Fanny's exemplary death

I've just read a blog post in Alison Bailey Castellina's Between Worlds. It's about Fanny Dickens, Charles' talented older sister, about whom, I'm ashamed to say, being a former English teacher, I knew next to nothing. 

"She was two years his elder, a child prodigy, who was trained at the Royal Academy of Music and studied under Beethoven's pupil. As an adult, long before feminism, she taught music at the Royal Academy.
"Charles Dickens was not the only gifted person in his family. Charles grew up in Fanny's shadow, in terms of talent. He was rather jealous of his parents' focus on her gifts and future - but still loved her dearly. She became a converted believer, a non-conformist. She tragically died an exemplary death aged only 38, leaving young children."

from Wikipedia en.org

Alison also gives a link to the letter that Dickens wrote to his friend, John Forster, after his last visit to Fanny, when she was dying of tuberculosis. Being interested in the idea of "an exemplary death" I clicked on the link. "I asked her whether she had any care or anxiety in the world. She said No, none. It was hard to die at such a time of life, but she had no alarm whatever in the prospect of the change; felt sure we should meet again in a better world; and although they had said she might rally for a time, did not really wish it. She said she was quite calm and happy, relied upon the mediation of Christ, and had no terror at all. She had worked very hard, even when ill; but believed that was in her nature, and neither regretted nor complained of it. Burnett (her husband) had been always very good to her; they had never quarrelled; she was sorry to think of his going back to such a lonely home; and was distressed about her children, but not painfully so." 

Not that the meeting was devoid of emotion. Far from it. The letter reveals the emotion on both sides. Fanny, "though she shed tears sometimes, clearly impressed upon me that her mind was made up, and at rest" and for Charles, "God knows how small the world looks to one who comes out of such a sick-room on a bright summer day. I don't know why I write this before going to bed. I only know that in the very pity and grief of my heart, I feel as if it were doing something."

I'm reminded of St Paul: "If in Christ we have hope in this life only, we are of all people most to be pitied.... But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep." Fanny wasn't wrong.