“Give her of the fruit of her hands: and let her own works praise her in the gates.”—Prov. xxxi. 31.
“Of feeble knees the strengthener,
The stay of timid hearts,
Does all her might go out with her
Who now to rest departs?
Nay, for the children of her love,
To their full stature grown,
Must learn amid their tears to prove
How they can go alone.”
Emily Hickey.
Fifty years of work! Of work that, had she been other than she was, might have been mere thankless drudgery; of work that, being what she was, remains a living influence, spreading, in ever-widening circles, to distances beyond compute. Fifty years of love, poured out from a heart often disappointed, but never embittered; often left unfilled, but never found empty; often strained to utmost tension, but never relaxing its high energy. Being as she was, refreshed by the living water, sustained by the bread of life, the strength was hers that knows neither drought nor famine.
For more than forty years she had worshipped in the same church—Holy Trinity—built by her friend the Rev. David Laing, and afterwards held by her friends, 380the Rev. E. Spooner, the Rev. Charles Lee, and Dr. Cutts.
To this altar she came, through all her working time, to renew the strength in which her work was done as “Christ’s faithful soldier and servant to her life’s end.” And here, when that end came, the last gleams of the dying year fell on the white blossoms that hid all that was mortal of that brave spirit, while the vast crowd knelt to give thanks for a life which had made all life so much the more worth living to themselves and to all women who should come after them.
“The good die never!” There can be no end to this high influence that for the half-century past has gone out, carrying with it all that is true, all that is pure, all that is lovely. It must still go on in the centuries to come in added power, since
“Good, the more
Communicated, more abundant grows.”
And yet, do we not too sadly feel that the end has come for us, who will not again, while we tarry here, look on that kind face, or feel the clasp of that hand that seemed strength itself? We rejoice in the joy of her immortality—here and hereafter—but for us, here and now, there is the suffering of this present time, which is “not joyous, but grievous.”
How much she did! She worked till the last; till those magnificent energies, which seemed inexhaustible, were at length worn out.
She “died in harness,” and we must not grudge her what she would have chosen. But yet, how we wish it might have been otherwise! That she might have rested in time, to have saved herself to be with us a little longer, an inspiration and strength to all; “a great moral force in the educational world;” an example to 381all teachers, as well as to her own staff and her own pupils; a joy to the friends who loved her; and to her own nearest and dearest——? But here we pause and are silent before her brother’s words: “I cannot speak of what she was—and what her memory will be—to her nearer relatives, and especially to us, her brothers.”
The details of the service in Holy Trinity and the concluding ceremony in the quiet churchyard at Theydon Bois, near her cottage at Epping, on the edge of the Forest, are given by eye-witnesses, happy in being permitted to be there to see and hear for themselves.
Never, it seemed to me then, could physical disability have pressed more heavily than during that week—from Christmas Eve to New Year’s Eve—when, although no farther distant than St. Leonard’s, I had to submit to be absent, while so many friends were doing honour to her whom we all loved and mourned.
The events of the three days, so full of emotion, could not be better told than as they are given in the “Memorials” compiled in the beginning of the year, by her old pupils—afterwards colleagues—Miss Edith Aitken, Mrs. W. K. Hill (Eleanor M. Childs), and Miss Sara A. Burstall, who record the scenes at Holy Trinity, at Theydon Bois, and on the first day of the re-opening of the schools.
THROUGH THE GRAVE AND GATE OF DEATH.
“It is the will of God that even to the most vigorous and faithful of His servants there shall come, sooner or later, weakness and decay of strength. There is nothing more simply sorrowful than this, and yet it is an integral part of the providence of the world. To the most fortunate and gifted life, full of great opportunities, to which the character and personality were equal, to a life blessed 382with health and power and love and success and a large measure of happiness, even to such a life comes old age, with its train of disappointment and feebleness. It is true that the waning of a noble life is often marked by a sweetening and mellowing of character, which is in itself a triumph and a glory; but still the growing earthly feebleness cannot be forgotten, and it is a sad thing to watch the face change, and to hear the voice ever weaker and the step ever feebler, and to know that strength is gone and will come back no more in this life. The grasshopper has become a burden; the night is at hand.
“During the last year we have shared in such growing sorrow, as we have watched the struggle of an eager and hopeful spirit against increasing physical pain and weakness. We have hoped against hope, for the spirit was still so willing, but the foreboding was always there, and in the last dark days of the old year the end came, irrevocably and, as it seemed, almost suddenly. No more alternations, no more struggles; all was over.
“What an oppression of loss and pain seemed to brood over us as we waited through that dark winter’s morning in the dim church full of mourning figures! Crowds of people witnessed to the wide-reaching influence of the life of which we were thinking. The solemn dignity of the occasion, as we caught a glimpse of one and then of another who had come, each from his or her important place and work, to take a part in this last ceremony of respect, recalled the importance of the life-work now over. Especially did the sight of such a veteran of the struggle as Miss Emily Davies bring to mind touching memories of the fight for an ideal waged in the beginning against great odds. Such had been this our leader—an important force in the world, a mind of originating insight, who had modified her age for good. But now all was over. We had had the privilege of being with her, but we should have it no more. Our lives for the future were to be poorer and smaller.
“The tolling bell seemed to beat out such thoughts as we waited. But these more general regrets are changed to the acuter stab of personal grief, as the coffin is carried in and passes us close. It is to this that the loved presence has come, and even this is for the last time. A hundred personal details come back—her dress, her favourite colours, her smile, the sound of her voice. Thus and thus we knew her—and shall know her no more.
“‘The best is yet to be.’ We believe it, but we loved her as she was.
“It is hard to control our voices, but we are still her army. It 383behoves us to show that we can respond to the word of command, and so we take our part in the service, and all goes on in its appointed order to the end. The coffin is carried out, and we disperse on our further journey, sad and dreary, down to Theydon Bois. Our minds are filled by thoughts of the past and of the future. To many of us the best part of our lives is associated with her. To how many has she not been a generous and inspiring friend, who brought out all our best by her very belief in it? How are we to go on without her? And how drearily ashamed we feel of our worst, which we can never now amend before her.
“It pleased God to let our final farewell be very beautiful. The churchyard at Theydon lies on the slope of a hill, and the grave is at the northern side of the low, red brick, country church. The short winter day was drawing to its close already, and the western sky was glowing with glorious red and gold. The procession was marshalled in the road below, and the white-robed clergy came down to meet us from out of the sunset light, as it seemed. Our hymns of rest and triumph felt right and fitting then, as we thought of her and not of ourselves. She had fought a good fight, and had finished her course. The country fields lay bare about us, and the branches of the trees, interlacing themselves between us and the evening sky, were leafless. But everything was touched with a most tender and beautiful light, as large, soft snow-flakes floated gently down on the violets and white spring flowers with which we covered her. And so we left her.”
“‘The souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, and there shall no torment touch them;
In the sight of the unwise they seemed to die, and their departure is taken for misery,
And their going from us to be utter destruction. But they are in peace,
For though they be punished in the sight of men, yet is their hope full of immortality.’”
Edith Aitken.
THE FUNERAL SERVICE.
“On the last day of the old year Holy Trinity Church, Kentish Town, was filled to overflowing with those who had met to pay their last tribute to her who had passed away from among us. The greater number of the mourners consisted, as was natural, of past and present pupils of the North London Collegiate and Camden Schools, but in addition there were representatives of all branches 384of education in the widest sense of the word. Among these we may mention Rev. T. W. Sharpe (H.M. Chief Inspector of Schools), Professor Hales (King’s College), Prebendary Whittington, Rev. Brooke Lambert, Rev. H. L. Paget, General Moberly (Vice-Chairman of the London School Board), Mr. Latham, Q.C. (representing the Clothworkers’ Company), Mr. Alfred Bevan (representing the Brewers’ Company), Mr. Elliott and Mr. Danson (Governors), Mr. Storr (Merchant Taylors’ School), Mr. Hinton (Haberdashers’ School, Hoxton), Dr. Evershed, Dr. J. Collins, Mr. Percy Bunting, Mr. Courthope Bowen, Mr. W. C. Bell (Treasurer of the Cambridge Training College), Miss Agnes Ward, Miss Hadland, Mrs. W. Burbury (Governor), Miss Prance (Governor), Miss Day (Greycoat School), Miss Andrews (Maida Vale High School), Miss Armstrong (Dame Alice Owen School), Miss Penrose (Bedford College), the Misses Metcalfe (Hendon), Miss Huckwell (Leamington), Miss Green (Blackburn) and Mrs. Mary Davies.
“Long before the time appointed for the service—10 a.m.—every seat in the church, which is said to hold about two thousand, was filled, while many people were standing in the aisles. As the coffin was brought in at the south door, the door by which Miss Buss had entered Sunday after Sunday from the time the church was built, the whole congregation rose to its feet, and remained standing until the mournful procession reached the chancel. It was impossible, even then, to realize that we should never again on earth see that familiar face, never again hear the kindly words that so often cheered and encouraged us in our darkest hours, making us feel that, after all, life was worth living, and that each one of us had her special work to do.
“All the arrangements had been most carefully planned before. The chancel, with the seats behind, was reserved for the family and immediate mourners, Governors of the Schools and representatives sat in the front seats, teachers and present pupils of the North London, all of whom carried white flowers, in the body of the church. The west gallery was appropriated to the Camden School, while the rest of the gallery and the side aisles were filled with old pupils and friends. The pall-bearers were:—
Professor Hill.
(Of University College, London.)
Dr. Garnett.
(Educational Adviser of the Technical Education Committee of the London County Council.)
385Mrs. Bryant.
(Vice-Mistress of the North London Collegiate School.)
Miss Lawford.
(Head-Mistress of the Camden School.)
Miss Hughes.
(Head of the Cambridge Training College.)
Miss Jones.
(Head-Mistress of Notting Hill High School and President of the Head Mistresses’ Association.)
Miss Emily Davies.
(One of the Founders of Girton College.)
Miss Beale.
(Head of the Ladies’ College, Cheltenham.)
Dr. Wormell.
(Head-Master of the Central Foundation Schools, Cowper Street, representing the College of Preceptors.)
Dr. Fitch.
(Member of the Senate of the University of London, representing the Teachers’ Guild.)
“Mrs. Green was at the organ, and the girls’ choir led the singing, which consisted of Psalm xxxix., the ‘Nunc Dimittis,’ and the hymns ‘The saints of God, their conflict passed,’ ‘Peace, perfect peace, in this dark world of sin,’ and ‘Now the labourer’s task is o’er.’
“After the service, which was conducted by the Vicar (the Rev. Dr. Cutts), Canon Browne, whose work in connection with the Cambridge Local Examinations brought him for so many years into such close contact with Miss Buss, delivered an address from the chancel steps. He said the last rites were often performed over those who were too young to have shown promise; over those who had shown promise, and were cut off, as it seemed, prematurely; over those who had lived longer, and had had no aim, done no work in life; over those who had had noble aims, and had been disappointed, or who, having seen the fulfilment of their aims, had outlived their friends, and died silent and alone. How exactly the opposite of all this was the record of Frances Mary Buss! She had great aims, she had seen a noble work perfectly done, she was surrounded to the last by affectionate friends. It was not too much 386to say that she was one of the most prominent actors in that which had changed the face of a large area of human life. There were many present who had played a large part in it, but he could not name the living. Miss Anne Clough and Miss Buss were, of those who had passed away, those who had developed the best of woman’s nature, the latent power and charm of that intellect which was so subtle in its intuition and so swift in its spring. Miss Buss had reduced the wear and tear of effort by the improvement of method, and had changed that which had been dull and flat and painful into brightness and interest. Thousands of girls’ lives had been made happier, hundreds of women were now doing congenial woman’s work through her means. It was difficult to believe that it had all grown from nothing in thirty years. It was not with her as with many—that others had laboured, and she had entered into their labours; she was herself the pioneer, and herself had crowned the work. It had not been done from policy; it had all come from love and sympathy, combined with that practical intuition which always lays its finger on the important point. Now her task was o’er, that faithful labourer, under whom a wilderness had grown into a garden, the garden had blossomed into flowers so fair, had borne fruit so sweet. It was the last day of the year, the eve of a New Year. The Church’s lessons brought before them that beautiful chapter of the Revelation which described the new heavens and the new earth. Miss Buss’ quiet and decided religious character enabled them to enter without hesitation on that branch of thought. Her religious character shone naturally throughout her educational work. They read of the garnishing of heaven with precious stones of various hues and many names, not there because of this hue or that, of this characteristic or the other, but because they were precious stones. In all reverent faith they followed in imagination the placing of their friend, now lost here, among the precious stones in heaven, and they might pray that of themselves it might be true that she was but gone before.
“The second part of the service was performed in the little churchyard of Theydon Bois, near ‘Boscombe.’ The journey seemed to be made doubly sad by the remembrance of the many delightful holidays we had spent at ‘The Cottage,’ and by all its associations; and yet we felt that we would rather she were laid to rest there, in the open country, than in a crowded London cemetery. ‘After life’s fitful fever she sleeps well.’
“The day was piercingly cold, in spite of the bright sunshine, and the ground was covered with snow. About six hundred went 387down to Theydon Bois by a special train, and the long procession was formed at the foot of the hill on which the church stands. Mr. Garrod, Secretary of the Teachers’ Guild, Mr. Foster Watson, Master of Method at Aberystwith College, Mr. Pinches, Treasurer of the College of Preceptors, and Mr. W. K. Hill, Head-Master of the Kentish Town School, acted as marshals. At two o’clock, the hearse and carriages with the chief mourners reached the spot, and the long train of mourners, headed by the clergy, the Rev. C. E. Campbell, Vicar of Theydon Bois, Canon Barker, and Canon Browne, moved slowly up the hill. Immediately behind the clergy came the girls’ choir, singing ‘How bright the glorious spirits shine.’ The voices, s............