and busy,

with freedom to do what she willed, yet even this was not enough. At

fifty-four she stood practically alone, with no near relative entirely

dependent on her kind offices. She was absolutely necessary to none. Had

she been, she would not have gone to India. But finding herself thus

unfettered, the thought came up,--Why not devote the Evening of her life

to Missionary work? Why not set an example to others who, like herself,

might with advancing years be left free of ties? Or at least, why not

put the matter to the test of actual trial, and prove whether or not

elderly women, and not younger ones only, might go forth to work among

the Heathen?

 

There was the question of health. Could she stand the trying climate of

India? Would she not be a mere burden on others?--an additional care

instead of a help?

 

Well, at least she could try. If her health failed to stand the climate,

she could but return home. If she succeeded, she might be the Pioneer of

many more, who would perhaps venture to tread in her footsteps.

 

Had it been a question of going out at the expense of the Society’s

funds, the Society might rightly have hesitated; but Charlotte Tucker

had enough of her own. While placing herself under the authority of the

Zenana Society, and obeying orders, she would pay her own way; therefore,

no risking of Missionary funds was involved.

 

No doubt she was peculiarly well adapted for the attempt. Although thin

and delicate-looking, she was distinctly wiry, with much underlying

strength, and an immense amount of vigour and vitality. A woman of fifty,

who can lightly dance the gavotte, with springs which a child cannot

emulate, is not quite an ordinary specimen of advancing years. The

failure of power which had followed upon the death of Letitia, lasting

more or less during some years, had now pretty well passed off; and there

seemed to be good promise of a healthy old age.

 

She was generally sound, with no especial delicacy; she did not suffer

from any tendency to headache; she was not fussy, or self-indulgent,

or dainty as to her eating, or particular as to personal comforts, or

squeamish as to her surroundings, or shy in making new friends, or

afraid of toil and trouble. All these things were in her favour. She

was in fact no timid shrinking Miss Toosey,--dear little old lady that

Miss Toosey was!--but a fine spirited specimen of A middle-aged Lady of

England,--well fitted, it might be, to become even then A Lady of India.

Those who think of following the example of A. L. O. E. ought to possess

at least some of her qualifications. Had a Miss Toosey, instead of a Miss

Tucker, been the Pioneer of elderly ladies in the Mission-field, the

attempt would have been a disastrous failure.

 

Although the matter was not definitely settled until the spring of 1875,

it had plainly been for some time in Charlotte’s mind as something more

than a bare possibility; for during many weeks she had been studying

Hindustani. She had, however, said not a word about it to any of her

relatives, beyond privately consulting her elder brother, Mr. Henry Carre

Tucker. She thought much, prayed much, and waited to be shown her right

path: meanwhile beginning to prepare for what might be her duty.

 

When at length she gave out her intention, as a matter already decided,

the announcement fell among friends and relatives like the bursting of a

bomb. Nobody had dreamt of such a career for ‘Auntie Char.’

 

[Illustration: LAURA

 

About the Year 1871]

 

The following letter contains her first intimation of what was coming to

her sister, Mrs. Hamilton:--

 

‘_March 24, 1875._

 

‘MY BELOVED LAURA,--I do not know when I shall send this, for

I hardly hope that when you know my plans for the future you

will say, as Henry did, a month ago, “Selfishly I should be

delighted,”--but I hope that when you have quietly thought and

prayed over the subject, you will not let your tender affection

make you wish to keep me back from the work for our dear Lord

for which I have for some time been preparing myself by hard

study.

 

‘Years ago I said that if I were not too old to learn a

new language I should probably--after sweet Fanny had

departed--have gone out as a Missionary. This year the

question came to my mind, _Am_ I really unable to learn a new

language? I find that I can learn, and the only real objection

to my going is taken away. Yes, sweet Laura, the _only real_

objection; for I can leave you rich in the devoted love of your

children. Thank God, _you_ are not lonely; and circumstances

might easily arise to make it undesirable that I should make a

third or fourth lady in--perhaps--a Curate’s dear little home.

 

‘I have not come to my present decision in a hurried moment.

In the second week of February I made my Missionary project