Maisie Clifton - An Eulogy
I have read and I have heard a lot of eulogies in my time and the words of the eulogy of Maisie Clifton (1901 - 1972) strikes me as the best I have come across.
This eulogy makes me reflect on just two issues I have with eulogies in general.
Issue #1: Why is it that eulogies are expressed mainly (or perhaps only) at the deaths of the concerned persons? Why can’t we turn a eulogy into a lesson to be learned from the mistakes of the deceased?
Issue #2: Why can’t a funeral service be turned into a happy occasion to be celebrated as the deceased ascends to Heaven, so we Christians believe? Or, moving to a higher level of existence, as a Buddhist believes?
Now let us move on to hear what Harry Clifton says about his mother.
Harry spent more hours on the eulogy for his mother’s funeral than he had on any lecture, address or speech he had ever delivered in the past. His final draft, the fourteenth, in which he felt he had captured her indomitable spirit, ran for twelve minutes.
And in the Chinese Mandarin Language:
为了他母亲的葬礼，哈利花了更多时间在悼词上，而不是他过去曾做过的任何演讲，或演讲。 他的最终选秀，第十四次，他觉得自己已经抓住了她不屈不挠的精神，時間長度十二分钟。
And in Pinyin, if you are, like me, learning the Mandarin Language:
Wèile tā mǔqīn de zànglǐ, hā lì huāle gèng duō shíjiān zài dàocí shàng, ér bùshì tā guòqù céng zuòguò de rènhé yǎnjiǎng, yǎnjiǎng huò yǎnjiǎng. Tā de zuìzhōng xuǎnxiù, dì shísì ci, tā juédé zìjǐ yǐjīng zhuā zhùle tā bùqūbùnáo de jīngshén, shijian changdu shí’èr fēnzhōng.
Now in the Thai Language - another written language that I am trying my best to master.
สำหรับงานศพของแม่แฮร์รี่ใช้เวลาชื่นชมยินดีมากกว่าคำพูดหรือคำพูดใด ๆ ที่เขาเคยทำ ในร่างสุดท้ายของเขาที่สิบสี่เขารู้สึกว่าเขาได้จับวิญญาณของเธอไม่ย่อท้อเป็นเวลาสิบสองนาที
The google translation places the anglo version of this piece as follows: (and if you know the oral Thai language as little or as good as I have, this anglo version is nowhere close to the actual pronunciations)
S̄ảh̄rạb [I would have said ‘sumrub’ for สำหรับ] ngān ṣ̄ph k̄hxng mæ̀ ḥær̒ rī̀ chı̂ welā chụ̄̀nchmyindī mākkẁā khả phūd h̄rụ̄x khả phūd dı «thī̀ k̄heā khey thả nı r̀āng s̄udtĥāy k̄hxng k̄heā thī̀ s̄ib s̄ī̀ k̄heā rū̂s̄ụk ẁā k̄heā dị̂ cạb wiỵỵāṇ k̄hxng ṭhex mị̀ ỳxtĥx pĕn welā s̄ib s̄xng nāthī
[SOURCE: Jeffrey Archer’s Cometh the Hour, pp. 201 - 202.]
Harry then read 1Corinthians 13:4-13
4. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
5. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
6. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
7. It always protects, always trusts, always hope, always perseveres.
8. Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.
9. For we know in part and we prophesy in part,
10. but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears.
11. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.
12. Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
13. And now these three
‘How proud my mother would have been to see so many of you here today, some who have traveled from far and wide to celebrate her amazing life. “You just cannot fill the churches nowadays,” she used to say. I cannot understand it myself, because when I was a child the sermons went on for over an hour. Dear Mum,’ Harry said, looking up at the ceiling, ‘I promise mine won’t be over the hour, and by the way, the church is packed,’ A ripple of laughter broke out, allowing Harry to relax a little.
‘Maisie was born in 1901, in the reign of Queen Victoria, and died at the age of 71, during the reign of Queen Elizabeth the Second. My bookends, is how she used to describe the two Queens.
‘Maisie began life at 27 Still House Lane, in the back streets of the Bristol docks, and my father, Arthur Clifton, a docker, who was born in1898, lived at number 37. My father died when I was only one, so I never knew him, and the responsibility for upbringing me up fell squarely on the shoulders of my mother.
‘Maisie was never ambitious for herself, but that didn’t stop her spending those early years scrimping and saving farthings, yes, farthings, to ensure that I was never hungry, and never went without. Of course, I had no idea of the sacrifices she had to endure to make it possible for me to attend St Bede’s as a choral scholar, and later to go on to Bristol Grammar School before being offered a place at Oxford, a city she visited only once.
‘If Maisie had been born today, it would have been a city that would have welcomed her with open arms. How can I be so sure of that? Because at the age of sixty-two, when most people are preparing for retirement, Maisie enrolled at Bristol University, and three years later graduated with a first-class honors degree. She remains to this day the only member of the Clifton family to have managed that distinction. Imagine what she might have achieved if she had been born a generation later.
‘My mother was a regular churchgoer until the day she died, and I once asked her if she thought she’d go to heaven. “I certainly hope so,” she told me, “as I need to have a word with St Peter, St Paul and our Lord.” You will not be surprised to hear that I asked her what she intended to say to them. “I shall point out to St Peter that none of the women who were close to our Lord ever denied him, let alone three times. Typical man. And when it comes to St Paul, I shall ask him why it took him so long to get the message.” And our Lord? I asked her. “If you are the son of God, could you please point out to the Almighty that the world would be a far better place if there had only been one
‘When someone close to you dies, you remember all the things you wished you’d said and it’s suddenly too late to say.
‘I wish I’d understood, appreciated and been fully aware of the sacrifices my mother made, which have allowed me to live such a privileged life, a life I fear I sometimes take for granted.
‘When I first went to St Bede’s, dressed in my smart navy blazer and long grey trousers, we took the tram from Chapel Street, and I never understood why we got off a few hundred yards from the school. It was because my mother didn’t want the other boys to see her. She thought I would be ashamed of her.
‘I am ashamed,’ said Harry, his voice cracking, ‘I should have paraded this great lady, not hidden her. And when I went to Bristol Grammar School, she continued to work full-time as a waitress at the Royal Hotel during the day, and as a hostess at Eddie’s Club every evening. But, like St Peter, whenever any of my school chums asked if it was true that my mother worked in a nightclub, I denied her.
‘What hardships did she have to endure without ever once, ever once . . . burdened me with her problems. And now it’s too late to let her know.’ Harry’s head dropped for the second time. ‘To tell her … ‘
Here ends Harry Clifton’s eulogy of his mother. Harry was in tears gripping the sides of the pulpit. Giles rose slowly from his place, walked across to the pulpit and climbed the steps. He placed an arm around his friend’s shoulder and guided him back to his place in the front pew. [Source: Cometh The Hour by Jeffrey Archer pp. 202-204]
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Now comes my two issues mentioned much earlier in this article.
Issue #1: Why is it that eulogies are expressed mainly (or perhaps only) at the deaths of the concerned persons? Why can’t we turn a eulogy into a lesson to be learned from the mistakes of the deceased?
Yes, when I go and that is if I go peacefully after living on earth for longer than seventy-eight years, I wish that instead of looking telling the world of my achievements and my successes (if any) the audience can, for a change, concentrate on my failings and my failures and relate these to the younger generation in such a way that they can learn from the mistakes I have made in life.
Issue #2: Why can’t a funeral service be turned into a happy occasion to be celebrated as the deceased ascends to Heaven, so we Christians believe? Or, moving to a higher level of existence, as a Buddhist believes?
Yes, when I go and that is if I go peacefully after say an illness, I love to see the joy in the congregation, joyous celebration for one who knows that he shall never have any worry and that he shall no longer be burdened with the worldly problems.
The joyous hymns I like sung include the following two at least:
I believe for every drop of rain that falls
A flower grows
I believe that somewhere in the darkest night
A candle glows
I believe for everyone that goes astray
Someone will come to show the way
I believe
I believe
I believe above the storm the smallest prayer
Will still be heard
I believe that someone in the great somewhere
Hears every word
Every time…
God sent His son, they called Him Jesus
He came to love, heal and forgive
He lived and died to buy my pardon
An empty grave is there to prove my savior
Because He lives, I can face tomorrow
Because He lives, all fear is gone
Because I know He holds the future
And life is worth the living, just because He
How sweet to hold a newborn baby
And feel the pride and joy He gives
But greater still the calm assurance
This child can face
Because He lives, I can face tomorrow
Because He lives, all fear is gone
Because I know He holds the future
And life is worth the living, just because He
I’ll fight life’s final war with pain
And then, as death gives way to victory
I’ll see…
English