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Title: Frances Mary Buss - and her work for education
Author: Ridley, Annie E.
Language: English
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FRANCES MARY BUSS
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
Photo. by Russell and Sons.
Yours always [** Illegible]
Frances M. Buss
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
FRANCES MARY BUSS
AND HER WORK FOR EDUCATION
BY
ANNIE E. RIDLEY
“We work in hope”
THE SCHOOL MOTTO
WITH PORTRAITS AND OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS
LONDON
LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO.
AND NEW YORK
1895
All rights reserved
------------------------------------------------------------------------
PREFACE
In a life written by a friend for friends there must of necessity be
more of the intimacy of private friendship than in a record written
dispassionately for an unknown public. The world in general knows
Frances Mary Buss as a public worker—capable, energetic, successful. By
her friends she was loved as one of the most womanly of women—true, and
tender, and loyal. Her work, to which all women of this generation owe
so much, must assume prominence in the story of her life; but what is
most desired is to show her as she was to her friends.
My warmest thanks are here offered to all who have so freely and so
kindly helped me in this labour of love: first, to Miss Buss’ own family
and personal friends, and to old pupils; to Mrs. Bryant, D.Sc., and the
members of the staff in both schools; and, for many valuable educational
details, to Miss Emily Davies, Miss Beale, Mrs. William Grey, Miss
Shirreff, Miss Mary Gurney, Miss Agnes J. Ward, Miss Hughes, and Dr. and
Mrs. Fitch.
A. E. R.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
INTRODUCTORY—THEN AND NOW 1
BOOK I.
EARLY LIFE.
I. CHILDHOOD 25
II. GIRLHOOD 41
III. INFLUENCE 58
IV. HELPFULNESS 73
BOOK II.
PUBLIC WORK.
I. TRANSITION 87
II. “WE WORK IN HOPE” 103
III. “THE SISTERS OF THE BOYS” 117
IV. TIMELY HELP 131
V. TRIUMPH 146
VI. WITH HER FELLOW-WORKERS 166
VII. LIFE AT MYRA LODGE 181
VIII. EARLY EDUCATIONAL IDEALS 200
IX. PRACTICAL WORK 215
X. THE HEAD-MISTRESSES’ 231
ASSOCIATION
XI. UNIVERSITY EDUCATION FOR WOMEN 252
XII. TRAINING COLLEGES FOR TEACHERS 273
XIII. GENERAL INTERESTS 287
BOOK III.
LATER YEARS.
I. IN THE HOLIDAYS 309
II. ROME 321
III. SOCIAL LIFE 336
IV. FRIENDSHIPS 349
V. REST 366
VI. “AND HER WORKS DO FOLLOW HER” 379
------------------------------------------------------------------------
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
FRANCES M. BUSS Frontispiece
FRANCES M. BUSS IN 1860 AND 1872 87
THE LOWER SCHOOL 131
THE GREAT HALL, NORTH LONDON COLLEGIATE 162
SCHOOL FOR GIRLS
THE GYMNASIUM, NORTH LONDON COLLEGIATE 200
SCHOOL FOR GIRLS
NORTH LONDON COLLEGIATE SCHOOL FOR GIRLS 214
MISS BUSS AND DR. SOPHIE BRYANT 273
------------------------------------------------------------------------
ERRATA.
Page 1, line 2, for “July 29” read “July 18.”
Page 29, line 12, for “lighted” read “lifted.”
Page 39, line 25, for “to play” read “for play.”
Page 111, line 27, for “lady on” read “lady in.”
● Transcriber’s Note:
○ These corrections have been applied to this electronic version of
the book—Oct. 25, 2019.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
INTRODUCTORY.
THEN AND NOW.
“Educate women, and you educate the teachers of men; if the
child is father to the man, the woman forms the man in educating
the child. The cause of female education is then, even in the
most selfish sense, the cause of mankind at large.”—C. G.
NICOLAY.
Gracious speech can seldom have been more truthful than when the Prince
of Wales said, on July 18, 1879, that few of their many public functions
had afforded the Princess and himself more gratification than the
opening of the great hall, given by the Clothworkers’ Company to the
North London Collegiate School for Girls, a ceremony putting the final
touch to the work of so many years.
It would not be easy to find a more attractive sight than this spacious
building, filled with its five hundred happy young girls, either on
“Founder’s Day,” when, decked in the school flower, we see them in that
April mood in which
“The heart with rapture fills,
And dances with the daffodils;”
or when, on Prize-day, in the glory of summer roses, their jubilant
young voices ring out in the favourite school-song, as, with fearless
and confident eyes, they look “Forty years on!” while their elders,
looking back down that long vista, think of the difference they can
remember between _Then_ and _Now_.
It was in this hall, on the prize-day of 1892, that the chairman, Mr.
Fearon, drew a remarkable contrast between the present days of light for
girls’ education, and the dark days of the first Schools Inquiry
Commission of 1864, of which he had been a member. Then, it was still
possible for the Commissioners to gravely ask if girls were capable of
learning Latin and mathematics? Now, as he pointed out, this question
might be answered by the results of this one year for this one
school—eighteen passes, with two honours, on the University
Examinations—to say nothing of the recent success at Cambridge, where a
woman took a place _above_ the Senior Wrangler.
As a member of the Commission of 1864, and, later, of the Endowed
Schools Commission, Mr. Fearon was glad to claim some part in the making
of this first public school for girls, of which he felt that “if ever
there was an institution of which they might be proud, the success of
which was calculated to stir the pulses, excite the emulation and
enthusiasm of others, and give intense satisfaction to all who took part
in it, either as founder, well-wishers, or friends, it was the North
London Collegiate School for Girls.”
Then, from the brilliant hall, with its “rose-bud garden of girls,” the
scene changed to the dark November day—November 30, 1865, a date to keep
in mind—when, struggling through the November fog, Emily Davies and
Frances Mary Buss made their way to the dull committee-room in Victoria
Street, where the Commissioners awaited their coming.
The members of the Commission were Lord Taunton, Lord Lyttelton, Lord
Stanley, Sir Stafford Northcote, the Dean of Chichester, the Rev. A. W.
Thorold, Mr. Acland, Mr. Baines, Mr. Forster, Mr. Erle, and Dr. Storrar.
To these, as Assistant-Commissioners, were added Messrs. D. B. Fearon,
H. A. Giffard, C. H. Staunton, T. H. Green, J. L. Hammond, J. G. Fitch,
J. Bryce, and H. M. Bompas.
The work of this Commission lasted from 1864 to 1869, and, later, many
of the same gentlemen were appointed on the Endowed Schools Commission,
and may be said to have carried on the same work, since they here
applied the remedy to ills previously discovered by their researches.
There are few of these names which will not be held in lasting honour by
all thoughtful women who know how much is due for steady help in every
cause most concerning their welfare.
It has, nevertheless, taken thirty years—since that same November 30,
1865—to give women a place side by side with men, on a Royal Commission,
when, in 1894, Mrs. Bryant, D.Sc., took the seat Miss Buss was no longer
able to fill on the second Royal Commission of Inquiry into Secondary
Education. It is not difficult to imagine the feeling of satisfaction
with which Miss Buss saw her “brilliant young fellow-worker,” as she
delighted to call her, taking this proud position.
Further to mark the contrast between 1865 and 1894, we may take a
passage in a letter from Miss Buss to Miss Davies, dated December 5,
1865, whilst still waiting for the Commissioners’ Report, in which she
says—
“When will the evidence come, I wonder? I am so curious to know
what I said, and what you said too. It is very odd, but the mist
which surrounds that interview does not clear.
“They were indeed kind, and more than kind, as you say. As for
Mr. Acland, he is what the ‘Home and Colonial’ consider you to
be!
“I can’t get over my astonishment at their civility; and it is
such fun to be told to ‘take a chair,’ as if we were the ‘party’
whom servants are so fond of announcing.”
This is the one side. Wherever it was possible to see “fun” Miss Buss
would see it. But there was another side too, revealed in a little
remark made by Mr. Fearon to Mrs. Bryant, when the prize-giving was over
at which he gave his reminiscences of that November day: “We were all so
much struck by their perfect womanliness. Why, there were tears in Miss
Buss’ eyes!”
And small wonder if this were so! In 1865—thirty years ago—it was an
event to cause a heart-thrill when a woman was summoned, not to meekly
receive information, but actually to give it; not to listen, but to
speak, and before so important a body. It is quite conceivable that as
they paused on the threshold these two ladies may have felt far more
than a merely imaginative flash of sympathy with brave women of old, who
had faced sterner tribunals to pay forfeit with life itself for the
holding of new and strange doctrines.
To say that great events may hang on smallest incidents is a mere
truism, trite as true. But we cannot doubt that a real turning point in
the history of the English people was reached in the first official
recognition of the equal share of women in the task of training the
young. From this date what was before impossible became fact, and
education takes rank as a true science.
It is of special interest in our own day, when the jarring note of
antagonism between men and women is too often struck, to look back and
remember the help given by men to the higher education of women. We note
that the two most definite starting points of the new educational
movement are to be found in the very innermost sanctum, in the strongest
stronghold of masculine rights and privileges—the Universities and the
House of Commons.
When, in 1863, the University of Cambridge opened its Local Examinations
for girls, and when, in 1864, the House of Commons gave authority to a
Royal Commission to extend its inquiry into the state of the education
of girls, the new era was practically inaugurated. Henceforth women
became free to do whatever they had power to do.
Nor was this the first help given by men to the better education of
girls. In 1848—the great year of revolution—the professors of King’s
College had opened the classes which speedily developed into Queen’s
College, the forerunner of Bedford and Cheltenham Colleges. In 1850 the
Rev. David Laing, who had been associated with the Queen’s College
movement, gave his valuable help in the expansion of Miss Buss’ first
small school on similar lines into the North London Collegiate School
for Ladies. In 1865 this school stood so high that Miss Buss was asked
by the Commissioners to give her views of education generally. This
summons was doubtless the result of the report of the Assistant
Commissioners who conducted the inquiry.
It was mainly due to the efforts of Miss Davies and Miss Bostock that
girls’ schools were included in this inquiry. These ladies sent up a
widely signed memorial from persons who had been interested in the
extension to girls of the Local Examinations. Mr. Roby, the secretary,
early in 1865, responded favourably to this appeal, pointing out that,
as so many girls were privately educated, the limits of investigation in
their case were much narrower than those for boys, and also pointing out
that the numbers and value of endowments for girls were also restricted.
But, “subject to these limitations,” he added, “the Commissioners were
willing to embrace in their inquiry the education of both sexes alike.”
He stated also that the Commissioners expected to derive much important
information from the evidence of persons of special experience and
knowledge in the various matters connected with their inquiry. Among
these witnesses they were ready to include _such persons as may be
recommended to them as best qualified to express opinions on the subject
of this memorial_.
In November, 1865, Miss Davies and Miss Buss were called to give their
evidence. Miss Beale followed in April, 1866, and, during that same
year, information on the education and the employment of women was given
by six other ladies—Miss Wolstenholme, Miss Porter, Miss Kyberd, Miss
Martin, Miss Smith, and Miss Gertrude King.
In 1870 a valuable summary of this evidence was compiled by Miss Beale
from the twenty large volumes issued by the Commissioners. It is from
this smaller blue-book that the following extracts are taken, the
evidence of Miss Davies, Miss Buss, and Miss Beale being selected as
characteristic of the views of the whole.
Read in the light of the recent University honours gained by women, many
of the questions and answers of these examinations will have a curious
interest for the “modern girl.”
When Lord Taunton put the question to Miss Buss:—
“‘Your girls come up to you extremely ignorant,’ there is
evident conviction in her brief reply: ‘Extremely ignorant!’
“‘Do they seem to be very little taught at all?’—‘In all the
essentials, hardly ever. They seldom know any arithmetic, for
instance. We have a large number of girls, of thirteen,
fourteen, and fifteen, come to us who can scarcely do the
simplest sum in arithmetic.’
“‘Have you taken any interest in the movement which has been
made to induce the University of Cambridge to institute
examinations and confer honorary distinctions on girls?’—‘Yes;
twenty-five of our pupils went up to the experimental
examination.’
“‘Do you anticipate any beneficial results from the steps which
the University of Cambridge has been induced to adopt?’—‘Yes; I
am quite sure that great good has been done already. An immense
stimulus has been given, especially to English and arithmetic.
The girls have something to work for, some hope, something to
aim at, and the teachers also.’
“‘As far as you are able to judge, do you think the class of
school-mistresses is as good as it ought to be?’—‘The class of
teachers generally is not.’
“‘In your opinion, should the education of a girl differ
essentially from that of a boy in the same rank of life, with
regard to the subjects which are to be taught?’—‘I think not,
but it is rather difficult to ascertain what is the proper
education for a boy.’
“‘You believe there is not such a distinction between the mental
powers of the two classes as to require any wide distinction
between the good education given to a girl and that to a
boy?’—‘I am sure girls can learn anything they are taught in an
interesting manner, and for which they have a motive to work.’”
Miss Beale, when asked her opinion as to the admission of girls to
University degrees, replied in a slightly modified strain—
“‘It seems to me that our opinions are so divided at present as
to the modifications that will be introduced into girls’
education, that I should regret to see anything done hastily to
assimilate it to that which may perhaps be altered for boys; but
at the same time I think it is good for boys and girls to have
similar tastes that their minds may not be entirely bent in
different ways, so that in their after life they should
understand and be interested in the same things.’
“‘In using the word “similar,” do you mean identical?’—‘I have
had some boys as pupils in mathematics, and, as far as I can
judge from these and the public schools they attended, I do not
think that the mathematical powers of women enable them
generally (their physical strength I dare say has a great deal
to do with it) to go so far in the higher mathematics as boys;
and I think we should be straining the mind (which is of all
things to be deprecated) if we were to try to force them to take
up several examinations as are necessarily passed by those who
are taking the higher branches at the Universities.’
“‘I therefore probably should not be wrong in inferring that,
while you recognize the similarity of the male and female mind,
you would not go the length of saying that they must necessarily
move in the same channel?’—‘No, I should be sorry to see them
take up classics at all exclusively, because I do not think
that, as regards the education of boys, it has been the most
desirable to limit it thus. That is my individual opinion.’”
But Miss Davies, after her two years’ experience as Hon. Sec. of the
Cambridge Local Examinations, had no hesitation concerning identity of
standard for boys and for girls, when Lord Lyttelton put the case to
her—
“You have taken a very active part in persuading the two
Universities to listen to facts which you had to lay before them
in reference to the state of female education. Will you be so
good as to tell us what difficulties you have encountered, and
what objection you have met with on behalf of either gentlemen
or ladies, and then make any remarks which you have to make upon
these difficulties?”
Objections and difficulties equally disappear in Miss Davies’ concise
answer—
“It is difficult to state objections fairly when one does not
agree with them. I think it was chiefly a sort of general
feeling that it was not in accordance with the fitness of
things. The objections seem generally to resolve themselves into
that.”
To the proposition of some special scheme of examination which might be
adopted for the special requirements of women, she said simply—
“I do not see what advantage it would have. It would be
difficult to frame a curriculum specially suited to girls,
because almost everybody has a separate theory about what it is
good for girls to learn—about what is apposite to the female
mind.”
The three ladies were agreed in accepting generally the verdict of the
Commissioners on the existing state of girls’ schools, afterwards thus
briefly summed up—
“It cannot be denied that our picture of middle-class education
is, on the whole, unfavourable. The general deficiency in girls’
education is stated with the utmost confidence, and with entire
agreement, with whatever difference of statement, by many
witnesses of competent authority. Want of thoroughness and
foundation; slovenliness and showy superficiality; inattention
to rudiments; undue time given to accomplishments, and these not
taught intelligently or in any scientific manner; want of
organization;—these may sufficiently indicate the character of
the complaints received.”
There is also complete agreement as regards not only the need of better
schools, but of better systems of training for teachers. Although
thankful to accept concessions on the existing lines of boys’ education,
_faute de mieux_, they are by no means persuaded that this education is
even for boys all that could be desired. Even at that date they could
venture to intimate the opinion that the mere fact of a University
course did not, _per se_, make a good teacher.
Miss Davies called special attention to the fact, that while no
endowments were applied to girls above the Elementary schools, many of
these must have been intended for girls as well as boys, since they form
part of bequests made “_to the children_” of certain parishes or
districts.
Dr. Fitch has pointed out[1] that at this period, whilst 1192 boys were
receiving at Christ’s Hospital an education fitting them for the
Universities, there were eighteen girls only, and these trained as
domestic servants. Elsewhere he goes into the question, showing that
while charity schools were open to girls, they were entirely excluded
from the grammar schools, where boys were being trained “to serve God
and the State.” There is scarcely a record, he says, of any school whose
founder deliberately intended a liberal education for girls.
Footnote 1:
“Woman and the Universities,” _Contemporary Review_, August, 1890.
“A girl was not expected ‘to serve God or State,’ and was,
therefore, not invited to the University or grammar school; but
she might, if poor, be needed to contribute to the comfort of
her ‘betters’ as an apprentice or a servant, and therefore the
charity schools were open to her.”
And Dr. Fitch’s own experience confirms this fact. Mr. George Moore,
wishing to devote £10,000 to scholarships, sent in a scheme for the
consideration of some of the leading educationalists, when, finding
mention only of boys, Dr. Fitch ventured to suggest the fact that boys
have sisters, receiving the explanation from Mr. Moore that it was from
no intention of excluding them that they had been omitted, but simply
that it had never occurred to him to think of girls in such a
connection.
With the Endowed Schools Commission this state of things came to an end.
We cannot tell how far the influence of the evidence given by women to
the Schools Inquiry Commission may have extended, but it was then
decided that “in any enactment or constitution that may be brought into
operation on this question the full participation of girls in endowments
should be broadly laid down.”
Among Miss Buss’ most able supporters in obtaining the endowment for her
new schools she counted five members of the Schools Inquiry
Commission—Lord Lyttelton, the Rev. A. W. Thorold (Bishop of Rochester
and of Winchester), Dr. Storrar, Mr. Fearon, and Mr. Fitch. In 1866,
while the Commission were still at work, Miss Davies thus speaks of it
in her “Higher Education of Women”—
“Specific schemes adapted to circumstances will be devised as
occasions arise. In the meantime, any kind of recognition of the
fact that the education of women is a matter worth thinking
about is of the utmost practical value. In this point of view,
as indicating and expressing a growing sense of the importance
of the subject, the extension to girls of the Local Examinations
of the Universities of Cambridge and Edinburgh, and the steps
taken by the Schools Inquiry Commission in their pending
investigations, have an indirect inference quite out of
proportion to the immediate and calculable results obtained,
affording a moral support and encouragement the effect of which
it is not easy to estimate.”
The direct influence of the Commission may be gauged by the fact that
within ten years of this date Miss Buss was able to make a list of
forty-five new endowed schools for girls, to contain severally from
fifty to four hundred pupils, with salaries for the head-mistresses
varying from £100 a year to £200 (exclusive of capitation fees). Of this
list she remarks—
“It is not complete, but will be useful in establishing my
point, viz. that there are some good positions for properly
qualified women-teachers.
“St. Paul’s is the greatest prize in the profession, or rather
would be if the scheme had become law. Do you see, the salary
might be £2000 a year. _Ours_ is second, with a hundred more
pupils, and therefore more work and less pay than St. Paul’s. My
object in drawing up the list was to show the importance of
training and high education for women-teachers. Such prizes are
not to be had elsewhere. Look at Scotch girls’ schools, at
German also. We women owe a deep debt to the Endowed School
Commission.”
The verdict given as the result of the Schools Inquiry Commission does
not, of course, exclude the fact that there were then, and had always
been, _some_ good private schools where a good education had been given.
The true teacher, like the poet, “is born and not made,” the power to
teach being as much a Divine gift as that of song or of painting. It is
true that the perception of every gift must depend on its full culture,
the extent of success being determined by the amount of genius; but
there have always been born teachers, some self-educated and some
developed by exceptional home surroundings. Women of this kind have
always existed as the loved and honoured centres of exceptional
influence, sending out pupils formed on their own model.
Doubtless, there could have been found, at any period in the world’s
history, a sufficient justification for the attitude condemned in one of
the early papers in _Fraser_ on the then quite new Queen’s College:—
‘Educate the women!’ exclaimed an accomplished and excellent man
in our hearing, and with marked surprise. ‘Where is the
necessity? A college for ladies! Nonsense! Women are admirably
educated! I see none but well-educated women around me!’ in the
tone of a man who, when told of those who hunger for bread,
should reply, ‘Want bread? Nonsense! Hunger! There is no such
thing! I see a good dinner before me every day.’”
But, granting that there was education, and of a real kind, we must
agree that this, as a rule, was accessible only in the form of a very
highly paid private governess, or in select and very expensive private
schools. That even so much was not common, and not to be secured by the
very highest payments, may be inferred from the account given by Miss
Cobbe, in her “Autobiography,” of a typical fashionable school, where a
two years’ course cost £1000, of which she says that “if the object had
been to produce the minimum of result at the maximum of cost, nothing
could have been better designed for the purpose.” In this school, she
adds, “everything was taught in the inverse ratio of its true
importance. At the bottom of the scale were morals and religion, and at
the top music and dancing.”
The point to be kept before us, in considering the special work of this
past half-century, is that for the middle-classes, including
professional persons of moderate means, good education was practically
out of reach, the cheaper schools which were open to them being, for the
most part, of the order condemned by the Commissioners. It follows,
therefore, that the opening of the new schools—with the best teaching on
moderate terms—was a change of which the importance can scarcely yet be
justly estimated, especially when, side by side with this preparatory
movement, the advantages of University training were added. Before this
time no girls’ schools, however advanced, had gone beyond the subjects
considered suitable for women, and any women with knowledge of classics
or mathematics were either exceptionally gifted, or had accidentally
been taught with their brothers.
When we go back to November 30, 1865, the fog outside that
committee-room is a true symbol of the gloom that prevailed regarding
the higher education of women. Darkness still held rule, even though a
few of the topmost peaks had already caught the first rays of the coming
dawn.
At that date the future was still so veiled that it could by no
possibility have occurred to Miss Davies or Miss Buss, standing there
before the Commissioners, even to dream of themselves as what we now
know them to have been—the representatives, one of University Education
for Women, and the other of Public Schools for Girls, that is to say, of
the two most powerful agencies in the greatest revolution of modern
times.
But in those days Miss Buss’ school was still her own private property,
and, as yet, no glimpse had crossed her mental vision of its future as
the model of the great public girls’ schools now spread throughout the
land. So, too, with Miss Davies. Girton was not, and even Hitchin had
not come into view, though possibly some vague ideal of a true college
for women may have been taking shape in Miss Davies’ mind. But if so, it
must still have been as baseless as the poet’s dream, for no “sweet
girl-graduate” existed as yet out of the domain of the “Princess Ida.”
On this lower earth at that time, and for many a day after, she could
serve only as matter for a flying jest.
There were indeed three “Colleges” for girls—Queen’s, Bedford, and
Cheltenham, as well as the North London Collegiate School for Ladies—all
in full work, and even then ready for the rapid expansion which followed
the opening of the Universities to women. But, at that date, these could
not rank as more than collegiate schools; nor was more desired, for
Professor Maurice is very careful, in his inaugural address, to
deprecate all intention of emulating the poet’s creation, thus guarding
himself:—
“We should indeed rejoice to profit in this or any undertaking
by the deep wisdom which the author of the ‘Princess’ has
concealed under a veil of exquisite grace and lightness; we
should not wish to think less nobly than his royal heroine does
of the rights and powers of her sex, but we should be more
inclined to acquiesce in the conclusions of her matured
experience, than to revive—upon a miserably feeble and reduced
scale, with some fatal deviations from its original statutes—her
splendid but transitory foundation.”
Only the first step to the great changes of the present day had then
been taken, when, in 1863, the University of Cambridge had allowed
girls, _as an experiment_, to join the Local Examinations. Miss Buss
always dated the later superiority of the teaching in her school to her
experiences on that occasion. Out of eighty-four girls who went in, she
sent twenty-five, of whom fifteen passed. The failure of ten in
arithmetic pulled her up short, with the result that the teaching was so
far changed that none failed in the next year, when girls were finally
admitted on the same terms with boys, and the London Centre was formed
under Miss Davies. But, even in 1866, success was so far limited, that
Miss Beale could reply as follows to Lord Lyttelton’s query, “If she had
heard of these new examinations?”—
“There seems to be some difficulty in applying them to the
higher middle classes. I think of our own case. The brothers of
our pupils go to the Universities. Now, generally speaking,
those who go in for the Local Examinations occupy a much lower
place in the social scale, and our pupils would not like to be
classed with them, but regarded as equal in rank to those who
pass at the University. These feelings are stronger in small
places.”
The far-reaching effect of these examinations is indicated by Miss Buss’
opinion that “until the Local Cambridge Examinations were organized,
there was no sort of recognition on the part of men that the feminine
mind could under any circumstances rank with the masculine.”
We see from this fact that, before the middle of this century, the
“woman’s movement” could not be said to exist at all. The question of
equality—so much to the front at present—could not then even have been
formulated. It is not till 1869 that we find it taken at all seriously,
in a paper in the _Macmillan_ for March of that year, by a writer who
remarks that—
“Two alternatives are open to the would-be reformers of woman.
The first of these is the line of Miss Lydia Becker, the second
of Miss Emily Davies.”
And he adds that—
“Without wishing to disparage unduly the efforts of any earnest
woman for what she believes to be the improvement of her sex, a
thoughtful man must feel that the second is of the two the wiser
course; the one which is most practical, most sensible, least
dangerous, and most likely to secure the sympathy of the mass of
Englishmen and Englishwomen.”
It is true that, in 1864, Dr. W. B. Hodgson, one of the first and best
friends to the higher education of women, recognizes the fact that there
might “rise up before the affrighted fancy” visions of what are
derisively called “strong-minded women,” disputations, brow-beating,
troubled with “a determination of words to the mouth,” loud and harsh in
voice, arrogant in temper, dogmatic, self-willed, unconventional,
undomestic, impatient of the matrimonial yoke as a badge of slavery, and
with, perhaps, a leaning to waistcoats, and collars turned down, cigars,
and hair parted on the side—such, in short, as a recent Italian
dramatist, Castelvecchio, has so amusingly delineated in his “Donna
Romantica.” But of this type, Dr. Hodgson adds—
“I know not whether the experience of my hearers is like mine;
but assuredly of the very few women in whom it has been my lot
to meet with any resemblance to this offensive type, not one has
been distinguished by superior breadth or depth of culture. Very
much the reverse. They have been remarkable for nothing more
than the want of a truly liberal education, of which it is the
high office to impart a large sympathy, a tolerant appreciation
of various opinions, respect for others, and a modest distrust
of self. It is not assuredly among the Mrs. Jamesons, the Mrs.
Somervilles, the Mrs. Brownings, the Miss Swanwicks, that such
portents are found. Dogmatism and presumption ever attend
ignorance, not knowledge; shallowness, not depth.”[2]
Footnote 2:
“The Education of Girls,” etc., by W. B. Hodgson, LL.D.
There were, indeed, indications of the two distinct lines of action in
the work for higher education, and in the work for political reforms.
But as yet they were not distinctly divided. The sympathies of the most
thoughtful women went out in both directions, even whilst they might
follow the one or the other more definitely. It was no more possible
then than it would be possible now to draw a hard and fast line; placing
on the one side the Educationalists, and on the other the workers for
Suffrage and other reforms affecting women. Then, as now, women could be
divided into two classes only—the wise and the foolish. Then, as now,
the wise worked wisely in whatever line they followed, while the foolish
worked also after their own kind.
The educational reform attracted the larger following, content to work
in preparing women for the best use of extended power when the time of
possession might arrive. In the mean time, the object sought was merely
the preparation for actual duties, either in home-life, or in
employments rendered necessary by the pressure of circumstances.
In looking back over the great educational movement, which has so
changed the aspect of society, two points stand out most sharply: (1)
that the work was done in the true natural order by men and women side
by side; and (2) that it was done in the true spiritual order, in that
_quietness_ which is the appointed avenue to higher inspiration, that
_stillness_ which leads to vital knowledge; and also that it was done in
the _obedience_ which is the link that binds man to God—practical
religion.
It is impossible to judge as yet what may be the final outcome of the
intellectual freedom now opened to all women. There are signs of what
was the most probable immediate effect—the exaggeration of recoil from
all ancient bonds, including those of religion and duty. Whilst it would
be very short-sighted to suppose that such a state of things could ever
be permanent, so long as women retain any remnant of the intuitional
quality which is their special dower, it may still be seasonable to call
special attention to the fact that the pioneers in the educational
movement are, without exception, deeply religious women. This
circumstance may or may not be an accident of no particular moment. The
point is that it is historic fact, and as such has its own significance.
In a quite special degree, we may point to Miss Davies and to Miss
Beale, as well as to Miss Buss and Miss Clough, as quite typically
_law-abiding_ and _obedient_ women.
_Quietness_, in its most literal sense, is most curiously characteristic
of all the educational leaders. The very thought of Emily Davies,
reticent and self-controlled, gives a sense of calm and stillness. For
long years we see Frances Mary Buss curbing her magnificent energies to
the “daily round, the common task.” Anne Clough works in silence for a
lifetime, between the first little day school in Liverpool and the
success of Newnham. Dorothea Beale, though she can rise to all poetic
heights, is observant of all the small sweet courtesies of lowly
service, and, if “learned” in all school-lore, is also notably “learned
in all gracious household ways.” And the same must be said of Frances
Martin, who, in her College for Working Women, has so extended the range
of the new education that none now need be left out.
Nor are these qualities less conspicuous in the group of what may be
termed the “amateurs” of the movement—true “lovers” of their kind, who,
having all that heart could desire of this world’s good, have made it
their business to share it with those less favoured: Lady Stanley of
Alderley, Lady Augusta Stanley, Lady Frederick Cavendish, Mrs. Manning
and her daughter Miss E. A. Manning, Mrs. Reed, Miss Bostock, Mrs.
Wedgwood, Madame Bodichon, Miss Ewart, and Miss L. M. Hubbard, all more
lavish of time and thought and wealth than of words. And then all the
active workers: sweet Mrs. Grey, with the touch of old-world stateliness
adding strength to her sweetness; Miss Shirreff and Miss Mary Gurney, of
few words, but these straight to the point; Mrs. Burbury, true to her
University traditions, and Mrs. Garrett-Anderson, with the professional
reticence learned in her fight through the medical schools; Miss
Davenport-Hill, known to the School Board as the woman who can hold her
tongue, and her sister Florence, “wisest of wise women,” as her friends
call her, also with a great gift of silence; Miss Laura Soames, too
early taken from us; and the many more like-minded, whose works rather
than their tongues still speak for them.
It is not, indeed, that any one of these lacks the power to speak, for
on some occasion most have been known to speak even from the platform,
and to speak well. But not to women like these could those famous words
of Mrs. Browning’s ever be held appropriate—
“A woman cannot do the thing she ought,—
Which means whatever perfect thing she can,
In life, in art, in science,—but she fears
To let the perfect action take her part,
And rest there: she must prove what she can do
Before she does it, prate of woman’s rights,
Of woman’s mission, woman’s function, till
The men (who are prating too on their side) cry,
‘A woman’s function plainly is—to talk!’”
And these quiet women are the true pioneers—the women who have actually
done the work. They did not call on the world to listen to what women
might, could, would, or should do under quite different conditions; they
simply did—under the actually existing conditions—just the thing that
needed to be done, then and there.
There was not in those days the need of perpetual discussions about
“rights” or “wrongs.” The easiest way to cure the wrong seemed to lie in
doing the nearest right. It was not that they were indifferent either to
existing abuses, or to past wrongs, or blind to the need of necessary
reforms. There was not one of them who was not stirred to the depths of
her being by the wrong of past ages, or by the present anguish under
which women agonize. It was because these deepest depths were so stirred
that there they found themselves at one with the Divine love, which has
not only suffered, but has conquered suffering—in this love finding
strength for work and patience for waiting; and, as they worked and as
they waited, there came forgiveness for the past, healing for the
present, and hope for the future. All work that is done in the spirit of
Christ is thereby lifted above anger, bitterness, or despair. In these
moods no great or lasting work has been done or can be done. Not for
selfish ends, not even for self-development, do the greatest workers
leave the quiet of home, but only and always for freedom to do the
highest duty, for the glorious liberty of love. Therefore the secret is
not in revolt, but in obedience to the higher law which may indeed at
times seem to be a breaking of the laws of men. By this test we may
measure all our greatest women leaders. In turn we may find that each
has defied to the uttermost the public opinion of her time in daring to
prove her right to free action. But just in proportion to the height to
which she rose we find her true womanliness strong to withstand any
strain. The only real stepping out of woman’s proper sphere is when she
descends to measure her strength with man on the lower level of
self-love and self-seeking.
But weary as we grow of the present phase of empty “sound and fury,
signifying nothing”—the language of revolt and invective—we need not
fear for the future, or doubt that a true progress is taking us through
all this jarring and wrangling and strife to a safe goal—
“Where beyond these voices there is peace.”
“When, at the last, a woman set herself to man,
Like perfect music unto noble words;
And so these twain upon the skirts of Time
Sit side by side, full-summ’d in all their powers,
Dispensing harvest, sowing the To-be,
Self reverent each, and reverencing each,
Distinct in individualities,
But like each other even as those who love.
Then comes the statelier Eden back to men;
Then reign the worlds great bridals, chaste and calm;
Then springs the crowning race of humankind.
May these things be!”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
BOOK I.
EARLY LIFE.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER I.
CHILDHOOD.
“The very pulse of the machine
• • • • • •
The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength and skill;
A perfect woman, nobly plann’d
To warn, to comfort, and command.”
The record of the life of Frances Mary Buss includes within it, in
brief, the story of the modern educational movement, in which she took
so leading a part. It is not the less a story of perfect womanliness, in
a career that is one of natural and steady growth, from seed to full
fruitage. The woman simply fulfils the promise of the child.
It is a life most remarkable in this completeness. To very few of the
greatest even is it given to see their life-work crowned with complete
success. Frances Mary Buss was one of the few who begin life with a
fixed aim, and who live to see self-devotion end in triumph. And the end
left her, as the beginning had found her, as humble as she was loving.
In an age of incessant movement it is very restful to find a life of
constant action which is yet so quiet and orderly, with continuity of
place as marked as its continuity of purpose. All her work, widely as
its influence extended beyond these limits, was carried on within the
parish of St. Pancras—fifty years of ceaseless energy, from eighteen
years of age to sixty-eight.
In holiday-time she used her freedom for as much change as could be
compressed within holiday limits, thus seeing much of Europe as well as
of her native land. But, excepting for one term of absence from illness,
she might always, in working time, have been found at her post.
“Not for her name only, but because of her love and good works do I love
to connect her with St. Francis!” writes an old pupil;[3] and though at
the first shock there may seem a touch of incongruity in thus linking
the great ascetic saint of the past and this essentially modern worker,
there is, nevertheless, much suggestiveness in the association.
Footnote 3:
In a bright little sketch in the _Woman’s Penny Paper_, of June 8,
1889.
Are they not, after all, of the very same order? What is the greatest
saint but that child of God who is most aware of his Divine sonship, and
therefore most intent on doing his “Father’s business”? Fashions of
service may change, but this fact remains changeless. The fashion of the
past was to mortify the flesh, and to serve the world by prayer rather
than by work. The fashion of the present sees that “laborare est orare,”
and serves the world by self-devotion instead of self-denial. The past
was ruled by negations, and the stern “Thou shalt not!” rose as a
barrier between man and man. The “saint” was not merely, as the word
signifies, one “set apart” to do the will of God “on earth as it is
[done] in heaven,” but he became instead one _cut off_, or _separated_,
from the life of ordinary humanity. In our day we have risen to the
power of the _affirmation_, “Thou _shalt_ love the Lord thy God with all
thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind,” and we go on
to the inevitable sequence, “Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.”
Not the denial or the evasion of human duties, but their fulfilment
utterly, is our test of sainthood in the present. It may be less easy to
trace our saints by the quiet fireside or in the busy street; in the
senate house or on the market-place; but none the less saintly are these
in their modern garb than those who went their way apart, as stately
abbot or humble anchorite, as hooded friar or cloistered nun.
The form may change, but the fact is the same. With the fact of a great
love filling his soul, St. Francis, vowed to poverty, is still richer
than the richest; and our modern saint, with all life’s gifts
consecrated to service, may safely make the most of life, having thus
the more to share. Having love, riches and poverty alike fall into their
true place, as accidents, and not essentials of being.
We go back to far Assisi, and, looking across the Umbrian plain, see the
quaint quiet little hill-town—unchanged in seven centuries—still looking
like a white dove fluttering down the dark slope of Monte Subiaco. Here
we find the boy Francis, gay and careless, dreaming his boyish dreams of
royal courts and of knightly fame; till, falling as a dark shadow across
the glittering pageant, comes the vision of the world’s poverty and
pain, and the dreamer wakes to take his chosen place among the poor and
sorrowing. To spend and be spent for love’s sake is henceforth the aim
and the achievement of this perfect life.
Then we turn to commonplace St. Pancras, within sound of the crowding,
hurrying, tumultuous life of the great modern city. Here we find the
girl, Frances, dreaming over her books, with who can tell what ambitious
dreams of her own future, as her heart burns with the sense of conscious
power? But to her, too, comes the vision of struggle and of hard toil,
and to her ear the cry of pain. And she awakes from her dream, to spend
and be spent, that in the future every woman may rise to her full
stature, set free for ever from the trammels of ignorance and of fear.
It is the very same story, only read in the light of a different age.
The key-note to these harmonious lives is the same—love. Love,
simplicity, humility, poverty of self, and devotion to others, form the
common chord of this heavenly music, vary the movements as we may.
With merely technical or dogmatic theology neither the mediæval nor the
modern saint has much to do. Religion forms an integral part of daily
life. Love to God—accepted in His appointed channels, and for His
appointed ends—is the sum and substance of this creed. The life of our
modern worker had its roots deep down in the love and life eternal, as
is seen by its fruits. One who knew her best—her eldest brother—says of
her, “All through her life she acted on the highest principle—as a
loving Christian. Out of this came, as the natural fruit, her
large-hearted charity, her help she gave ever willingly to all who
needed assistance.” This love interpenetrated all her being and
expressed itself in service, in deeds, not words. “Don’t preach, but
_be_; your actions will do more than your words!” she was wont to say to
her pupils.
It must all come back again to the key-note—love. And we notice as the
special quality of the modern, as opposed to the mediæval saint, a
certain _humanness_ which stoops to the smallest things, and, so
stooping, lifts them to highest uses. We read of one of the typical
saints of the olden days how she pressed into the seclusion of her
convent, stepping over the prostrate body of her old father, whose
prayers had failed to move her. “Heaven is the price,” she would have
said, in the favourite words of another such saint of our own century,
the Mère Angélique, who, lying pillowless on the bare ground, spent her
last dying breath in sending from her the one human creature for whom
she had a human love, a young novice, who obeyed her, broken-hearted.
The inevitable outcome of the ascetic ideal—of pain for pain’s sake—has
always been and must be _inhumanity_. The distinctive outcome of the
wider grasp of God’s love which in our day says instead, pain for love’s
sake only, is the exact opposite—an ever deepening _humanity_, in which
human love is lifted up into the Divine, gathering into its embrace not
only every race of mankind, but the brute creation too.
That this was characteristic in a most remarkable degree of her whom we
are glad to recognize as one of our foremost teachers, remarkable
especially in her power of loving and of inspiring love, we see most
clearly in the word which seems by common consent to be that chosen to
describe her—_motherly_, the most human as it is the most Divine word of
mortal speech.
Few things are more delightful than the effort to trace the process by
which a great personality is fitted for a great work. We may rejoice
that we possess sufficient indications of her childhood to show how this
child grew up to make life different for the children of after times.
Frances Mary Buss, born August 16, 1827, was the eldest child—and only
daughter who survived infancy—of parents who were both persons of
exceptional force of character. Her father was not only an artist of
skill far beyond the average, but was a man of cultivated literary and
scientific tastes. His influence was a powerful factor in the training
of the child who was his joy and pride in her public career, as well as
the most obedient and devoted of daughters.
The mother, almost adored by her children, was one of those strong
loving souls whose silent lives are eloquent beyond all speech, who are
enshrined in the hearts of all within their sphere as very ideals of
love and loyalty.
* * * * *
Mrs. Septimus Buss thus writes of—
“the large-hearted loving Mother, whose motherliness was not
only for her _own_, but for all children. It was a family joke
that she came home from her walks penniless, as she could never
see a poor child looking longingly into a cake-shop without
sending it happily away in possession of a ‘goody.’ Many of us
remember how we naturally went to her for comfort, and always
felt the trouble lightened by some brave or kind word, or
personal help, if possible. What merry, cheerful, little
impromptu parties there were in her ever hospitable house, among
her own children and others who, having finished their work,
remained to play!
“Her watchword, like Miss Buss’, was _Duty_. I once answered, in
real fright, ‘Oh, aunt, I am sure I cannot!’ She replied,
‘Child, never say I cannot, when called to any duty, but do the
best you can!’ The devoted love that her children bore her was
only the due return for her unwearied care of, and tenderness
to, them in every detail of their life.”
Her family regard it only as traditional that their mother was descended
from Mrs. Fleetwood, the daughter of Oliver Cromwell; but I had it as an
accepted fact from one of the undoubted members of that family, who was
proud to claim even so remote a connection with one whom she had so much
admired. Miss Andrews must have been educated at Mrs. Wyand’s school, in
the generation preceding Miss Buss, and she probably spoke with
authority on the matter. She also had remarkable power as a teacher,
with quite original views on education, a fact interesting as throwing a
sidelight on the school in which Miss Buss was educated, the best in the
neighbourhood of Mornington Crescent.
In a book of “Memories,” compiled for the family circle of Dr. Henry
Buss—the “Uncle Henry” to whom, as a girl, “Fanny” owed some of her
first holiday trips abroad—we find it recorded that “in 1689, William
and Mary brought in their train from Holland a Mrs. Buss, who held the
post of nurse to the Princess Anne, afterwards queen.”
The descendants of Mrs. Buss settled chiefly in the county of Kent. At
Bromley, in 1775, we find one of them, Robert Buss, holding a post in
the Excise. He afterwards became a schoolmaster at Tunbridge. His son,
William Church Buss, became known as “a skilled engraver,” and, marrying
“pretty Mary Anne Starling,” made his home, in 1803, in Jewin Street,
Aldersgate.
We must dismiss entirely all our present associations with Aldersgate,
and go back to the beginning of the century, to the description given by
Dr. Buss of the city at the time when his parents made their home there—
“At this time the city itself was separated by fields from the
village of Islington. It was the custom for pedestrians,
especially after dark, to collect at Aldersgate-bars in
sufficient force to protect each other from footpads, while
crossing the fields to this village.
“The site of the existing City Road Basin was a market garden,
thus utilized when the Grand Junction Canal Company extended
their waterway through the city to the Thames. From the village
of Islington to Highgate and Hampstead it was nearly all fields.
Copenhagen House stood in the midst of cornfields. This spot is
now the centre of New Smithfield Cattle Market.... The river
Fleet was then as wide as the New River, and was supplied with
boats for rowing. Excepting the Thames, it was the nearest
river, and also a favourite bathing-place for the youth of
London.”
There was probably no great change, as it was still before the days of
steam and rail, when the little granddaughter of William Church Buss was
sent to visit her grandparents, who had then removed to Newgate Street.
Her maternal grandparents still lived in Clerkenwell, near the market
gardens there.
William Church Buss was a very skilful engraver, and his son, Robert
William Buss, was trained by him, and was a clever engraver before he
became a painter, and subsequently a well-known etcher on copper and
steel, and draughtsman for wood-engravers. Working in this way, he
illustrated the novels of Mrs. Trollope and Captain Marryat, and other
writers, and two of the first etchings for “Pickwick” were his doing.
For Charles Knight he illustrated “Chaucer,” helping also in the
“Shakespeare,” “London,” and “Old England,” issued by that publisher.
Many of his own original pictures were engraved and had wide sale, such
as “Soliciting a Vote,” “The Musical Bore,” “Satisfaction,” “Time and
Tide,” etc. And, with all this, he still found time for lectures on “The
Beautiful and Picturesque,” on “Fresco,” and on “Comic Art”—this last
re-written at the close of his life, and dedicated to his daughter,
under the title of “Graphic Satire.”
It was when on a visit to her paternal grandparents, in Newgate Street,
that the future Educationalist made her first acquaintance with
school-life, after a very quaint fashion, as she thus tells us—
“To get me out of the way, my grandparents sent me to a little
school in the city, on a first floor, with a few forms, and, as
far as I remember, with no other appurtenances for a school at
all.
“The second school to which I went was kept by a Miss Cook—a
mixed school of boys and girls. In Miss Cook’s school we sat on
forms, and learned lessons which it never occurred to her to
explain. I remember learning a good deal of ‘Murray’s Grammar.’”
In Frances Power Cobbe’s “Autobiography” she tells us that the first
practical result of her attainment of the arts of reading and
writing—throwing a lurid light on the agonies of the process—was to
inscribe on the gravel walk, in large letters, “Lessons, thou tyrant of
the mind!” A similar inscription might have been engraven for the
benefit of Miss Cook by Frances Mary Buss, after this prolonged course
of Lindley Murray without explanation. But she seems to have found other
solace. The tyranny of lessons was powerless to crush this independent
young mind, or to repress an independence of action more suitable to the
age of “Revolting Daughters,” than to that of “Mrs. Trimmer” or of
“Evenings at Home.” Her next story tells how she invited a little
companion to a juvenile party, which existed only in her own active
imagination, until the kind mother gave it objective reality, on hearing
of the small boy’s bitter disappointment. It might be at this school
that Miss Buss acquired that ideal of “mixed schools” which she kept
before her to the end, though she knew it was not to become fact in her
day.
She was very far from spending her young life only in sitting on a form,
learning lessons by rote. “Children,” says Mr. Ruskin, “should have
times of being off duty, like soldiers;” or, as Dr. Abbott puts the same
truth very clearly, “Children should have time to think their own
thoughts.” These privileges certainly did belong to the children of the
past, and, like many another clever child, the little Fanny made full
use of her liberty, for she continues—
“As soon as I could begin to read I revelled in books, and
especially fairy tales. I devoured every fairy tale that was to
be had. In those days the books available for children were ‘The
Pilgrim’s Progress,’ ‘Miss Edgeworth’s Tales,’ ‘The Arabian
Nights,’ and the old nursery stories. Of these I had single
copies, which I managed to buy out of the money given to me. I
had, in addition, translations of the Countess D’Aulnoy’s tales.
As my father had a very fair library for the date, and as I had
access to all his books, I had a wide course of reading. I knew
Milton’s introduction to ‘The History of England,’ with the
legends of Bladud, Lear, etc.; ‘Hume’s History,’ in every part,
except the political, which I invariably skipped; the novels of
the eighteenth century—‘Tom Jones,’ ‘Pamela,’ ‘The Man of
Feeling,’ ‘Joseph Andrews,’ ‘Peregrine Pickle,’ etc. ‘Pamela’
was in four large volumes, the first of which I could never get
because my mother hid it. At about ten years of age I became
acquainted with Scott’s novels, and knew all the stories by
heart, except ‘Rob Roy,’ for which I did not care. My father had
the ‘Abbotsford Edition,’ with the poems, in twelve volumes. I
never, however, read the poetry. In consequence of my father
being engaged to illustrate books for Charles Knight, and for
Bentley and Colburn, the publishers, I used to have the
opportunity of reading the proofs, by going down, at six o’clock
on summer mornings, to his room before any one was there. I
remember my chief difficulty, however, with the proofs was
paging them correctly; this I never learned to do, and therefore
I read the pages as they came, fitting them into my mind
properly afterwards. In that way I read Mrs. Trollope’s ‘Widow
Married,’ Marryat’s ‘Peter Simple,’ etc.... During this early
period of my life I must have become acquainted with the
contents of about forty volumes of plays, published by
Cumberland. There were also many volumes of plays of the
previous century, which I knew almost by heart. Amongst these
were volumes of Peruvian, Persian, and Turkish tales, belonging
to a young aunt, my mother’s sister, who lent them to me. In
these tales there was no attempt at connection, every person
introduced merely telling his or her own story.
“I remember that, as my brother Alfred grew up, I used to find
it necessary, in order to enjoy my book, to hide myself under a
sofa, in a room on the second floor, which was occupied by a
Government clerk. This gentleman was out all day, and therefore
his room was available. My mother must have known this, because
we children—the boys at any rate—were not allowed to go to this
room.”
At about the same time we find the insatiable child reading Miss
Strickland’s “Queens of England,” of which she says “each volume came
out by itself, and I remember I used to save up all my pence to hire a
volume to read, and even at that early age I made many notes.”
History remained her favourite study, and her mode of teaching it must
have made it fascinating to her pupils. One of these, afterwards a
member of the staff, remarks of it—
“I was at school from 1864–67, and the pleasantest part of the
time was the lessons I had in history, French, geography, and
literature from Miss Buss. How thorough her teaching was! It
seems to me that I have never forgotten what she taught, while
most of the lessons from others (except Dr. Hodgson and Miss
Chessar) seem to have passed away without leaving any definite
trace in my memory. Her lessons were alive; the historical
characters and scenes she described seemed as familiar as if one
had known them personally, and she made everything interesting
because she herself had such interest in what she taught.”
Another of the old pupils says also—
“But for picturesqueness and interest her history lessons
excelled all others. It was then she gave us ‘the cream of her
life’s reading,’ as I have heard her say. Two lectures specially
remain in my mind on ‘The Rise of the Hydes.’ There were many in
the class who lost not a point from beginning to end, so
graphically was the story presented to us.”
And at any time, to the last, to hear her sum up the characteristics of
any special period, or describe any great event, with her instinctively
picturesque presentation of the scene, was a treat of no common order.
To this graphic power of description, her early artistic surroundings
must in no small degree have contributed. At one time she taught drawing
in her class, but she never had the time for any artistic work of her
own. She had, however, keen and cultivated artistic tastes, and her
feeling for colour was especially marked. Her visits to Italy
intensified this delight in colour, and she indulged it in ways
sometimes regarded as hazardous by eyes accustomed only to sober British
tints. But they were in the end obliged to admire these innovations. She
was among the first to appreciate the new developments of decorative
art, and Myra Lodge and the Cottage at Epping revealed her taste at
every turn.
In the account of the next stage of her school-life, we get glimpses of
her social surroundings which show that there must have been much to
stimulate the child’s eager and inquiring mind—
“At ten years of age I was sent to a much higher school, kept by
Mrs. Wyand, at the corner of Rutland Street, Hampstead Road.
Here I met with the daughters of David Roberts, Clarkson
Stanfield, and other artists. Mr. Wyand had a boys’ school,
largely attended by the sons of artists. A few doors lower down
lived George Cruickshank. Clarkson Stanfield also lived in
Mornington Place; and, still nearer the school, Frederick Bacon,
the engraver, with whose niece and adopted daughter I was on the
most intimate terms. At a later date the daughters of Goodall
entered the school, and also Isabella Irving, the daughter of
Edward Irving, a tall, fine dark girl, very like her father. Her
brother, Martin Irving, was in the boys’ school.”
We have to bear in mind that at this date Mornington Crescent occupied
much the same position, as a literary and artistic centre, which is held
by Hampstead at the present day. Even as late as 1850, the westward
migrations had not begun, for market gardens filled the space between
Kensington High Street and Chelsea proper, and Notting Hill Square was
on the verge of the country. In 1850, University and King’s Colleges
made a centre in the west central district; and the establishment even
of a Collegiate School for Ladies was regarded as a slight infringement
of the dignity of Camden Street, which could boast at that date of so
choice an intellectual _cotérie_ as Professor De Morgan, Professor Key,
Professor Hoppus, and Dr. Kitto. It was near enough to town life, and
yet near the country, long stretches of green fields and flowery hedges
leading to the heights of Hampstead and Highgate. Regent’s Park was the
nearest of the parks, and the New Road had not then outgrown the
freshness of its name.
In these records of Miss Buss’ childhood we seem taken back to another
world, as we read of the “long coast journey to the Docks,” on the way
to Margate, when the child sees “the remains of the illuminations of the
day before for the celebration of the Princess Victoria’s birthday.” In
the next year also there are, again at Margate, “triumphal arches in
honour of the Queen’s coronation.” And then there is the first sight of
the young Queen—
“I had been taken to the park by my grandmother, and an open
carriage passed with three ladies in deep mourning—one was the
Queen, the other the Duchess of Kent, and the third a lady in
waiting. The following year I also saw the Queen in an open
carriage going to the Academy. She then wore a white dress, and
a very large bonnet lined with pink. I think she had a green
parasol.”
On another occasion there is “a vision of scarlet and of a mass of white
drapery” as “the young couple are returning from St. James’ Chapel on
the Queen’s birthday.”
Very pleasant, in its old-fashioned simplicity, must have been the life
of this artistic circle, united in tastes and occupations, and living,
as it were, between town and country, with the advantages of both. It
was no wonder that, under such influences, this child early developed
intellectual tastes. But her growth was equal on all sides, love of
books being only one of her varied “talents.” She tells us—
“At that date it was considered necessary that every girl should
work; and before I was ten years of age I had made a shirt for
my father, all the parts being cut out and arranged by my
mother, sewing machines not being then invented. So, too, as it
was long before the days of Peak and Frean, or Huntley and
Palmer, for our childish parties, I used to help my mother make
all the biscuits, as well as the cakes and tarts. I remember one
large grown-up party which my parents gave, on which occasion
the door was smoothed in some way, and a very handsome border
painted round it by my father (an elaborate design about two
feet wide). This was my first appearance among grown-up people,
and I quite well remember the delight I felt at the idea of
being asked to dance by a very tall man, an engraver, whose name
I forget, whom I met in after years and found to be very
insignificant. The _belles_ of that evening were the Miss
Cumberlands, daughters of the publisher, for whom at that time
my father was painting a series of theatrical portraits.”
Among the celebrated actors forming this series were Charles Matthews,
Reeve, Harley, Mrs. Nesbit, Buckstone, Ellen Tree, Vandenhof, Macready,
and Dowton. At an early age “Fanny” had been taken to the theatre, of
which we learn that “at that date the Sadler’s Wells Theatre was held in
high repute. The stage was very large, and being situated near the New
River was able to utilize a great deal of water.” We may imagine the
excitement of the children over the arrival of these wonderful
personages; how they peered silently over the banisters, and how, when
the sittings were over, they stole into the studio to examine the
costumes which were left for the artist’s use, with what glee to
discover, for instance, that Vandenhof’s cap, in some great character,
was “made of a large blue sugar-bag covered with some coloured
material.”
Amateur theatricals were a favourite amusement at the young parties—at
first, when the kind father was the chief performer, in “a series of
dancing card figures, exhibited on a sheet as shadows, he writing and
reading the text;” afterwards, the performances were of more ambitious
character, at Mr. Wyand’s school, when the boys were allowed to invite
their sisters and friends, and “where the plays were written by the
boys, and the women’s parts taken by boys, to our great delight, as they
invariably tumbled over their skirts.”
In one play, the king’s part is taken by John Blockley, son of the
author of the then favourite song “Love Not,” in a play in which the
chief characters are “King Edward” and the “Sultan of Turkey,” Edward
being a “tall, thin, shy lad, who in the meekest possible way announced
that while he lived no Turkish prince should wield Edward’s sceptre” (a
folded sheet of exercise paper). “My brother Alfred contributed a large
cloak, lined with red, which continued to be a famous piece of stage
property. The swords, shields, etc., were made by my father.”
The pupils who knew the school when Miss Buss was in full vigour will
read with interest these early developments of the dramatic power which
played such part in the _tableaux vivants_, plays, charades, or costume
dances of that period. These entertainments, involving parties counted
by hundreds where ordinary folk have units, were a great feature of
school-life. They must have formed a delightful break in that excessive
study so condemned by the world outside, which assuredly in no wise
prevented the most hilarious enjoyment of these revels, shared by all,
from the dignified head down to the most frolicsome of the “little
ones.”
And for all readers it is pleasant to have these glimpses of the happy
home-life in which this loving nature had such free room for growth. So
much is implied as we see the busy father making time for play with his
children, as well as for “writing letters on grammar,” which the
studious little daughter “used to find on the stairs;” or again, as we
note the good mother, not less busy, kindly shutting her eyes to those
surreptitious studies under the sofa, instead of calling on her only
girl to take her part in amusing the younger children, of whom, in
course of time, one sister and eight brothers made their appearance in
the active household. Of these, however, only four brothers attained
manhood.
In later years the elder sister needed no bidding to stand by the mother
to whom she was devoted, and whose comfort and stay she became in the
long struggle with the many claims on a narrow income. In those days
life was a struggle to even the most distinguished artists, and fame was
by no means synonymous with fortune.
In the natural course of things more than one opportunity came to the
girl to change this home struggle for a life of her own under easier
auspices. And once she had felt the force of the temptation; but duty
had early become the watchword of her life; and as she looked at the
mother burdened with her weight of cares, the good daughter, at a cost
none but herself could measure, turned from the dreams of her girlhood,
from the hopes of womanhood, and kept her place by her mother’s side.
Years afterwards in a few words she tells us all the story—
“I have had real heart-ache, such as at intervals in earlier
life I had to bear: when I put aside marriage; when Mr. Laing
died; and again when my dearest mother, the brave, loving,
strong, tender woman, left all her children. I quite believe in
heart-ache! God’s ways are not our ways!”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER II.
GIRLHOOD.
“O’er wayward childhood would’st thou hold firm rule
And sun thee in the light of happy faces,
Love, hope, and patience, these must be thy graces,
And in thine own heart let them first keep school.”
COLERIDGE.
Of Miss Buss as a girl we have a very telling little sketch in her own
words, showing how this happy childhood merged only too quickly into a
girlhood early fitting her for the strenuous life-work towards which she
was moving on through long silent years of training.
“I may as well take this opportunity of saying that within a
month after I had reached my fourteenth birthday I began to
teach, and that never since, with the exception of holidays and
two occasions of serious illness, have I spent my days out of a
schoolroom. I was in sole charge of a large school for a week at
a time when I was sixteen. When I was twenty-three I was
mistress of a large private school, containing nearly a hundred
pupils; that hundred was turned into two hundred by the time I
was twenty-five.
“I mention these facts just to show you how intensely active my
life has been, for it is always to be borne in mind that in
addition to spending my days in the schoolroom, I had to gain
the whole of my education, such as it is, in the evening or in
the holidays, and that for some years in my early life there was
a great burden of money anxieties.
“You will see that I have never, therefore, known leisure. Of
late years, since the work has developed so much, I have done
less teaching, but until the last four or five years, and for
some years after the opening of the Cambridge Examinations, I
was the sole mistress of the highest class, teaching every
subject in it—English, French, German, and some Latin.
“After the Cambridge Examinations began it was necessary to be
free one hour in the morning, in order to see what was going on
in other classes.
“As a matter of fact, I have had to teach almost everything at
different times. For some years I assisted in the teaching of
model and freehand drawing.
“Circumstances never seemed favourable for my having time to do
anything, so to speak, but live inside the schoolroom, and there
carry into practice such theories as crossed my mind. I think it
would have been much better for me if I had been able to have
had a greater knowledge of the _theory_ of the profession by
private study, but hard practice has taught me something.”
In one of this girl’s early sayings—“Why are women so little thought of?
I would have girls trained to match their brothers!”—we have the
key-note of her harmonious life. It was experience transmuted into
sympathy. In the stress of her own girlish efforts she gained her
life-long feeling for the half-educated, on whom is too early laid the
burden of money getting. Then, when occasion demanded, she was ready to
give up her own ease, and to undertake the heavy work which has secured
to thousands of wage-earning girls the practical training of a thorough
education.
Not less plainly, also, do we see, in her desire to fit herself for her
own work, the first impetus to secure for all teachers the training
needed for their special calling; an object ever close to her heart, and
one in which her success will be her strongest claim to the gratitude of
future generations.
The claim of an increasing family was no doubt in this, as in so many
cases, the reason why the mother and daughter opened the first school in
Clarence Road. And then, like so many other sisters, this girl would
watch her brothers going off to school or college for the studies in
which she—_being a girl_—could have no share. But, like many a good
sister before and since, she would contentedly put aside her own dreams
or desires, doing her best to help her brothers. Such sacrifice was
taken simply as the highest duty, and thus turned to deepest delight;
but we can see how this loving obedience was in reality a storing up of
energy for the great revolution of which she had caught the earliest
intimations.
It is a pleasant thought to take in passing that this good
sister—happier than many—had brothers equally good. If she was all that
a sister could be she found in them good brothers, who were friends and
fellow-workers, helping her in all the great aims of her life. Her
eldest brother, the Rev. Alfred J. Buss, as clerk to the governing body
of the schools, quite relieved her mind from all anxiety concerning
business arrangements; whilst the religious instruction given by the
Rev. Septimus Buss carried on the early tradition of the school. There
was a wide gap between the eldest of the family and number seven, so
that her relation with this brother, after the mother’s death, was half
maternal as well as half sisterly. When he early became engaged to her
pupil, cousin, and friend, and thus gave her the truest and most tender
of sisters, the bond was doubled, and the children of this beloved
pair—her namesake _Francis_, especially—became as her very own. Her
letters are full of allusion to “my boy,” who was her joy from his
peculiarly engaging babyhood till he fulfilled her heart’s desire by
taking Holy Orders. His next brother followed in this example, first set
by the son of the Rev. A. J. Buss, now Minor Canon of Lincoln.
This clerical bent was very strong in the family. As a boy, Alfred
Joseph Buss shared his sister’s enthusiasm for teaching, and for any
hope of head-mastership Holy Orders were essential. Before he was out of
his teens he became the first assistant-master in the then newly opened
North London Collegiate School for Boys. He was also English tutor at
one time to the young Orleans princes. But later in life he found
himself drawn most strongly to the work of the parish priest. Septimus
Buss inherited so much of his father’s genius, that he seemed destined
for art, having a picture in the Royal Academy whilst only nineteen
years of age. But, though in obedience to his father he worked hard at
painting, he still had his own intentions, and worked harder at Greek
and Latin. Knowing, however, that there was at that time an extra strain
upon the family finances, he bravely kept his own wishes to himself till
he had earned the means of carrying them out. The story of these two
brothers is among the helpful and instructive tales that ought some day
to be written, to show what can be done by high aims and resolute will.
Of both it may be said that they are all the stronger as fighters in
their splendid battle against East End misery, because, in their own
boyhood, they knew how “to endure hardness as good soldiers.”
This attraction to the clerical profession was a natural sequence to
early associations. The most powerful influence of Miss Buss’ girlish
life was undoubtedly that of her revered friend of whom Mrs. Septimus
Buss writes, when alluding to—
“the earnest spiritual influence of the Rev. David Laing, who
built the church and schools of Holy Trinity, Kentish Town,
giving his whole fortune and his life to found the parish. His
teaching by precept and practice was self-sacrifice, and the
large-hearted charity that beareth all things, believeth all
things, hopeth all things, coupled with the wide culture that
welcomed new thought, and proved all things. His hospitable home
was constantly open to his parishioners, where he received them
among his cultured circle of literary, scientific, and artistic
friends. He at once took his stand by the North London
Collegiate School, while others waited till its success was
sure. We, oldest of old pupils, still thrill with somewhat of
the past enthusiasm when we recall his inspiring teaching. The
band of devoted workers he gathered round him in his
parish—which was then almost unique for the number of works of
charity carried on in it, and for the weekly lectures by Mr. S.
C. Hall and others—testified to his personal influence, the
motive power of which was not what he saw, but what he was.”
In memory of her lamented friend, Miss Buss, after his death,
established six “Laing Scholarships,” by which so many girls who needed
this help received a free education in her school. Thus for ten years
Mr. Laing’s memory was kept in mind. With the changes of 1870 these
Scholarships ceased, but Miss Buss’ devotion to Mrs. Laing knew no
intermission till her old friend’s death in 1876; and Miss Fawcett has
an interesting little comment on this unfailing thoughtfulness—
“All associated with our dear friend must have been struck with
her loyalty and faithfulness to her old friends. I am thinking
especially of her treatment of Mrs. Laing, for so many years.
Sunday by Sunday she went to see her after morning service as
regularly as the day came round; flowers were sent to her very
frequently, also nice books to read. On her birthday Miss Buss
never failed to see her before the school-work began.”
Among the school records there is a letter which is of interest as
showing the close relations which existed between Mr. and Mrs. Laing and
the school. It is addressed to the chairman presiding at the first
prize-day after the double loss which made so sad a change for the young
head-mistress—the death within a year of her mother and of Mr. Laing—
“REV. AND DEAR SIR,
“May I beg you to express my great regret at the
impossibility of my being at your meeting to-day? I do not say
that it would not have been very painful to attend, when two so
loved and honoured are missing since we last assembled for the
same purpose; but it is still more painful to stay away. I
wished to show my true interest in the cause Mr. Laing had so
much at heart; my warm regard for the friends he so much valued;
my deep sense of the respect and affection shown to his memory
in the establishment of the Laing Scholarships.
“Many to-day will remember how in much pain and weakness he
filled his place last year, but a few days before he took to the
bed whence he was to rise no more. It was the last evidence he
was permitted to give of his feeling with regard to the work
carried on here; and I feel I can do nothing better than adopt
that which in various ways he has so often said to me, ‘Miss
Buss is doing a great and good work. Hundreds will rise up and
call her blessed.’
“I am, yours faithfully,
“MARY E. LAING.”
To the influence of Mr. Laing, and of his no less admirable wife, Miss
Buss owed much of the mental and moral breadth for which she was
afterwards so distinguished. In their home she was always welcome,
finding a never-failing sympathy and encouragement. Often in our quiet
talks she delighted to refer to these early memories, speaking of the
advantage such a friendship had been to her in her young life; and to
this grateful memory it is probable that many of her own young
assistants, especially those least fortunate in their social
surroundings, may have owed much of the thoughtful kindness so valuable
to girls beginning their career as teachers.
With the knowledge of the satisfaction she would have felt in fuller
recognition of Mr. Laing’s services to education in general, as well as
in particular to her own school, it will not be out of place here to
give some notes supplied by the Rev. A. J. Buss, with his own comment on
them—
“There is much that I would say about the connection with Mr.
Laing—about himself as a great leader (almost unacknowledged) in
the educational movement of the latter half of this century. To
me the question is an interesting one, for I loved Mr. Laing as
a young man, and cherish his memory as most precious now that I
am advanced in life. It is at least remarkable that he who, as
honorary secretary and a member of the Board of Management of
the Governesses’ Benevolent Institution, took some part in the
foundation of Queen’s, should have been a prime mover in the
foundation of that school which has become the North London
Collegiate School for Girls, and has rendered possible, and
given such impetus to, the higher education of girls and women.”
The story of the rise of Queen’s College is of interest from many points
of view, beyond that concerning our present purpose of showing the
influences that inspired Frances Mary Buss with her special zeal for
education. In knowing Mr. Laing she came into direct touch with the
newest educational effort, and must have heard the whole question
discussed from all sides.
Mr. Laing, in 1843, rescued the Governesses’ Benevolent Institution from
decay, remaining its active honorary secretary till his death in 1860.
This society was formed—
“with the idea of benefiting governesses in every possible way;
to help in temporary difficulty; to provide annuities for aged
governesses; to help the younger to help themselves; to provide
a home for governesses during engagements, and an asylum for the
aged; also a system of registration, free of expense, to those
seeking engagements.”
The whole of these objects were contemplated in 1843, and, in 1844, were
a matter of negotiation with the National Society, with the Committee of
Council, and with the heads of the Church.
In giving an account of the early work—as a reply to an article in
_Fraser’s Magazine_ (July, 1849), commenting unfavourably on the efforts
that were then made—Mr. Laing shows that with the foundation of the
Governesses’ Benevolent Institution the first principles of all future
movements were really incorporated. He says—
“In undertaking an institution for the benefit of governesses,
it was felt to be absurd and short-sighted to remedy existing
evils without an attempt at their removal.... To do this the
character of the whole class must be raised, and there was the
bright thought that to raise the character of governesses as a
class was to raise the whole tone of Christian society
throughout the country.”
But it was easier to plan such a college than to carry out these plans,
and several years passed without practical results. Reference is made,
year by year, on the subject, in the annual reports of the Governesses’
Benevolent Institution.
In that for 1845, we find that “difficulties which the committee had not
anticipated, have arisen with the several authorities, from whom Boards
of Examiners, with power to grant a diploma of qualification, might
originate.”
In the report for 1846, “an act of incorporation and arrangements for a
diploma” are still “subjects of consideration, upon which the committee
are prepared to enter into communication with all parties friendly to
the cause. Unexpected difficulties still intervene.”
It was in 1848 that the Governesses’ Benevolent Institution received a
royal charter of incorporation, thus worded—
“We have been graciously pleased to permit the name of _Queen’s
College_, in which certificates of qualification are granted to
governesses, and in which arrangements have been made with
professors of high talent and standing in society to open
classes in all branches of female education.”
Queen’s College was governed by a council of gentlemen, and its first
principal, Professor Maurice, was followed by Professor Plumptre. A
committee of lady-visitors was formed, but the duties of these ladies
was merely to be present while the teaching was done by men. Among them
we find the familiar names of Mrs. S. C. Hall, Mrs. Marcet, Miss
Maurice, Mrs. Kay Shuttleworth, and Mrs. Hensleigh Wedgwood.
It would appear, from the report of 1849, that while the Governesses’
Benevolent Institution was thus working for better education for women
and girls, other schemes had been proposed, first by Miss Murray, one of
her Majesty’s ladies in waiting, and then by the professors of King’s
College. Eventually, the formation of a Committee of Education, of which
Mr. Laing and Professors Maurice and Nicolay were active members,
brought things to a practical point, as Professor Nicolay states[4] that
the “Committee of Education,” thus formed, did its work in connection
with, if not actually for, the Governesses’ Benevolent Institution.
Footnote 4:
In the _English Education Journal_, 1849.
In his inaugural lecture at Hanover Square, in 1848, Professor Maurice
shows how this institution, beginning with a provision for distress
among governesses, came to associate distress with incompetency, and
hence to provide better instruction. In like manner, beginning as
examiners, the professors soon found that before they could examine they
must first teach, and for this purpose organized the classes that grew
into Queen’s College.
In _Fraser’s Magazine_, early in the fifties, are to be found several
papers concerning the foundation of Queen’s College, thus finally summed
up by the editor—
“With reference to the article on Queen’s College in our last
number, Mr. Laing, as Hon. Sec. to the Governesses’ Benevolent
Institution, desires us to state that the society was in
communication with the Government and other parties respecting
the establishment of the college as early as 1844, whilst there
was no communication with the present professors until 1847; and
that her Majesty granted to the society the permission to use
the Royal name for the college before any connection was formed
with the present professors.
“Whilst, therefore, the success of the college is wholly
attributable to the character and talents of its teachers, the
college would have existed under any circumstances.”
In the same year, six months later, Bedford College was founded, mainly
by Mrs. Reid and Miss Bostock, and among the ladies interested we find
many names afterwards prominent in the movement for opening the
Universities to women, as those of Lady Romilly, Lady Belcher, Mrs.
(afterwards Lady) Crompton, Mrs. (afterwards Lady) Goldsmid, Mrs.
Jameson, Mrs. Bryan Walter Procter, Lady Pollock, Miss Julia Smith, Mrs.
Strutt (afterwards Lady Belper), Miss Emily Davies, Miss Anna Swanwick,
and Mrs. Hensleigh Wedgwood.
One distinct difference between Queen’s College and Bedford College is
that the first was managed by men, with a man as the principal and women
only as lady-visitors. Bedford College had from the first a mixed
committee, and the visitor who represented the head might be of either
sex. Latterly Miss Anna Swanwick has held this post. Results seem to
indicate the advantage of giving women an equal share in the education
of girls.
It was by Mr. Laing’s introduction that Miss Buss became one of the
first pupils of the evening classes at Queen’s College. The Queen’s
College of that day (1848) bore little resemblance to the colleges of a
quarter of a century later, but there was an enormous stride onwards in
the curriculum offered to its first pupils.
In her “History of Cheltenham College,” Miss Beale gives us a glimpse of
these classes—
“Queen’s College offered to grant certificates to
governesses.... My sisters and I were amongst some of the first
to offer ourselves for examination. For Holy Scripture the
examiner was the Rev. E. H. Plumptre, afterwards Dean of Wells,
so well known for his Biblical Commentaries, his great learning,
and his translations of the Greek dramatists and Dante. He also
examined in classics. In modern history and literature we had
the pleasure of being examined by Professor Maurice. The _viva
voce_ was a delightful conversation; he led us on by his
sympathetic manner and kindly appreciation so that we hardly
remembered he was an examiner. For French and German our
examiners were Professors Brasseur and Bernays; for mathematics,
Professor Hall and Mr. Cock; for music, Sterndale Bennett; and
for pedagogy, the head of the Battersea Training College.”
The names of the Rev. Charles Kingsley, for English literature and
composition; of Professor Nicolay, for history and geography; and of
Professor Hullah, for vocal music, also appear on the list.
It was of classes like these that, as a girl of twenty-one, Frances Mary
Buss became a happy pupil. Her father’s interest in art and science had
prepared her to enter into the spirit of such teaching, and to profit by
the influence of the great men who threw their whole souls into their
work. What this meant to the girls thus privileged is shown in lives
like those of Miss Buss, Miss Beale, Miss Frances Martin, or Miss Julia
Wedgwood, and many more perhaps less known to fame.
A memory comes back to me of an evening in 1881, spent at Myra Lodge,
where the difference between the old and the new order of things was
emphasized in a marked degree. Standing out from the far past, as
precursors of the new era, were Miss Buss herself, Miss Beale, and Miss
Frances Martin; midway, as a Schools Inquiry Commissioner, was Mr. J. G.
Fitch; while the moderns bloomed out in Dr. Sophie Bryant, one of the
earliest Cambridge Local candidates, and the very first woman-Doctor of
Science; Miss Rose Aitkin, B.A., stood for the arts; and, I think, Miss
Sara A. Burstall (since B.A.) as the first girl who had, like her
brothers, educated herself by her brains, passing, largely by
scholarships, up from the Camden School, through the Upper School, and
on to Girton.
It was a thing to remember to hear how the three elder women spoke of
the old and new days, and then to see what had been done for the girls
through their efforts. Miss Buss told us many things of her girlhood,
and her difficulties in fitting herself for her work; and especially of
the stimulus and delight of the new world of thought and feeling opened
by those first lectures. Miss Beale and Miss Martin, coming later, had
enjoyed all the advantages of Queen’s College, but they did not the less
appreciate those first lectures. As they spoke in glowing terms of
Professor Maurice, one could not but wish that he might have been there
to see the three grand women who have done so much for womanhood—pupils
worthy of even such a master.
The picture fixed itself in my mind of Frances Mary Buss, in the first
ardour of this new intellectual awakening. She was teaching all day in
her own school, so that she could take only the evening classes. There
were at that time no omnibuses, and night after night, her day’s work
done, the enthusiastic girl walked from Camden Town to Queen’s College
and back. Night after night she sat up into the small hours, entranced
by her new studies, preparing thus not only for the papers which won for
her the desired certificates, but for that greater future of which she
did not then even dream.
In her Autobiography, Miss Cobbe gives a very telling summary of the
education of the earlier part of this century, in her account of the
particular school in which her own education had been, as it was called,
“finished,” at a cost, for two years, of £1000. How she _began_ it for
herself afterwards she also tells, but of this finished portion she thus
writes—
“Nobody dreamed that any one of us could, in later life, be more
or less than an ornament to Society. That a pupil in that school
should become an artist or authoress would have been regarded as
a deplorable dereliction. Not that which was good or useful to
the community, or even that which would be delightful to
ourselves, but that which would make us admired in society was
the _raison d’être_ of such requirement.
“The education of women was probably at its lowest ebb about
half a century ago. It was at that period more pretentious than
it had ever been before, and infinitely more costly; and it was
likewise more shallow and senseless than can easily be believed.
To inspire young women with due gratitude for their present
privileges, won for them by my contemporaries, I can think of
nothing better than to acquaint them with some of the features
of school-life in England in the days of their mothers. I say
advisedly in those of their mothers, for in those of their
grandmothers things were by no means equally bad. There was much
less pretence, and more genuine instruction, so far as it
extended.”
We are justified in the conclusion that Mrs. Wyand’s school, in which
Frances Mary Buss received her training, as pupil and then as assistant,
was one of the survivals from this olden time. From one of the pupils,
who was there as a child while Miss Buss was assistant-mistress, we have
a sketch of Mrs. Wyand as a slight, erect little lady, with very dark
eyes, and with black hair, in the ringlets of that era, confined on each
side by tortoiseshell side-combs. She always wore long rustling silk
gowns, and altogether was an impressive personage, before whom the most
volatile schoolgirl at once grew staid and sober. Mention of Miss Buss
herself seems limited to a certain satisfaction in having carried
provocation to so great an extent as to make the young teacher cry. But
we may easily imagine that before the end of that encounter the tables
were turned, and that then may have begun the treatment of “naughty
girls” so successful in later life.
Thanks to the good training received under Mrs. Wyand, Miss Buss was
able, at the age of eighteen, to take an active part in the school
opened by Mrs. Buss in Clarence Road. Before she was twenty-three she
had gained the Queen’s College Diploma, and she then became the head of
the new school in Camden Street, which was the outcome of this first
venture.
The course of instruction included most of the subjects now taught, and
Miss Eleanor Begbie—who claims to have been the first pupil in Camden
Street, and who has been superintendent of the Sandall Road School,
familiar, therefore, with all new methods—affirms confidently that the
Science and Art classes taken by Mr. Buss were “as good, and quite as
interesting, as anything given now.”
This is confirmed by Mrs. Pierson, who says of these very happy
school-days—
“Her dear father greatly added to the enjoyment of school life
by giving us courses of lectures illustrated by diagrams on
geology, astronomy, botany, zoology, and chemistry, quite equal
to those given by highly paid professors of the present day, and
he gave them for love, and nothing extra was put down in the
bills, although each course was an education by itself, given in
his lucid and most interesting way.”
These lectures, as Mrs. S. Buss says in her reminiscences—
“awakened in many a pupil the thirst for reading and study. His
artistic talent, and the pleasant excursions for sketching from
Nature, were novel inspirations in the days when the ordinary
girlish specimens of copied drawings resembled nothing in
Nature. A good elocutionist himself, he taught us to read and
recite with expression.”
His daughter had the same gift, inherited or acquired, and her school
has always been specially distinguished in all examinations for the
excellence of the reading.
Mrs. S. Buss mentions, in addition to Mrs. Laing, as also specially
interested in the school—
“the Rev. Canon Dale, Vicar of St. Pancras, and his two sons,
Pelham and Lawford Dale; the Rev. Cornelius Hart, Vicar of Old
St. Pancras; the Rev. R. P. Clemenger, Vicar of St. Thomas’,
Agar Town; the Revs. E. Spooner and Charles Lee, the immediate
successors of Mr. Laing; the Countess of Hardwicke, one of the
earliest and most faithful friends of the school, whose
daughter, Lady Elizabeth Biddulph, still continues the yearly
prize for good conduct, and whose warm letter of sympathy, in
January, was one of the many we received. We all remember, too,
Judge Payne, and his witty impromptu verses at so many
prize-givings.”
When we listen to these memories of the earlier school-days, we cannot
dispute the position that—
“The foundation of the North London Collegiate School for Ladies
was not merely the commencement of one special school, but was
an era in education. If we _very old pupils_ can carry our mind
back to the time when the ‘Guide to Knowledge’ and ‘Mangnall’s
Questions’ were the chief standard school-books for most of the
scientific and historical instruction that girls received; when
the mildest _form_ of gymnastics (such as jumping over a stick
held a few inches above the ground) was deemed so unladylike
that some girls were withdrawn from the earliest classes formed;
when the study of the most rudimentary physiology horrified the
Mrs. Grundies of the period, who would not permit their
daughters to continue the course after the first lesson (like
the mother of later times at the primary school, who wrote to
the teacher, ‘Mrs. S—— asks that my Mary Jane do not go again to
those lessons where they talk about their bodies: first, which
it is nasty; and second, which it is rude!’); the time when we
learnt pages of dictionary, with meanings, _in the first class_,
and rules of dry-as-dust grammar, without any meaning to us for
years afterwards; the time when it was asserted and believed,
that a girl’s mind was incapable of grasping any mathematical
knowledge beyond the first four rules of arithmetic;—we can,
remembering those good old times, see what a wonderful stride
was taken in girls’ education by the North London Collegiate
School, even in its infancy. Can we not recall those long
tramps, to and fro, when the present North London Railway ran
only between Chalk Farm and Fenchurch Street, and when there was
no service of omnibuses between the various districts? Fares,
even when a conveyance could be had, were fares, sixpence or a
shilling. Do we not remember the overskirts insisted on by Miss
Buss as a protection from the wet, at a time when waterproof
clothing was unknown? What dressing and undressing went on round
the stove, where _Miss Reneau_ sat with the default list, to put
down the name of any too riotous girl! What a delight the giant
strides and see-saws were to the athletic young damsels of the
period, while the more staid elders waited anxiously for the
chance of a turn with the dear head-mistress, who gave up her
hour of leisure to talk and walk with us on the playground, and
give us a word of sympathy, counsel, or encouragement, or tell
some funny story, or teach some new game, sharing her brimming
cup of life with us all—ever regardless of her own need of
rest!”
From letters at this period we have a glimpse of this young
head-mistress at work and at play, both of which she did very
thoroughly. The work must have been rather overdone, and we may admire
the self-control which is remembered as so marked a characteristic, when
we see that it came from real self-conquest. In 1859 she writes to her
brother Septimus, speaking of herself and her cousin Maria (Mrs.
Septimus Buss)—
“As usual at this period—and, for that matter, at most
periods—of the year, we are over-worked. At times I am so
irritable I feel inclined to throw things at people, and twice
this week I have allowed myself to be provoked into a fit of
temper. It is so grievous afterwards to reflect upon. Why was I
made so gunpowdery? I do think, however, the provocation was
very great, though that, of course, is no excuse.”
The next letter is to her father in holiday-time:—
“Dinan, 1860.
“Everything has combined to make this holiday delightful, and I
am so well and happy, that I feel as if I was only twenty years
of age, instead of a hundred, as I do in Camden Street. I find
myself talking slang to the boys, and actually shouting fag-ends
of absurd choruses from mere lightheartedness.
“I am very sorry to say that I do not feel any more industrious,
though doubtless I shall have to recover from that complaint in
London. Also I regret to say that I have to-day incurred the
severe displeasure of our wee blue-eyed laddie!”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER III.
INFLUENCE.
“You were the sower of a deathless seed,
The reaper of a glorious harvest, too;
But man is greater than his greatest deed,
And nobler than your noblest work were you!”
EMILY HICKEY.
“I am always thinking of the first time I ever saw her—in the
old house in Camden Street, when I was seven years old, a timid
child, sent upstairs with a message, which I stood and mumbled
at the door. I remember her now—an elegant dark young lady, she
seemed to me—with curls and a low-necked dress, as we all had
then. She told me to come forward and deliver my message as if I
wasn’t frightened; and I remember now how her vigorous intensity
seemed to sweep me up like a strong wind. And that is forty-four
years ago!”
This graphic sketch, from the pen of Mrs. Alfred Marks, gives us the
young head of the new school as she must have looked in 1850, when the
first venture in Clarence Road became the North London Collegiate School
for Ladies, reconstructed after the lines of Queen’s College, founded
two years before.
Among the many appreciative notices with which the entire press of
England met the news of the death of one of the foremost educators of
the time, none went so straight to the mark as that of a country paper,
the _Bath Herald_, which seized on the most distinctive point of this
remarkable personality. After observing that it is rare for the
influence of a school-mistress to be felt beyond her immediate circle,
it thus proceeds—
“There is not a county of her native country, not a colony of
its empire, where the news of this death will not have saddened
the hearts of pupils and friends.
“When she began her great work the matter of girls’
education was still a ‘question.’ Miss Buss solved it in the
most direct and practical fashion; and every college for
women, and every high school for girls, is a memorial of her
labours. A personality of singular charm, and of what the
slang of the day calls ‘magnetism,’ wholly without pedantry
or self-consciousness, persuaded Royal Commissioners, City
Companies, Lord Mayors and Royal Princesses, physicians, and
even Universities, that women might be thoroughly educated
without any danger to themselves or the State. To mention
her name to any one of the many thousand pupils scattered
over the face of the earth, was to raise constantly emotions
of affection and pride. Undoubtedly she was one of the
‘pioneers’ of the century, and is secure of a niche in the
temples of memory and of fame.”
These words are written at the end of her career, but they were true
from the beginning. It is most truly characteristic of her that her
power was exercised without self-consciousness. On one occasion I had
remarked on her wonderful influence, and find her answer in a brief
sentence, after which she turns to some more practical subject with her
instinctive distaste for introspection or self-dissection: “What you say
about personal influence strikes me curiously. I cannot possibly measure
it or even understand it. To a certain extent I am conscious of an
influence over young girls, but am not able to explain it.”
To those who knew her well, the explanation comes readily enough as we
find her power of impressing others to be the result of the vividness of
her sympathy, and of the imagination which, transcending mere personal
limitations, is able actually to enter into the life of others, no
matter how diverse in temperament or in circumstances.
Speaking of her as she was in middle life, Mrs. Marks offers a
suggestion full of interest, as she says—
“Her utter spontaneity, her sense of people and things in their
living essences, made a very deep and lasting impression on me.
And some kind words she said to me—which showed she had seen
into my very heart—were a greater encouragement to me than I can
express. Their meaning was that she felt I was spontaneous, and
had not settled down into conventionality; and as things were
very real to me, it was a comfort to know that she too thought
them so.”
It was doubtless as a direct consequence of this vision of the “soul of
things” that the mere _names_ of things meant so much more to Miss Buss
than to most of us, to whom in general a name is the mere husk of the
thing it stands for. Seeing through these names as she did, they stood
to her for all the living reality of which they were the symbols. With
the _name_, she came into possession of all that went to make up the
personality represented by it. Surroundings, time, place, with every
other relation, became an inseparable part of any name that once fixed
itself in this truly royal memory. To every one who met her it was a
standing wonder how she could know so much of the thousands of girls who
had passed under her care. That she did know them is a fact that comes
into almost every memorial relating to her, from those first simple days
when she gave herself without stint to the little band of pupils, up to
the very last, when her circle of influence was bounded only by the
bounds of the empire itself.
It is not surprising that so many of these girls should bear for life
the impress of this strong influence. But still there is something to
call for comment in the depth of the feeling thus aroused. Before even
the suggestion of approaching death had lifted the veil of commonplace,
which so often hides from us the beauty of those with whom we walk the
dusty path of everyday life, there came, in answer to questions about
the “story of the school,” so many reminiscences of the early days,
giving the freshness of early enthusiasm, all undimmed by the daily
intercourse of nearly fifty years, that one could not but marvel.
Many of those first pupils have remained as teachers, many others have
settled in the neighbourhood as friends, and to not a few this deep
affection has been the master-passion of their lives. In the wisdom of
these later times it is thought well to chill the fervour of the too
engrossing devotion to which very young enthusiasts are prone. But
nothing seems to have checked the ardour of these early days, while only
good has resulted from a love which has moulded so many lives to
strength and beauty.
One of the old pupils says of this time—
“She was true, so staunch, so utterly wanting in all the little
pettinesses that so often mar even noble characters, that it is
no wonder we, her own girls, made a ‘hero’ of her and worshipped
her. But it was a noble worship, and killed our selfishness. We
wanted not so much her approbation, but to live such lives that,
could she know them, might deserve her approval.”
And another, of later date, commenting on the modern repression of
youthful enthusiasm, fixes on the point that essentially divides the
influence that is only life-giving from that which is sickly and morbid—
“Any devotion roused by her love and care for those brought into
contact with her never savoured of this foolish adoration,
because her sympathy, though so personal, was in a sense so
impersonal and altruistic. She helped people because they wanted
help, and not that _she_ might be an absorbing personality to
them.”
Of a piece with the selflessness of such ministry is another
characteristic mentioned by the same writer—
“There is one point which always specially struck and helped me,
and that was the wonderful way she had of bringing together
people who would help each other by virtue of her sympathetic
insight into character. Many most fruitful friendships must owe
their origin to her loving thought. Even when, from the fulness
of her own life, she was unable, to the same extent in the small
details, to ‘mother’ all her ‘children,’ yet she always had some
friend or ‘other child’ ready to go on with what she had begun.”
How she could keep to her old friends, when the pupil grew up to closer
intimacy, is shown in one of the letters written to me while she was
still amongst us. It is also touching in the light it throws on her
relation to the sanctities and sorrows of quiet home-life, and what she
could be to those who needed her. It is happy to remember that in the
lovely home of this dear pupil-friend the beloved teacher found rest and
refreshment in many a weary time; and we may thank Mrs. Pierson for this
glimpse into that deeper life, of which she writes from a full heart—
“It is not often that ladies contend for the honour of age, but
Miss Begbie and I have had one or two friendly squabbles as to
which of us is the elder ‘old pupil.’ _I think_ it was the
second term of the opening of dear Miss Buss’ school, in 1850,
that I became one of her happy pupils, and from that day to this
she has been my loving guide and friend, sharing many deep
sorrows and deeper joys. She has been so great an influence in
my life that I have always felt I could realize the verse, ‘For
a good man some would even dare to die.’
“In those early days we were a comparative handful of girls, and
had the benefit of Miss Buss’ society nearly all to ourselves,
enjoying the very cream of her young life, intellect, and
enthusiasm.
“It was all like fairyland teaching to me, and in the exuberance
of my enjoyment, I am obliged to confess that I was a little
troublesome, and often managed to upset the equilibrium of the
class, bringing upon myself the ordeal of a lecture in Miss
Buss’ private room after school. I always went into that room
raging like a young lioness, but invariably came out a plaintive
lamb, vowing never to offend again. In order to comfort and
soothe my passionate grief, dear Miss Buss often kept me to tea
with her and her pleasant family party, and I fear that that
enjoyment had a demoralizing effect upon my good resolutions.
“I was motherless when I first knew Miss Buss, and had been
utterly spoilt by an over-indulgent father until he married
again a lady quite out of sympathy with a girl of fourteen. I
should have turned into a veritable fury, and ended in
perdition, if I had not come across the spiritual influence of
dear Miss Buss. She supplied every want in my soul, and I gladly
gave myself to her loving guidance, often falling, but always
encouraged, until in after years I was strong enough to be able
to part with life’s best treasures one by one, and to say—
“‘It is well with my husband,
It is well with my child.’
“I could fill a volume with all dear Miss Buss has enabled me to
be, to do and to suffer, and with what she has been to me
through all—and _not to me only_, for all the girls of my time
worshipped her, and she never of _her_ own accord loses touch
with an old pupil. But what I have said will doubtless suffice
for your purpose.”
A large volume might indeed be filled with “memories”—extending from
those early days till a year ago—of the kindness and sympathy ever
flowing out from that time to this. It seemed to me very striking when
the same post brought two letters—one dating back to 1850, the other
only to 1890—and, spite of the forty years between, telling just the
same story.
The one shows us the young teacher standing at the parlour door, “with a
kiss for each pupil at the end of the day’s work,” with a “grace of
manner and gentle voice” deeply impressing the child to whom for
forty-four years afterwards she became “ever a most kind and constant
friend, ever ready with sympathy.”
Then comes a picture of a wild, daring girl, dashing to the end of the
long garden and back in the rain, on her return to be called into the
parlour to account for herself. Of the reproof she adds—
“I remember little but its gentleness, and the kind arm round me
while it was being given; but, at the end, I was required to
promise never to do anything because I was dared to do it. After
that Miss Buss led me by a silken thread all through my
school-days, though the other teachers often found me headstrong
and troublesome.”
There is an account of how Miss Buss ended a standing feud between the
girl and “Mademoiselle” by the exaction of a promise from the reluctant
pupil that she would set herself to win the French prize. And finally
comes the graver side of this happy relation—
“When at the age of thirteen I left school to go abroad, Miss
Buss still continued her kindness, writing to me while I was
away, and giving me kind welcome on my return. To see her again
was always my first thought after the home-greeting.
“After my first trouble she wrote thus to me—
“‘I feel much for you, dear E——. Your experience of life is
beginning early, and so is your discipline. Discipline, though
wholesome, is never pleasant. And then, when one is young, one’s
feelings are so acute. I remember what I went through at your
age, and under similar circumstances. Nevertheless, my greater
experience than yours, poor child, makes me confess that
“tribulation worketh patience.” Amidst all your trials, dear
E——, always trust me. I do not intend to let a light thing come
between me and “auld lang syne” folks.’”
The second letter is also from one of the madcap order—a wilful,
high-spirited bit of mischief, fascinating in her pranks, but often
enough a source of real anxiety to her teachers, and even to the
dignified head herself, known to this child only when almost worn out
with the long strain of school-life and of her heavy public work. But
here are words as straight from the child’s heart as from that of the
woman who could count back through nearly fifty years of friendship—
“Jan. 31, 1895.
“DEAR MISS EDWARDS,
“There is so much I want to say, but I do not know how to
say it. This distance is so awful.
“I think it is because I cannot realize that I shall never see
Miss Buss again. If I were near I could realize it better; it
seems more like some fearful dream to me.
“I wish I was near you to tell you how deeply I sympathize and
share in the sorrow that I know the loss of so kind and true a
friend must be to you.
“And how many hundreds of girls will feel the same!
“All the world over there will be hearts aching to think that
they will never see Miss Buss again.
“I can but judge others by myself, and I know that it was not
till I had left school, and had been out here some time, that I
realized more fully what a great blessing had been mine that I
had been allowed to know Miss Buss; that, while I was at the age
when girls most need loving, firm guidance, I should have had
_Her_ for a kind teacher and friend. It will always be to me one
of the best and happiest remembrances of my life, for I truly
feel it a great honour bestowed on me.”
There will always be the two kinds of girl—the one who is content with
the life of the present moment, and the one who “looks before and
after,” to whom the present moment is only a fixed point between past
and future. In speaking for herself, one of the first kind speaks for
many more, as she naïvely says, “I fancy we were too much occupied with
ourselves to think much about Miss Buss while we were at school!” The
second class speak for themselves in every variety of intensity, but all
to the same purpose: “No one can ever know what she was to me. All that
I am, and all that I have, I owe to her influence or to her help!” Over
and over comes the same cry, in which the blank of present loss
foretells the future loneliness bereft of the strength and comfort of
the past.
From one of the younger pupils we have again the growing sense of what
she had less kindly felt at the moment—
“I feel that there are so many women, not in England only, but
all over the world, who will rise up to call her ‘blessed.’ As
time goes on I more appreciate the training I had under her, and
it seems to me now, that but for her influence I could not
possibly have fulfilled the home and public duties that have
fallen to my lot, and that it has been a pleasure to me to
undertake.”
And yet another—
“We who were with her in the impressionable days of our youth
must all feel how much we owe her, in the view of life she gave
us, and the tone of healthy energy she brought into our lives. I
am sure her loss will be as widely felt as that of Arnold by his
old pupils long ago.”
To give the experience of all who come back year by year to give a
record of their work in hospital ward or East End slum, in home
workhouses or foreign missions, would be too heavy a task; but, as
illustrative of the wide range of influence exercised in matters social
and philanthropic, we may give a letter from one in whom the “Gospel of
Work” found an apt disciple.
Mrs. Heberden, one of the first three ladies elected as lady guardians
in St. Pancras, was, as Sarah Ward Andrews, one of the pupils of the
second decade, dating from 1861, but she has the same record of delight
in the teaching and the same devotion to the teacher as those of earlier
date. What most impressed her, however, she gives as follows:—
“During my stay Miss Buss’ mother died, and though in great
sorrow, she continued all her work. I remember her remark that,
‘Work, originally a curse to mankind, was now a blessing, not
permitting us to dwell on our trials and losses.’ From that time
Miss Buss was a great factor for all that is best and highest in
my life; and when, in 1873, I lived near her in Hampstead, I was
brought into active public life by her request. She asked me to
help in the School Board election of that year, when Miss
Chessar and Mrs. Cowell were returned for Marylebone.
“All the great interest I have taken in women’s work began then,
encouraged by Miss Buss’ earnest sympathy and advice.
“In 1880 I was elected Poor Law Guardian in St. Pancras, for the
ward in which Holy Trinity Church stands, where Miss Buss had
attended for a long time. Her name secured me much support;
without it, I doubt if I should have been returned, for the
opposition to Women Guardians was then very great, and the
difficulties enormous. Miss Buss’ counsel was most valuable to
me at this time as always, so wise and judicious. ‘Forward, but
not too fast,’ was ever her motto.”
Here is another word to the same purpose, from an East End hospital:—
“How many lives will be impoverished now! She was so true and
great-hearted. Wasn’t it wonderful how she remembered the
details of so many lives? She never treated us collectively. My
life would have been so different but for the time spent with
her. She prepared many for a sharp wrestle with life’s
difficulties. And how she remembered one’s home people too!
“Such a wave of sadness comes over me as I think of her; and
yet, what a life hers was to rejoice over! So full and generous.
Hers was such a rich loving nature. Surely many, thinking of
what she has done, may indeed ‘take heart again!’ If I felt
less, I might be able to say more.”
We could go on adding witness after witness in those who have thus loved
her. One thing only is more wonderful than this general love, and that
is the power of loving to which it all came as response. It is by
putting together the impressions of complete satisfaction given to each
of these many varying needs, that we finally reach some adequate
estimate of this grand personality. Each person in any relation to her,
had a special and real place in her regard, just as each child has its
own place in its mother’s heart—a place of its very own. In this wide
heart there was room for all, and each distinct and distinctly separate.
There was here no mere jumble of meaningless amiability. The loves and
the likings were quite definite. And possibly the dislikings also; but
of these no one heard very much. Of hate and scorn there was none for
anything but evil itself. Her practice, like her teaching, was “to be
merciless to the sin, but very tender to the sinner.”
Almost more telling, in their intensity of regret, than even these
thanksgivings for the joy of such a friendship, are the thoughts of one
who was “glad just to claim a place among the old pupils” in the crowded
church on that sad New Year’s Eve, when every heart in the vast assembly
beat in unison in the same love and sorrow. During life there seemed
always a vitalizing principle in the influence of the leader thus
mourned; and who may measure the latent forces set free in this great
wave of feeling?—forces that might help to bring about the hope of these
first words—
“As for the public loss, that is greater than we can understand,
because we shall never know how much she has done for women till
we know how much women will be able to do in the future. But she
helped more than women by what she did. She raised the whole
standard of life in raising the standard of women’s education.”
And then, in the light of this flash of insight into the greatness of
the work, comes a sense of personal loss, in a lament which seems to
bear with it the echo of all the sighs of all the women of past ages,
who desired and aspired, but yet strove in vain, to break the chains of
ignorance that held them bound—chains broken at length by this strong
hand!
How many a girl must have inwardly rebelled against the deadening
routine of the old conventional schools, though so few had the strength
by which this once “timid child” won her own freedom. Measuring what
have been by the force of that first never-forgotten impression of the
“vigorous intensity that swept her up like a strong wind,” her words of
regret that her school-life had not been spent under that influence come
as among the saddest of the laments of that sorrowful day—
“Thinking it over after she was gone, a perfect agony of regret
came over me that I was not always her pupil. In church, that
day, the regret was so pregnant that it almost stupefied me....
When I think that Miss Buss was at our very doors, I can
scarcely bear to look back. Think of what I might have been
saved—the unutterable loneliness of those five years, the
misery, the deliberate fostering, of set purpose, of a morbid
self-consciousness and self-distrust. Why, I have never got over
it! The deadening effect of those five years clings to me still.
I consider that it kept me back fifteen years. Instead of
leaving school broken-spirited and irresolute, I should have had
the inspiration of knowing that I had been part of the great
human movement. As it was, I had to grope my way to modern
thought.
“I made very few friends at school, and shrunk from all. If I
had gone _there_ I should have found a door open into the real
life I sought. But, above all, just think of exchanging Miss S——
for Miss Buss!—spontaneity for repression, an honest
straightforward ideal of duty, for a system based upon ‘Mason on
Self-knowledge’! (That book ought to be burnt by the common
hangman.)
“Oh, I thought some bitter thoughts as I sat that day among the
old pupils, thankful just to have the right to sit there at
all!”
There seems indeed good cause for regret that a nature so sensitive
should not have had full room for unchecked growth in the warm sunny
atmosphere of this school, when the young teacher was free to throw
herself into the lives of her pupils. Freedom of growth—with all the joy
of such freedom—forms the great wonder of those early days.
The proof of the true vitality of this growth is in the fact that these
early pupils came themselves into possession of that power of impressing
others which was so distinctive of their teacher.
I was very much struck by this fact when I first heard of Miss Buss from
one of these old pupils, Miss L. Agnes Jones, who, though only for a few
months under her influence, never lost the impression either of the
teaching or of the teacher, so unlike all previous experience. Years
afterwards, the time for action found her ready, and she became a potent
factor in the first stages of the change that has affected so many
lives.
All the “memories” from old pupils bear witness to the same thing, put
strongly by one who was afterwards a member of her staff:—
“She was to me a guide, a magnet, leading me on, higher and
higher, above all self-seeking, all petty vanities, all ignoble
ambitions.... I speak reverently when I say that her whole life
seems to me a sort of ladder or pulley to help us up nearer to
the Perfect Life lived on earth by our Great Model.”
One example of this life giving influence may be given, belonging to the
early days when, through Miss Jones, I also had come within its sphere,
and felt its fascination. Up to the day when, in a chance call on one of
us, she heard us talk of Miss Buss and her work, Miss Fanny Franks had
been quite content and happy as a somewhat exceptionally successful
daily governess, appreciated by her pupils and their parents, and taking
just pride in the instruction given after her own original fashion. She
taught in this way for part of five days a week, and, for the rest,
lived a pleasant girl-life at home with her sisters, all undisturbed by
educational theories.
One flash of the new inspiration was enough to change all this easy and
happy experience into struggle and effort. After the talk on that first
day Miss Franks had gone straight to Miss Buss and offered her services.
“But, my dear, you have had no training! In these days some credentials
are necessary,” was the sufficiently discouraging reply. But having now
seen Miss Buss for herself, there was no going back for the new
adherent. If training were necessary, training must be had. At what cost
is shown in her letter—
“Having given up so much to this end, I should be sorry not to
go on. By ‘going on’ I mean the examination, and by ‘giving up,’
leaving home and coming to live up here with only books for
seven or eight months. This examination and the hard study, and
the ill-health and spirits consequent thereupon, are the reasons
why I did not take an express-train to London immediately on
receipt of dear Miss Jones’ letter, which at any other time
would have gladdened me beyond expression. But it is all Miss
Buss’ fault. She first inspired me with the idea of an
examination. Had it not been for her I should, in happy
ignorance, have looked upon myself as a good and capable
teacher, not merely _in the making_—as now—but ready and fit to
do whatever she might propose.”
Having been the cause of so decided a change, Miss Buss was too loyal
not to do all in her power to make it a success. In her letters to me I
find allusions during the whole time which show her thoughtful
consideration of the best means to the end. She found a post in the
school, and lost no chance of fruitful suggestion. At her wish Miss
Franks attended Mr. Payne’s lectures, at the College of Preceptors, on
the Theory, History, and Practice of Education, and no one was more
pleased when Miss Franks came out as an Associate of the college. Again,
when Miss Franks finally discovered her true vocation, Miss Buss
arranged to give her two days a week for the Kindergarten experiments,
now so supreme a success.
And now, being herself a leader, with her own band of students taking a
foremost place in the Kindergarten movement, Miss Franks is only the
more loyal to her own chosen leader, and among the many expressions of
loss come her pathetic words—
“The sad time has come, and we have lost our wonderful friend.
Never will there be another Frances Buss! It makes me ache to
think of the faithful ones like Miss Begbie, and many others,
who have worked under her flag for so many years, and have lost
their splendid leader! Ah me! it is a sad time for us all!”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER IV.
HELPFULNESS.
“A mother, though no infant at thy breast
Was nursed, no children clung about thy knee;
Yet shall the generations call thee blest,
Mother of nobler women yet to be.”
_To F. M. B._
Just ten years after that picture of splendid vigour which had so taken
captive “the timid child of seven,” we have a companion portrait in a
not less lasting impression made on a shy girl of seventeen, who after
the long lapse of years, thus recalls that first interview—
“You ask me what it is which stands out most clearly in my early
recollections of our dear friend. It is nearly thirty-three
years since I saw her first, but I always remember her as I saw
her then. She was seated at her table (a round table) in what in
those days was always called ‘the parlour.’ It corresponded to
the ‘office’ of the present day, but with this difference, that
Miss Buss was always to be found there whenever she was not
occupied with her girls, in teaching or in superintending their
work. She was her own secretary, and we all became thoroughly
accustomed to seeing her writing there, but ready to lay aside
her pen and give her undivided attention to any one who needed
it. Indeed, to the best of my recollection, the door always
stood partly open. I felt there was something different about
her from what I was accustomed to observe in other women. There
was such a mingling of motherliness and sweetness with intense
earnestness and thoroughness about her work. She was at that
time in deep mourning. Her mother had died shortly before, and
also the Reverend David Laing, under whose wing she had begun,
and for several years carried on, her school. The double grief
had been felt very keenly, and she had been so ill that her hair
was already mingled with grey. I remember the way she dressed
it—the front hair being brought down over the ears, and the back
rolled under and covered with a black net. Her black dress was
plainly made, but fitted well. It was long, and made her look
taller than she was.
“I felt attracted to her at once, and, as I got to know her, I
found that my first impressions were more than justified by
experience.”
The change is very striking from the vivacious and vigorous young head
of the new school of 1850 and this grave, kind woman of 1860, a change
greater than the mere lapse of time can justify. But the loss of her
mother, followed so closely by that of her friend Mr. Laing, who had
been the mainstay of all her school career, must have been to her as the
uprooting of her very life. To the end she spoke of her mother with the
same deep tenderness. She had been friend as well as mother, a double
tie that meant so much as the daughter grew to be the helper. Family
claims took firm grasp of this loyal nature, and the mother’s death
meant also taking her place to the father, left for the time helpless
without the all-pervading care that had stood between him and all the
minor miseries that loom so large to the artist temperament.
How this trust was fulfilled shows in the daughter’s words when, fifteen
years afterwards, this work of love was ended.
“Jan. 3, 1875.
“On Saturday I go away with my father to Worthing. He has been
growing more and more feeble, and is a constant source of
anxiety. I feel that he needs me, and yet I cannot give up more
time to him than can be got on Sunday. But, you see, this means
Sunday as well as week-days. If you could peep in on me it would
be a pleasure to see your dear face. I think often of you in my
hurricane-speed life.”
“Feb. 11.
“My father is still very ill. It looks as if he were fading
away. He is so patient, gentle, and loving to us all, and
especially to me, that I can scarcely keep up.”
“Feb. 20.
“My heart is wrung with grief. My dear, dear father is, we
believe, sinking. I am going now to him, and shall stay in the
house. He likes to have my hand in his, and to speak faintly
from time to time of my mother. He tells me I alone can soothe
him as she did. He is very peaceful, and suffering no pain, but
he is too weak to help himself in the least.”
“Mar. 10.
“I am so sorry to know you are again ill. It makes me sigh. As
soon as I can I will call, but I am almost breaking down from
nervous prostration.
“My Liverpool journey, though likely to be useful, was trying.
It is full of my dear father.
“You cannot imagine how large a blank he has left in my life.
Only time can fill it up. He was the one person to whom I was
necessary, and to whom my presence always carried pleasure, and
I cannot get into the way of remembering that he is not.”
“Mar. 13.
“I am not well. Some old symptoms have returned, though not in a
bad form. I can get through the day, but my evenings and nights
are distressing. I am in a sort of anguish which does actually
seem to affect my heart. Yet I would not recall my dear, dear
father if I could. But nature must have some expression, and I
really loved him. Besides, I was nearest to him and closest to
him! Many things we understand better now.”
Knowing so well the power of a mother’s love, this daughter had grown
into that mother’s power of giving herself out, a power that is
universally felt as her chief characteristic. Here is a description of
her as she was at the time when this portrait is drawn—
“I think, in those early days, it was her sweet and motherly way
of drawing each one of us to her, and caring for each particular
person’s concerns, and remembering them, which impressed me more
than anything else, excepting indeed her very encouraging
manner. She lost no opportunity of saying a loving word of
praise, and it would be accompanied by a motherly hug, which
warmed one’s heart for a long time. That comfortable, loving
manner was a great power among teachers and pupils. Many a girl
who had given trouble in one department or another, would go out
of the parlour, after a talk with Miss Buss, thoroughly softened
and helped into a right frame of mind.”
This motherly kindness won the devotion of a lifetime from the lonely
girl so early called to face the world, and Caroline Fawcett well earned
her great privilege of being one of the little band whose love soothed
the last hours of the friend who had been so much in their lives. Her
latest thought, as she writes on that sad New Year’s Eve, is the same as
the first of so many years before—
“But, indeed, it must be a great miss for us, the never being
able to go to her for motherly loving sympathy. One of the
lights that will go on shining out of her life, and will kindle
others, is that loving motherliness. If one could only show a
little of it, following in her dear footsteps!”
This aspect of her character impressed even those who had to do with
Miss Buss outside her own work. Mr. Garrod, secretary to the Teachers’
Guild, who knew her in her public life, says of her: “To me she seemed
to be one who was born to shine as head of a family, and to have the
domestic rather than the public excellencies.”
Her school can fairly be regarded as her family, for she may be said to
have “mothered” them all—teachers as well as pupils—even in the later
days, when public work took so much of her attention. Miss Emily Hickey,
one of the visiting professors, who came so much less into contact with
her than did the teaching staff, puts this well, as she says of her
intense “motherliness”—
“There is no other word for it. No one brought into any
emotional contact with her, could fail to realize this, and one
can see how much it must have had to do in binding so fast to
her so many women so much younger than she, both in years and in
experience.”
Mrs. Marks says also—
“I remember when I saw her again some years afterwards, and I
remember how like a mother she seemed to me who wanted a mother
so dreadfully. Always after that I thought of her as a sort of
_universal mother_. There are few women like that!”
On reading these words, a pupil of later years adds to them—
“I, too, wanted a mother, and found so much of what I wanted in
her. These might have been my own words, and are, indeed, almost
identical with what I have said.”
And yet another—
“I have every reason to remember her with tender regard, and to
deeply regret her loss. From the fact that I was motherless, she
took an especial interest in my studies and health, making my
father and myself deeply grateful to her. I more than ever feel
what a friend I have lost. Camden Town is very lonely without
her.”
Mrs. Marks continues—
“And then the general impression of geniality and life which was
always so conspicuous! She was so _warm_, everything about her
was _infused with warmth_. There was no cold impersonality in
any of her thoughts. They were all alive. I need not say how
kind she was.”
This kindness was all-inclusive, going down to the least as well as
rising to the highest. Among the hundreds of letters of condolence
received by Miss Buss’ family was one from the firm which undertook the
charge of the school clocks, speaking strongly of the kind and gracious
way in which their _employés_ had always been treated.
And there is a characteristic story of her in connection with her old
cabman Downes, who drove her, year after year, to school and to church.
On one occasion, hurrying to catch the train to Cambridge, Downes upset
his cab, and Miss Buss was extricated without having time to decide
whether she was hurt or not, her business being too important to admit
of delay. Her first act on reaching her destination was to telegraph to
Downes to assure him that she was not hurt.
All records go to show how lasting was her interest in all who made any
claim on her, confirming the words of another of her staff, when she
says, “Girls, as soon as they left school, felt that they had a friend
ever ready to sympathize with them in sorrow or in joy. A happy marriage
was a delight to her”—a remark confirmed by a passage in one of Miss
Buss’ letters, where she says, “I wish Ada would bring Mr. Z—— to Myra.
I like to see my _sons-in-law_. He cannot be shyer than Mr. Q——.”
Here is a note just after the opening of the new buildings by the Prince
and Princess of Wales, written for the wedding-day of one of her pupils—
“DEAR MARY,
“Just a line to express my love and good wishes for you
and yours to-morrow.
“May God bless you in your new state of life! I shall be with
you in spirit, and think of you all.
“I hope you have received the little tea-table. The mats for it
have been delivered I know, but I am not sure about the table.
“I hope Eleanor will send me a short note to say where you have
gone, and to give me some account of to-morrow’s ceremony.
“With my dear love and good wishes,
“Believe me, yours affectionately,
“FRANCES M. BUSS.”
To “meet the glad with joyful smiles” would always have been easy to
her, but she was more often called “to wipe the weeping eyes;” for the
words of another of the recent pupils was curiously true—
“Of late years it has often struck me as melancholy that the
most successful and happiest of her old pupils, settled in homes
of their own, or teaching in schools at a distance, could do
little more than send an occasional letter, or pay a flying
visit, while numbers of the unsuccessful, the weak and helpless,
came back to her for the advice and help she never failed to
give. Seeing, as she did, numbers of these, she was very
strongly impressed by the absolute necessity for young girls to
be trained to some employment by which they might, if necessary,
earn a livelihood. For women to be dependent on brothers and
relations, she considered an evil to be avoided at all costs,
and she tried to keep before us the fact that training for any
work must develop a woman’s intellect and powers, and therefore
make her—married or single—a better and a nobler being.”
Another friend adds on this point—
“She was so kind and unprejudiced by unconventionality, that she
was just as interested and sympathetic and helpful towards an
old pupil, who came to her about trying to set up a business
(such as dressmaking or millinery), as she was to one going to
Girton or trying for a head-mistress-ship.”
As instance of the thoroughness that characterized her efforts to help
the girls, one of them gives a little experience which will come home to
many a mother, as she recalls the solicitude with which Miss Buss went
to any medical consultation needed by delicate girls under her care—
“I left school to become a governess myself, and during my first
holiday she made an opportunity for a quiet talk with me,
entering into all my plans and difficulties, and helping me
greatly by her wise and loving counsel. No effort was too great
for her to make, if she could thereby help or benefit any of us.
Many years later, when my sister had been under Dr. Playfair’s
treatment, he ordered her abroad, and she was to be accompanied
by a companion of whom he should approve. Miss Buss _not_ only
offered to let her join her party, shortly to start for
Marienbad, but _went_ herself to see Dr. Playfair at eight a.m.
(the only time she was free during term-time), in order that he
might be satisfied with her as an escort. This meeting proved a
mutual pleasure to them.”
It is pleasant to know that, out of this special thoughtfulness, there
came to Miss Buss, not only the companionship in travel, but frequent
resting in the happy home of these girls; and also—a very great
satisfaction—the gift to the school of the “Crane Scholarship,” to mark
their mother’s appreciation of this motherly care of her children.
But the help given so kindly was by no means limited to inspiration,
instruction, or advice, carefully and considerably as this might be
thought out for each separate case. Where the means of acting on her
suggestions were wanting her sympathy expressed itself in more tangible
terms. I remember, one day, after discussing ways and means in some
instance of this sort, stopping short, and saying to her, “Do you know
_how many_ girls you are helping at this moment?” In the most
matter-of-fact way she answered reflectively, “Well, I could scarcely
say, without going into the question!” Occasionally she would ask help
of some one of a little band of friends willing to give it—often of Miss
Laura Soames—so soon to follow her—and of Miss Edith Prance, and others.
But more often than not she said nothing about it, generally taking it
on herself. When the school had been her own this was easy enough, but
in a public school the fees must be paid even by the head-mistress
herself. She was, however, free to please herself as to the help she
gave at Myra Lodge, and those who may have made calculations of the
income derived from the pupils there, might, if they had known all, have
found themselves far from accurate in their sum total.
Here is a little story from far-away times, showing not only her
burdens, but that still rarer gift, her unwavering steadfastness to an
obligation once taken up—
“Among her friends was one family whose means were not in full
proportion to the large-heartedness which made the good mother
decide to keep as her own a little motherless baby, which she
had taken in during its mother’s fatal illness. Not only did her
own little daughters welcome the baby sister, but even the
over-worked father accepted without a murmur the sleepless
nights which were a small part of his contribution to the
new-comer. As soon as Miss Buss heard the story she said at
once, ‘And I must do my part. Her education shall be my care!’”
—a care that lasted beyond school-days, and included the finding of a
fitting occupation for later life.
Still another record may be added as typical of so many more; a story
none the less touching for the humorous way in which it is told—
“A SHORT TRIBUTE FROM ‘A LAME DOG.’
“The work of ‘helping lame dogs over stiles’ is not recognized
publicly or read on the list amongst the various names of the
good works and societies with which our dear Miss Buss was
connected, and probably only the ‘Lame Dogs’ themselves know
what a kind strong hand helped them to climb the dreaded
barrier; but surely among the many thousands who call themselves
‘Old North Londoners,’ or ‘Bussites,’ there is a long roll-call
of such silent work, deeply graven upon the hearts of those who,
like myself, _know_.
“The first morning on which I took my place in the class-room
among several other new-comers introduced me individually to
Miss Buss, for on hearing my name mentioned she called me to her
and asked how it was spelt. This impressed me very much at the
time, as I was the only one upon whom this honour was conferred,
and my surname was hardly one to deserve special attention.
“As time went on, however, the little extra notice was
sufficiently explained, for I discovered that another family in
the school bore a name nearly similar to my own, and indeed,
throughout my school-life, I was constantly being congratulated
upon honours never won, and credited with talents really
possessed by the happy bearer of the other name.
“This incident doubtless might appear to be trivial and
insignificant to many, but to one nervously entering a new
sphere of life this was not so; from that moment I felt I was
known to the head-mistress as having a separate individuality,
although insignificant enough among so many.
“A few years went on, and school-days passed happily enough,
without my having any special intercourse with Miss Buss, until,
owing to an unexpected crisis in affairs at home, it was
suddenly arranged for me to leave.
“Then it was that I really began to know our dear head-mistress,
and to realize what she was to her girls, and how much she cared
individually for each one.
“On a memorable morning for the second time she called me out to
have a chat with her, and fully discussed my future. She pointed
out the drudgery incumbent upon one who was only inefficiently
educated, and upon finding that my personal desire was to have
studied more thoroughly, she insisted most strongly upon my
remaining at school for another year.
“I held no scholarship, neither, as affairs then stood, could I
receive any help from home.
“All remonstrance was immediately swept aside. Miss Buss offered
to pay all school fees from her own pocket until I had earned at
least a matriculation certificate. She also insisted upon my
joining the gymnasium classes, which at that time were enjoyed
by those only who paid additional fees.
“How could such kindness be refused? From that time work was
sacred, and as the terms flew by and the examination loomed in
the near future, _failure_ became the one evil in the world most
to be dreaded. When the good news at last came out, and Miss
Buss, as excited over the result as the expectant candidates,
warmly congratulated us, she seemed to let each one know, in a
way peculiarly her own, what the pleasure or pain really meant
to her; to myself, having worked under high pressure, her silent
sympathy may be better understood than explained.
“She trusted us so thoroughly.
“My debt was never mentioned in any way by her, and it was only
on repaying the loan she told me she was glad to have the money
back, as she could then help others in a similar way.”
And there are so many who, like the writer of this story, also _know_,
though what they know is known to themselves alone. But still, even from
such vague hints as have come to them, many intimate friends can echo
Eleanor Begbie’s exclamation, as she ended an interesting talk about the
early days, “No one will ever know, on this side of the Day of Judgment,
how many girls owe all their education to Miss Buss!”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
BOOK II.
PUBLIC WORK.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
1860.
]
[Illustration:
1872.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER I.
TRANSITION.
“The old order changes, giving place to new.”
My first remembrance of Miss Buss—dating from October, 1870—is one that
will come up very vividly to all who remember her Tuesdays’ “at home,”
at Myra Lodge, and who will recall her gracious way of advancing, with
outstretched hand and welcoming smile, to meet her friends.
There was a touch of ceremoniousness in her reception of strangers that
made this smile seem all the sweeter, dispelling a certain awe excited
by the presence and dignity, the sense of power and purpose, which were
there as the natural outcome of the habit of rule from her childhood
upwards. She was rather below than above middle height, but she always
gave an impression of being taller than she was in reality.
No one could be with her in any close relation without speedily knowing
how really kind she was, and, after a very short acquaintance, it was
quite easy to believe the story that as Miss Buss made the announcement
of one of the first passes with honours, the delighted student, in the
exuberance of the joy at this success, seized the dignified
head-mistress, and whirled her round in an impromptu waltz, ending
without doubt in one of those loving embraces which gave so much warmth
to school-life; a warmth that carried her so happily through so many
long years of incessant strain.
The heavy responsibilities and many cares of her arduous life always
made Miss Buss look older than her years, even before she adopted the
distinctive style of dress which, though never out of the fashion, had
still a speciality of its own, which always made it seem appropriate.
She acted up to her theory that each person should take pains to
discover the style most suitable, and then, having found it, should keep
as near to it as possible. This she herself did, contriving at the same
time to keep in touch with prevailing fashions. Her gowns were always
well made—for school and for mornings of some strong serviceable black
material, with a simple collar and cap. For receptions, prize-days, and
evenings, she wore rich silk or satin, with cap and _fichu_ to match of
real lace—her one cherished “vanity.” She had a weakness for good lace,
not forgotten by her friends on anniversaries, so that she acquired a
good store of this valued possession. For ornaments she did not care
enough to buy them for herself, though as gifts she appreciated them
sufficiently. It was a matter of principle with her that it is no less
the pleasure than the duty of every woman to make the very best of her
appearance; a duty especially incumbent in those days on all who held
any views which could be called “advanced.” As Mrs. Marks says of her,
“there was about her an entire absence of peculiarity. Never any one
seemed less eccentric, and it was impossible for the most rabid opponent
of woman’s rights to say that she was ‘unsexed.’”
And just as she had a woman’s regard for her appearance, she also cared
about her house. The drawing-room of 1870 was not yet what it was
later—one of the first finished specimens of decorative household art.
That came years afterwards, with her full success. But even before that
era, though it might be simple and old-fashioned, it was certain to be
tasteful, and as artistic as was then possible.
In my very first talk with Miss Buss we touched at once at the point on
which she felt most deeply. I had been interested in the question of
employment for women, having written some papers for the _Art Journal_
on the “Art-work Open to Women,” in which I had come to the conclusion
that here, as everywhere, the chief obstacle to success lay in the want
of education and of training. A paper read by Dr. W. B. Hodgson at the
Social Science Congress, held in Newcastle-on-Tyne, in 1870, followed by
an able discussion, had proved the connecting link between the question
of employment and that of higher education, and I then recalled all I
had heard from my friend Miss Jones about Miss Buss’ schools and their
new developments.
After the Newcastle meeting I received the following note from Miss
Buss, which shows how things stood at that date:—
“12, Camden Street, Oct. 18, 1870.
“DEAR MADAM,
“At Miss L. A. Jones’ request, I forward you four proofs
of our appeal. What we now want is funds.
“As you will see, our list of subscriptions is very small. The
paper is as yet only a _proof_, because we cannot circulate
largely any statement, until the lease of the new house is
actually signed.
“When you return to town, I hope to have the pleasure of seeing
you. Agnes has often spoken of you to me, and I am glad to know
you are interested in our plans.
“If we can get one school for girls well started, the ice will
be broken, and many others will be set up in imitation.
“If you wish for further information, or for more copies of the
proof, I shall be glad to give you either.
“Believe me,
“Very truly yours,
“FRANCES M. BUSS.”
Pleased as I was with this first communication from one whom I had
already learned to admire, I could have no inkling of all it would mean
for me in the future, as the beginning of a friendship which steadily
deepened through the four and twenty years that followed; a friendship
which can only go on deepening after we cease to count by days or years,
since it is of the kind not begun for any ending.
As I left her that day the feeling of her life went with me in my
impression of the grief it had been to her, just as her pupils began
really to profit by her teaching, to be compelled to give so many of
them up. Social reasons, family reasons, financial reasons, no reason at
all—anything, in those days, was sufficient excuse for ending a girl’s
education. But, nevertheless, year by year, these same girls came back,
under the pressure of some unforeseen need, or even in the ordinary
course of things, as their fathers death broke up the family, to ask
their teacher’s advice how they might gain a livelihood, and to rack her
tender heart with the hopelessness of their lot. Half-educated, wholly
untrained, what could they do? They could do nothing. What she could do
for them as individuals was utterly inadequate, though she never failed
to do whatever might lie in her power. But each separate case that came
before her made her the more resolute to help them, as a whole, by
giving them the greatest good of all—_a thorough education_.
It is quite in keeping that the crowning work of her life should be the
outcome of the passion of helpfulness, in which this full mother-heart
poured itself out. She was a born educationalist, a teacher with the
whole bent of her nature, and she must in any case have devoted herself
to the task of making education a science. But her great schools were
the work not of her head, but of her heart, having their rise in her
feeling for the half-taught girls who were compelled to teach for a
livelihood. With her head she gave them the instruction and training
that would best help to this end. Then with her heart she made the gift
doubly precious, since she gave them not merely the means of living, but
also a life worth living; they were fitted for work, but, in the
inspiration of her own life, she made it work worth the doing; work that
enriched the world as well as the worker. It was her aim that teaching
should cease to be a mere trade—so many hours grudgingly given for so
much pay—and that it should take its true place as foremost among the
“learned professions,” in which excellence of work, and not work’s
reward, is the object of ambition.
From the time of her interview with the Commissioners in 1865, the idea
of making a public school for girls had been growing in her thoughts,
and, five years later, several of her own personal friends who shared
her feeling agreed to form a trust to ensure the permanence of the
system worked out with so much care.
The trust-deed was signed on July 26, 1870, by the Rev. Charles Lee, who
had succeeded the Rev. David Laing, at Holy Trinity, and by Dr. M. A.
Garvey and Mr. W. Timbrell Elliott. The Rev. A. J. Buss, who acted as
honorary secretary, and the Rev. S. Buss were also members of the Trust.
During the ensuing week the number was increased by the addition of Mrs.
Wm. Burbury, Mr. T. Harries, and Dr. Storrar, a member of the Schools
Inquiry Commission. During the next six months the Board was increased
by the election of Dr. Thorold, Mr. W. Danson, Mrs. Offord, Miss Ewart,
Miss Vincent Thompson, and myself.
Translated into plain fact, this trust-deed represents the transfer by
Miss Buss to the public of the results of twenty years’ labour. The
school was her own property, being merely under friendly supervision
from the St. Pancras’ clergy. The income was at her own disposal, and
out of school she was free to cultivate all the refined tastes with
which she was so richly endowed.
Until 1866 Miss Buss had remained with her father in Camden Street,
making no change in her life since her girlhood, and not even having a
banking account of her own. It had not occurred to any one that in
making the money she had any special right to it.
In this year it became desirable for her health that she should live
away from the school, and as Mr. Buss could not be induced to remove
from Camden Street, he remained there, in the care of a relative, while
Miss Buss went for a time to Mr. and Mrs. Septimus Buss, in Maitland
Park. But in 1868 it seemed necessary to prepare for the coming changes,
and she then took Myra Lodge, to which she removed the boarders who had
been under her supervision, though in the charge of Miss Mary Buss and
Miss Fawcett, at 15, Camden Street. She had to be prepared with some
alternative in case of failure; for on all sides she was warned against
a venture so rash as to be almost hopeless. Who was likely to send girls
to a “public school”? To make the experiment meant that the old
school—the work of so many years, and now a splendid success—must go.
What, then, would be left?
Success would mean the realization of the desire of her life—that
success which came at last after nine years of effort—success beyond all
hope. But in 1870 the experiment was more than doubtful, and the chance
of failure had to be boldly faced. She did not hesitate, and gave
herself to the labour of the new organization, with its anxiety,
struggles, and all the chances of failure. After having been all her
life her own mistress, she put herself under rule, and in addition to
the loss of personal freedom, she risked a present certainty, and the
prospect of future affluence, to accept for the next three years a
greatly diminished income with doubled or trebled work; giving up at the
same time assured honour and widespread reputation for misunderstanding,
suffering, and disappointment.
A letter written at the close of 1871, after a year of struggle, shows
how keenly she could feel these things—
“I am beginning to feel very hard and bitter. Were it not for
that Anchor to which alone one can cling, I should sometimes
lose all hope and faith. One gentleman, who can well afford £5,
who is largely mixed up with education, responds, in answer to
an appeal for that small sum, ‘Let Miss Buss do it; she has been
making heaps of money for years’! This is the general view, and
is one reason why I told you my name did no good, but rather the
reverse. At any time within the last ten years, having even then
a large connection and some reputation, I _could_ have ‘made
money;’ but how? By taking a grand house, a small number of
‘select’ pupils, offering fashionable accomplishments, and
asking high terms. In that case there would have been little
work and plenty of money! Even now, if I cut myself off from the
public schools, and lived in Myra Lodge, devoting myself to
twenty pupils, I could ‘make’ a good income, and live the life
of an independent lady!
“But as I have grown older the terrible sufferings of the women
of my own class, for want of good elementary training, have more
than ever intensified my earnest desire to lighten, ever so
little, the misery of women, brought up ‘to be married and taken
care of,’ and left alone in the world destitute. It is
impossible for words to express my fixed determination of
alleviating this evil—even to the small extent of one
neighbourhood only—were it only possible. If I could do without
salary I would; but it is literally true—although this is of
course to _you_ only—that I have to earn about £350 or £400 per
annum before there is anything for my own expenditure. This
house has been a great burden, but I hope it will pay in time; I
could not have surrendered the other place if I had not had
this, and that is why I undertook it.
“You see I, too, am growing very confidential!
“What work can do I have honestly tried to do. Money I have
never had to give, and if I had earned money as mentioned, I
should never have had the experience of numbers and consequent
sympathy.
“Pray destroy this note, and bury its contents in silence. You
can never know how much hope you have given me, as well as
practical help.”
Expecting that I should in the future write the story of this work, I
thought myself justified in not obeying this request, as now in breaking
the silence of four and twenty years.
Miss Buss began to work at eighteen, and worked till she was
sixty-eight, and she was one of the most successful women of her time;
but surprise is expressed that she could leave behind her the sum of
£18,000. Considering that her personal wants were very few, and that for
nearly twenty years she had £1300 a year from the school (£100 a year
and capitation fees) and from Myra Lodge not less than £2500, the wonder
rather is that she did not leave a great deal more. It is evident that
she must have spent largely, and it is certain that this expenditure was
not on herself.
As a point of principle—that good work should receive good pay—the
salaries in the Upper School are higher than in most schools.[5] As a
matter of principle also Miss Buss thought it right to make provision
for old age, as she did not mean to accept the pension which would have
been offered. And considering what she had been having, as well as the
accumulated claims of her generous life, this provision can surely not
be called extravagant.
Footnote 5:
“Some time ago I had occasion, on behalf of a joint committee of
head-mistresses and assistants of which I was a member, to make a
careful inquiry into the salaries of assistants, in the girls’ public
day schools, both endowed and proprietary. In the course of this
inquiry it came out that the North London Collegiate School _is able
to afford_, and does pay a higher average salary than any other of
those from which we obtained statistics.... The Camden School also
held its own, with salaries well above the means of those obtaining in
schools of its type.
“I agree in desiring the average salary to be much higher than it is
for assistant-mistresses and assistant-masters too. But I claim for
the great leader who has passed from amongst us, that in this matter
she has given the true lead.”—Letter from Mrs. Bryant, _Educational
Times_, March, 1895.
But in 1870 she had not begun to save on any large scale. And for the
next three years her gifts to the new movement were out of all
proportion to her receipts, while she was credited with the possession
of means that were non-existent, as well as with a salary which she
declined to take, knowing that the money was needed for working
expenses.
Myra Lodge, though at first an anxiety, was before long not merely a
success, but also a help to the school. In a note written at the end of
1873 Miss Buss remarks—
“It seems that I have paid from Myra, _in fees_ (paid by her for
her boarders), just about £850 in these three years: £200, £232,
and £410, and I have received in all (from the school) £1600. So
your head-mistress has not been a costly article!”
Counting the value of furniture, as well as the balance of salary not
accepted, Miss Buss gave during this period not less than £1000, besides
paying the £850 in fees from Myra. After the removal of the Upper School
from 202, Camden Road, as the lease was still in her possession, she
supervised a Preparatory School, the profits of which—£1500 in all—she
handed over to the governing body, thus supplying funds for the
gymnasium. Nor was this all; she made in addition to these gifts several
very helpful loans, without which the work must have come to a
standstill. Early in 1873 an entry on the minutes records the thanks of
the Governors—
“The Board wish to record their strong sense of the generosity
and public spirit shown by Miss Buss, when she last year pressed
the Board to take on mortgage the ground and building in Sandall
Road, for the enlargement of the North London Collegiate School,
and when, in March last, she proposed that a considerable sum
should be laid out in enlarging the building in Sandall Road;
Miss Buss in both cases sacrificing the additional income which
would have been hers, and undertaking at the same time still
greater responsibility and harder work.”
Under the new scheme Miss Buss’ own school remained as the Upper School,
but was removed to 202, Camden Road, leaving the former premises in
Camden Street, with most of the furniture and “school plant,” for the
new Lower School, of which the fees were fixed at £4 4_s._ per annum,
for a thorough education up to the age of sixteen years.
All the provisions of the scheme were in accordance with those proposed
by the Endowed Schools Commission, and it was intended that the fees
should meet only the working expenses, the buildings being supplied by
some endowment. For the Lower, or Camden School, the sum of £5000 was
considered sufficient, and it was not unnaturally imagined that this
moderate amount might be supplied by the same generous public which had
given £60,000 for a similar school for boys. For the Upper School only
£1000 was asked to supply the furniture left behind in Camden Street,
for the use of the Lower School.
In September, 1871, Miss Buss says of the Camden School—
“No furniture has been paid for at all; the school is poorly
supplied, and the teachers are badly paid. Instead of being rent
free, we pay £115 per annum, and rates, amounting at least to
£20 more.
“It is clear to me that all such schools need—First, to be rent
free; second, to have an endowment, largish or small, to keep
the buildings in repair and to offer scholarships; third, to
have all the school furniture and fittings given. Then, but not
till then, can the teachers be fairly paid, and the trustees
free from anxiety. For such a purpose, I imagine five or six
thousand pounds are wanted—say, £4000 for building, £1000 for
furniture, apparatus, and the rest for repairs, etc.
“For the Higher School the same kind of thing is wanted, only on
a more extensive scale, as furniture and fittings must be more
expensive. The higher fees would still be required to meet the
demand for higher teaching. According to my notions, gymnasiums
are needed for every school, and large places for swimming.”
But at the first start how natural it seemed to expect the small amount
of help which should do so much! “What we now want is funds!” And those
very modest sums then formed the total of this requirement. She asked no
more for the fulfilment of that early dream, “I want girls educated to
match their brothers.” Everything was there except the funds. The
educational system had been tested by experience and stamped by success;
the teacher, fitted at all points, was ready for work. Friends were
ready with time and thought to help in carrying out the work. Having
thus all the important essentials, who could doubt that the rest must
follow?
In our own enthusiasm for Miss Buss and her work it seemed to Miss Jones
and to me that all that was needed was to make the case known. We were
both accustomed to the use of our pens, and placed ourselves at Miss
Buss’ service, beginning first by an appeal to our own personal friends,
with enough of success at the outset to justify our going on. But we
soon discovered that beyond this range things were of a different order.
I had seen so much of the kindness shown by Mr. and Mrs. S. C. Hall to
all sorts of philanthropic effort that I fully counted on their help. In
addition to the _Art Journal_, Mr. Hall was editor of _Social Notes_,
and Mrs. Hall had not given up the _St. James’ Magazine_; so that we saw
here our way to a wider public.
The reply to my appeal seems worth giving _in extenso_, as a measure of
the public opinion of that day. If a woman who had made her own mark on
the world in ways out of the beaten track, could so write, what must
have been the feeling of the average woman, to say nothing of the
narrowminded and ignorant? Mrs. Hall was, besides, amongst the foremost
who showed interest in higher education in being one of the earliest of
the lady-visitors at Queen’s College.
Here is the letter—
“15, Ashley Place, Oct. 31, 1870.
“MY DEAR ANNIE,
“I dare say you learned a good deal at the Social Science
meetings. But women have no business on platforms. They have
enough, and more than they can accomplish, in performing the
duties which God and Nature have assigned them....
“I too am most anxious to find employment for women, and would
give every female, rich or poor, a _trade_—call it a profession
if you like—so that she could help herself. But this is not to
be done by sending her to _College Examinations_.
“There are not a greater set of ‘_muffs_’ and extravagant
fellows in life than our College lads. It is not by _them_ that
the _business_ of _life_ is carried on. Do you want to educate
girls in the ‘arts’ as practised in the Universities?
“I have no fault to find with the arrangements of the
_Lower_ School, except its incompetence to provide the means
which will enable women to exist. They should be taught
trades—painting on glass and china; hair-weaving; certain
branches of watchmaking (as abroad); confectionery;
_cooking_—each half-dozen going into training for this at
least once a week; clear-starching;—_trades_, in fact. When
I was a girl I went down once a week into the housekeeper’s
room to see how jellies and blanc-mange, soups, and pastry
were made; to learn the quantities _and help to do all she
did_.
“This did not prevent my accomplishments going on; or my riding
and enjoying all the amusements a country girl could have.
“If a revolution came I know I could have found pupils to teach
French and music to. I could have made a good nurse, or
housekeeper, or clear-starcher.
“I would also have every boy and girl learn the Latin grammar
first, or at the same time as the English. In law-copying, for
instance, which young women should be trained in later,
knowledge of Latin is invaluable.
“No; dear Mrs. Laing never told me of Miss Buss’ new plans. She
is really so good and right-thinking a woman that I wonder how
she would give the sanction of her practical name to any plan
embracing ‘College Examinations,’ by way of making women useful
or bread-earning members of society. Better, more useful
education in what can be more practically useful, without being
unsexed, is what they want, but are not likely to get while such
women as Emily Faithfull lead the van.
“I saw some time ago you were restless and uncertain on the
question of Woman’s Rights, which might almost be defined as
Man’s Wrongs. _Your_ head would work you up at one of the
Cambridge Examinations, and now and then work up a clever woman,
but what good was to arise from that if a revolution came I
cannot understand!
“I should, indeed, be astonished if your father ‘went in’ for
College Examinations for girls!
“I hope you will not endeavour to enlist X——’s sympathies in
College Examinations for women. Dear darling! any strong-minded
notions would be a source of trial to her admirable husband, and
do her no good.
“I am sorry you have taken up this matter.
“Yours sincerely,
“A. M. HALL.
“I shall have a great deal more to say on this matter hereafter,
if I live.”
This letter was as discouraging as it was unexpected. But I bided my
time. Happily, Miss Jones had succeeded better. She not only received a
donation of £30 from Miss Caroline Haddon, but Mrs. Offord, Miss
Haddon’s sister, became a member of the Board, and by her practical
knowledge gave a sympathy most helpful to Miss Buss. Hearty adherence
had also been secured from Mr. E. C. Robins, a successful architect, who
made schools his _spécialité_. Both Mr. and Mrs. Robins proved valuable
friends to Miss Buss’ work, as they have since done to the Hampstead
High School, to the New Technical Schools, and the Hampstead Branch of
the Parents’ Union, started by themselves.
Mr. Robins first of all demanded a personal statement of her needs from
Miss Buss, as he said—
“We are interested in _her_; in _her_ experience; in _her_
aspirations;—we want to know her ultimate aims. We want a sketch
contrasting what is provided for middle-class boys with what is
provided for middle-class girls; also how this particular scheme
is likely to effect the desired result.”
This paper was accordingly drawn up, with Miss Buss, Mrs. Robins, Miss
Jones, and myself as honorary secretaries, and we confidently expected
to get the £1000 which was then the modest limit of our hopes.
Soon after this all the friends of the movement were gathered together
at a drawing-room meeting at Myra Lodge, that they might see Miss Buss,
and hear from herself of her plans. Her notes at this time are in
curious contrast with those written nine years after in the height of
her fame—
“Nov. 20, 1870.
“MY DEAR MISS RIDLEY,
“Many thanks for your note; you have worked hard and
successfully. I have invited several people, but as yet the
number of acceptances only amount to fourteen.
“Mrs. De Morgan is interesting people in one plan.
“I hardly think we ought to ask Miss Garrett just _now_; she is
almost worn out with meetings, having been obliged to attend two
and even three a day, since the election excitement began.
“My notion is to get a mixed meeting, in Camden Street, the week
after next, and then we can have speeches from the gentlemen.
“I am hopeful about next Wednesday’s meeting; the thing is to
interest women, and to convince some of them of the necessity of
schools for girls. Then to answer as far as possible any
objections so that they may be armed to meet them.
“I have to go to a Council meeting in Queen’s Square, so am
rather hurried.
“Yours sincerely,
“FRANCES M. BUSS.”
“Myra Lodge, Dec. 1, 1870.
“DEAR AGNES,
“Will you and Miss Ridley make up a list of the names and
addresses of the ladies present at our meeting yesterday? Your
lists and mine will probably complete the number.
“Were you content? I thought it a great success to have so many
ladies. Including everyone, there must have been forty-two or
forty-three.
“There had been a meeting of trustees yesterday, when it was
decided that we should hold a parents’ meeting at Camden Street
next week, and a public meeting in the Vestry Hall the week
after. That is why I could not announce a meeting for next week.
“With love and best thanks,
“I am, yours affectionately,
“FRANCES M. BUSS.”
Certainly the thing then needed was “to interest women” generally in the
subject. There were, of course, a certain number of women deeply
interested in everything relating to the status of women, educational or
political. But at that special time these two groups were fully
occupied, the one with Miss Davies’ new venture at Hitchin, and the
other with Miss Garrett’s election on the School Board. These two ladies
themselves took full interest in Miss Buss’ plans, as she did in theirs.
But they all needed funds from the outside public, and demand and supply
were far from being equal.
Public opinion in 1870 was very much what it had been in 1849, and to
most persons the stir about improved education for women seemed very
unnecessary. Most women were quite satisfied with their own girls, and
did not trouble about the rest; and till women cared about the subject,
it could scarcely be expected that men would rouse themselves. Thus, out
of London’s millions those really concerned in this question might be
counted by hundreds, and persons who for objects that really interested
them would give hundreds, or even thousands, thought themselves very
generous if they gave units or tens to the new movement.
Nothing could show more clearly the indifference of the public to higher
education than the insignificance of the details of the work of the next
two years. They may, however, be worth noting, on the principle on which
the mother treasures the baby-shoes once belonging to the strong man,
who, since those first uncertain efforts, has left deep “footprints in
the sands of time.”
The year 1870 ended with what was then a very great and important
event—one of the very first public meetings concerning the education of
girls—held at the St. Pancras Vestry Hall, under the presidency of Lord
Lyttelton. Very considerable interest seemed to be excited in the larger
world outside the immediate circle of friends, and hopes rose. One
important practical issue came immediately in the addition to the
governing body of the Rev. A. W. Thorold, Vicar of St. Pancras
(afterwards Bishop of Rochester and of Winchester). Both in his official
capacity, and as having been a member of the Schools Inquiry Commission,
Dr. Thorold was a most valuable supporter of the work.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER II.
“WE WORK IN HOPE.”
“It never yet did hurt
To lay down likelihoods and forms of hope.”
With the success of this first public meeting, it was hoped that the
tide had turned. On February 15, 1871, a drawing-room meeting at the
house of Mr. E. C. Robins gave still further encouragement. I had
prepared a paper, entitled “Pearl and Sea-foam,” contrasting the solid
work of the education given to boys with the evanescent glitter of that
thought to be sufficient for girls, and giving an account of Miss Buss’
work and aims.
A good discussion followed, in which many persons interested in
education took part. The immediate result was the active adhesion of Mr.
John Neate, who undertook to interest some of the City Companies. This
was a real advance. Hitherto there had been a general agreement that
“something ought to be done,” and that “somebody ought to do it;” but it
was also generally agreed that “somebody else” was responsible for
action in the matter, and we had not yet found this very essential
personage. The discovery was now made that in the City Companies, which
had done so much for boys, we should without doubt find all that could
be desired.
The prospect did indeed seem hopeful. We had already on our own
governing body a member of the Merchant Taylors’ Company in Mr. W.
Timbrell Elliott. Our new friends, Mr. Robins and Mr. Neate, belonged to
the Dyers’ and the Clothworkers’ Companies, and all three gentlemen
became, within a short time, the Masters of their respective Companies.
We had, however, to wait quite till the end of the year before the first
large donation of £100 from the Fishmongers’ Company set the example,
afterwards followed by the Brewers’ and the Clothworkers’ Companies in
the gift of the school-buildings.
Mr. Robins printed the first copies of “Pearl and Sea-foam,” which were
found useful in our next effort to secure £500 in £5 donations, for the
barely necessary furniture in the two schools. Miss Buss had left the
greater part of her furniture in Camden Street, and had gone to an empty
building at 202, Camden Road; but about this time she writes—
“If we could raise £500 in addition to what we have, I think we
might, for the present, let the North London Collegiate School
go on alone.
“The first thing next term will be to apply to City Companies
for the _Camden_ School.
“I am very busy, as you can guess, and you will not mind this
work.
“I could send such a statement to some people, I think. But I
would suggest that the whole trouble should fall on you, by your
giving your name and address as Hon. Sec., or receiver, or
anything you like. Any names I obtained I would send to you.”
“March 23.
“What a very nice woman that Australian lady must be! Somehow I
have been in a depressed or out-of-tune condition all day, and
now—faithless that I am—your note comes to cheer me up and give
me fresh hope. How wonderful is the all-prevailing law of
compensation! Sunshine and shade vary our days.”
“March 27.
“The City people are not to be moved to do anything that is not
in the City. Honour and glory follow there, so there they will
work.
“Mr. Rogers is about to open his school, and when it is done, it
will be published, with a flourish of trumpets, ‘See what the
City does! It inaugurates a new era,’ etc. But, after all, what
matters it if the work is done?
“Mr. Rogers has already been attacked, I assure you. I went
straight off to Mr. Jowett, some time since, to strengthen him,
if necessary, by arguments in behalf of girls.
“Miss Davies helps me as much as she can, but her energies,
interests, hopes are all centred in the _College_. She cannot
well beg for two different things at one time, and it is for
this reason that she is not one of our trustees.
“There are three City men who have in their hands a capital sum
of £30,000—half of this is to be spent on _a_ girls’ school in
the City.
“Nothing but an organized opposition through the Charity
Commission will make them do anything else. £15,000 on _one_
school, and that in the City, where it is not wanted, especially
if Mr. Rogers’ school be opened! I mean to try and get a grant
out of them—they have given three grants, each of a thousand, to
Mr. Rogers—but, you will see, they will give another thousand to
him for his girls’ school, and they will give nothing to us,
because we are _not_ in the City.
“Here we begin with nothing—in the Camden School, at all events.
We must work on and get publicity, then we may get money.”
“March 27, 1871.
“Mrs. Grey’s letter came to-day. You will see that her paper may
help us a little, but not very much. I have no idea as to an
‘advocate.’ Dr. Hodgson is at Bournemouth—Mr. Cooke Taylor I
know nothing of—Mr. Lee is the only person I can think of now,
and there are several reasons against asking him. Between now
and the 31st could we not get some one to pay us a visit and
speak up for us?
“I will send Mrs. Grey your paper, but I rather think she had a
copy.
“My holiday trip was delightful....
“Will you tell me when we meet whether you would consent to
become one of ‘_my_’ trustees?”
“May 9, 1871.
“How brave and earnest you are! It is such a comfort to me! You
can have no idea of what work and worry I have to face, and
almost single-handed.
“Please accept my proposal to become a trustee. Your help will
be invaluable to me and to the Cause, and, as a trustee, you can
say and do much more for us.
“Let me know if you accept.”
“May 23, 1871.
“I want to see you very much. You were unanimously elected a
member of our Board yesterday, and were also, at _my_ request,
put on the Memorial Committee, which is to deal with the
question of applications for money from Companies, etc.
“I have written to ever so many people, but have no more names.
We have got a list of the Companies, of their clerks, of their
styles, ‘Worshipful,’ etc.
“The £5 collection was well received yesterday when I mentioned
it at our meeting, and the list has gone to the printer. I am
really quite hopeful about it.
“There are 112 girls in the Camden Schools now, and I want you
to write, if you can, to Irwin Cocks, Esq. (or Cox?), editor of
the _Queen_, 346, Strand, stating what we are doing, how we have
started this school, etc. He would probably insert it, and then
a friend, Miss Chessar, would write a short leader about it. It
seems rather too bad to trouble you, but I really am too
overdone with the inner work of the two schools to be able to do
much in the outer work.
“Mrs. Laing will put our papers into Mrs. Craik’s hands,
_to-morrow_—D. M. Muloch, I mean.
“Can you tell me for certain what is Sir John Bowring’s Company?
We must begin with that.”
Lady Bowring had gone over the schools with me, and, like all who saw
them, was charmed with her visit. She had promised to secure Sir John
Bowring’s interest with his own Company and with the Gilchrist Trust.
From the latter help came in scholarships.
But of the uses of “Pearl and Sea-foam” none gave me so much
satisfaction as this letter from Mrs. S. C. Hall—
“April 6, 1871.
“MY DEAR ANNIE,
“If it please God to prolong my days and my ability to
work, _after_ I have been able, by my exertions, to add a small
additional ward to the Great Northern Hospital, my _present_
impression is that I should like to help the educational plan of
Miss Buss. But I never could devote my heart to two things at
once, and that Great Northern Hospital is what I shall work and
beg for—and nothing else—during the next year. I hate bazaars,
but there is no other way that I know of to get the necessary
funds—except a concert—and, at present, I can only grope my way.
“Mr. Ruskin has not been here since Christmas, but I can say
anything to him, now that I know him so well; and, _after_ I
have had some hospital talk with him, I will give him your
‘Foam,’ and ask him to see Miss Buss’ schools.
“He is most charming. It always does my heart good to see him
playing with the dogs on the hearthrug. Oxford takes up a good
deal of his time. Miss Hill looks after his cottages. Dear
little Joan Agnew is to be married this month. I am so glad she
is to live at Denmark Hill. She is such a lovely darling.
“I am very glad Mr. Hall suggested that art work to you; only
don’t make yourself ill over it.
“With warm regards to all,
“Your affectionate friend,
“A. M. H.”
After Mrs. S. C. Hall’s first letter I had met at her house both Mrs.
Laing and the Rev. T. Pelham Dale, friends of Miss Buss, who warmly took
her part. After much effort, Mrs. Hall and Miss Buss met at last, being
mutually attracted.
Some extracts from Miss Buss’ letters at this time show how very busy
she was—
“Mrs. S. C. Hall and I have not converted each other yet. Why?
Because she was not well, and I did not go!”
And later—
“Mrs. Hall asked me yesterday to go to lunch with her to-morrow.
But, most unfortunately, I had engaged a railway carriage to
take the girls in my house to Windsor, and cannot possibly send
them without me. I could go to-morrow afternoon, but I have a
meeting of my Dorcas Committee, followed by a teachers’ meeting.
Both these must be given up if I go to Mrs. S. C. Hall’s, and,
as you have already met this Indian gentleman, it seems scarcely
worth while, either for you or me.
“I am glad Mrs. Hall is being led to see that a woman may have
cultivation, and yet be able to mend a glove. _Why_ people
should insist on thinking that the education which should make a
man must be injurious to a woman, is, to me, perplexing.”
Though Mrs. S. C. Hall declined to beg for us herself, she did very good
service in introducing Miss Geraldine Jewsbury, who threw herself heart
and soul into the work, bringing many useful friends, and, above all, by
her own bright, breezy nature, cheering Miss Buss in many an hour when
hope was low.
“Miss Jewsbury has raised again some hope—only I fear she has
not had so much experience as you and I, in asking and failing.
She is quite charming.
“Monday.
“These suggestions of Mr. Robins’ have been carried out, as you
see. By to-morrow night, every _member_ of every _court_ of
every _Company_ will have had an invite to Friday’s meeting, and
a circular of the Camden Schools.
“I have asked Miss Cobbe to help us to publicity, and Mr. Edwin
H. Abbott, of the City of London School, will speak. I will see
about Mr. Bompas.
“Invitations have been sent to every parent in both schools;
have been left at every house in the High Street.
“I have bought twenty-eight prizes, have ordered _labels_ to put
inside, have harangued the Camden girls, have divided all _my_
girls, and have had a dreadful day’s work. But one hopes on, and
I have been for years accustomed to find ‘after many days.’”
At the prize-giving of the Camden School the Lord Mayor (Sir T. Dakin)
took the chair, and there were present the Lady Mayoress, Mrs. Laing,
Mrs. Burbury, Miss Emily Davies, the Rev. Edwin Abbott, Mr. Fitch, Mr.
Joseph Payne, and other friends of Higher Education. Dr. Abbott,
head-master of the City of London School, spoke very strongly on the
duty of the Mayor and Corporation to provide for girls schools similar
to those of their brothers.
On the following day Lord Dartmouth presided over the meeting for the
Upper School, also held at St. George’s Hall, Langham Place, at which
Harvey Lewis, Esq., M.P., and Arthur Roebuck, Esq., M.P., Mrs. Grey,
Miss Jewsbury, Mrs. Henry Kingsley, and many others, were present.
A few days after the meetings, Miss Buss writes—
“We are _agitating_ beautifully. Dr. Storrar read me a private,
but very encouraging note from Lord Lyttelton, saying that we
should have some endowments as soon as they can lay their hands
on any.
“This will probably be very useful to us. As Mr. Robins says,
our school must be the first of a series, encircling the City.
Boys go immense distances to the City schools, showing it would
be better, physically and morally, to have the schools within
reach of the parents. Constant railway travelling is bad for
growing lads, and there is no telling the amount of moral injury
from companions in railway carriages, of whom the parents know
nothing.
“This cannot be tolerated for _girls_!...
“Do you smile inwardly at our getting the start? Whether
successful or not, we are first in the field, anyway, even in
the City. I feel quite lighthearted because—you will not
guess—but Mr. Danson has been at work over the accounts, all day
yesterday and all day to-day. He is so thoroughly business-like,
and so good-natured and patient, that it is a sensible relief to
me. He has time and knowledge, and is willing to devote both as
his share of work.
“I think we shall leave London, by the night mail, on Friday in
time to catch the Hull boat to Gottenburg, which starts at six
a.m. on Saturday.
“As I am always very sea-sick, the rest I so much want will be
got on board by means of being compelled to be still.
“My beginning of that last sentence wants an explanation, I see,
so now you have it. Collapse comes on, in a mild form, after
weeks of work, at the rate of fifteen hours _per diem_. I trust
by the time we reach Gottenburg to have recovered.
“Mr. Robins asked me to the Swan-hopping dinner; but as it is on
the 7th, I must not give up a week’s holiday for it. So Mr. Lee
is going to advocate our cause privately as opportunity serves.
“Mr. Elliott has invited me to the Merchant Taylors’ dinner, on
Thursday next, in the Crystal Palace. To that I am going; more,
however, from policy than from inclination, as it is very
possible I shall have to sit up best part of the night to pack
for my journey, and put away all other things until my return.”
“Did it ever occur to you that packing, etc., or indeed,
anything peculiarly womanly, is difficult, almost impossible to
a woman who leaves home, day after day, at 8.30, and does not
return, often—well, sometimes till 10.30 at night? That is my
programme lately. But how much I talk of myself....
“I am obliged to break off hastily. I have been waiting at Myra
Lodge for visitors who have not come! _Quel bonheur!_”
“July 24, 1871.
“This morning Mr. Lee and I met Dr. Storrar and Mr. Robins at
the Mansion House. The Lord Mayor spoke most pleasantly to us.
He will give us a note, which Mr. Lee proposes to have
lithographed, and a copy of this will accompany every memorial.
The Lord Mayor was particularly agreeable to me, and
congratulated me warmly; he is very much interested indeed, and
hopes to pay us a visit in working hours early next term. At all
events, the Lady Mayoress will come—we must keep her up to it.
The census shows a _steady decrease_ in residents in the City!”
“July 27, 1871.
“Pray read the attack on us in to-day’s _Times_. The fight has
begun. We are not really in opposition. Any school in the City
opened by Mr. Rogers will not prevent the necessity of a Camden
Town district school.
“I only trust the Lord Mayor will not _back out_!”
Happily, the Lord Mayor stood firm, and wrote a strong letter of appeal
to go out with the memorial to the City Companies.
Miss Buss’ holiday was most profitably spent in Sweden and Denmark,
where she gathered many educational facts and theories, and where she
found the Swedish desk, which she was the first to introduce into
English schools.
The September campaign began with the Lord Mayor’s appeal, but progress
was still very slow. Miss Geraldine Jewsbury’s warm sympathy was still a
great comfort, but her letters show the difficulties encountered.
Speaking of one friend, she says—
“I must neither ask her to subscribe nor to ask her husband; in
fact, I could not rouse her interest in _this_ quarter. She says
she and her husband have embarked so much in the cause of
education that they can do no more. But _it is all for boys_, of
course. However, £5 is £5, and I think more of it than any other
£5 I ever _earned_. I could never have believed in the
difficulty of getting money for such a good purpose if I had not
_tried_.
“Give my love to Miss Buss, and tell her not to lose heart. But
it is trying and uphill work! Only her example strengthens
others in all ways.”
“Selwood Park, Sept. 3, 1871.
“DEAR MISS RIDLEY,
“The enclosed letters will show you that I have not
forgotten that poor Mr. Ruskin was to be my main hope. His
illness has been very serious, and I know not at this moment
where he is. I shall certainly see him when there is any chance
of his being able to take thought of anything. I know how much
interest he would have taken in the schools, and, I hope, will
take in them yet.
“The lady in whom I most trusted to give me money has given me
_just_ nothing, and no promises even, nor expression of
interest, and the aggravating thing is the _reasons_ she gave!
She has anticipated for _two_ years the sum she gives to
charitable objects or social progress to—the Society for
Advancing Female Suffrage!!!
“I have been entirely unsuccessful so far, but am not going to
lose heart nor hope; for success does not depend on whether an
object is supported by many or by few. And I feel that these
schools are just the most important step that has yet been taken
for women, giving a solid foundation of good training, and Miss
Buss has been raised up and trained for the emergency. She is
doing the real needful work without minding the clatter of
nonsense that is being talked about Woman’s Rights, and all the
rest of it. The waste of _money_ is the least part of one’s
regret.
“My counsel and advice is, first, to write to the Lord Mayor and
tell him that his example would be readily followed, and entreat
him to lead the forlorn hope and give a small sum of money. I
would write the letter gladly, only _you_ can do it better, and
are in the midst of the business of the schools.
“I will write to Mr. Roebuck, and see if he can rouse any
interest. Do you also write to Mrs. Newmarch. Tell her the
urgency of the matter; write such a letter as she can give her
husband—not too long, but urgent. Write to Miss Cobbe, and beg
her to make an article of appeal in the _Echo_, and at the same
time interesting. Shoot all these arrows _at once_, and some of
them will hit.
“I feel ashamed and disgusted at the tardy and small response
you have met with; but, as nothing really good _ever_ dies out,
I am not cast down, and I feel just the same interest as at
first—I have still one card to play for you, as I have not made
my appeal to Mrs. Huth, and that I will do, both to her and her
husband, sending on your letter. Do not let Miss Buss lose
heart. Give my love to her, and tell her that though I have not
brought in anything yet it has not been for want of talking and
trying. There is always a dead pull in all undertakings to get
them uphill; the wheels seem to stick fast, but, after a while,
if _this pull is continued_, they move. Let me hear from you
again, please, and
“Believe me, yours very truly,
“GERALDINE E. JEWSBURY.”
I wrote to Mr. Ruskin, mentioning Miss Jewsbury’s request, and with
great pleasure received a kind letter in reply, expressing interest in
what I had told him of the school, and of the feeling of the founder.
But, having at least three times more work on his hands than he was able
for just then, he could do nothing till after the Christmas vacation,
when it might be possible for him to come to see what was being done and
what he might be able to do to forward the work.
It was always a regret to us that this visit never came to pass. Miss
Buss and her girls missed what would have been a great delight, and Mr.
Ruskin also missed the sight of healthy and womanly work and play which
could not have failed to please as well as to cheer him in its hope for
the future.
Miss Buss’ letters for the next few months show the effect of the strain
of suspense and of hope deferred—
“Myra Lodge, 10 p.m., Sept. 27, 1871.
“Not ten minutes’ leisure till now, dear Miss Ridley. Teaching
in the morning, a large Dorcas meeting in the afternoon, and an
overwhelming mass of business correspondence—not nearly gone
through yet, however.
“First, an answer from the Goldsmiths has come. You do not need
to be told what that answer is.
“An idea has struck me that it might be well for us to ask those
who have subscribed so far whether they give to one school more
than another? If not, let us divide the subscriptions, and so
hand over to Camden Street some of our money. This is _between
us_—just now, at least....
“I do not think we must, in any way, appear adverse to the City
movement under Mr. Rogers.
“I feel we have forced him into action, and, as our motive is to
help women generally, and not the women of Camden Town only, to
have driven him to act is one result, and a great one, of our
organization.
“Why I think of the division of subscriptions is that no doubt
some of the people would prefer to help the poorer school. If
so, I should prefer their subscriptions going in the way they
wanted. I am sure that my old pupils help their own old school,
and do not care for the new and unknown one....
“I have written to the Lady Mayoress, and will write to Miss
Cobbe, asking her to let me _call_. Of course I shall give her
your note. What a dear, bright, ever young heart Miss Jewsbury
has! If you had done nothing but interest her, your work would
have been _great_. She has saved me almost from despair at least
on two occasions.
“I don’t mind our Board meetings, and really have never but once
been like what we suppose a caged lion to be.
“It is now the amount of the work, and the sort of unsettled
state we are in, that overdo me. But Mr. Danson is helping to
reduce money matters to order, and to be relieved of the
management of that would be really a comfort.
“We have now 190 girls in the Camden School; one father has come
to live in the neighbourhood on purpose to send four girls. I
scarcely know what to do for teachers, and am in correspondence
with all sorts of people. Old pupils do not seem available, or
they are not mature enough.
“We must have some more furniture too, as there is not enough in
Camden Street for the present number. The ventilation in the
Camden Road is not nearly good enough; but I am compelled to
_act_, and so must risk observations from the Board. We ought to
be thinking of building for the Camden School; but money, money,
where is it to come from?
“I hear Mr. Mason, of Birmingham, who has just spent £200,000,
or some such sum, on his orphanage, intends to give £30,000 to
education. Mrs. Sheldon Amos went to him about the Working
Women’s College, and got a sort of promise. I always intended to
get at him if I could; so, hearing of her visit, I wrote
straight off to the wife of the Town Clerk of Birmingham, Mrs.
Hayes, to ask for an introduction, saying a visit to Birmingham
would be nothing if there were the least hope of getting help;
even if one only induced him to give part of the money to girls
at Birmingham something would be gained. A visit there is
therefore looming. Mrs. Hayes gives me a warm invitation to her
house. She knows me through an old pupil, who is governess to
her children, and called on me here when in London.
“(Ah, ah, how I wish we could get a fine building for the Camden
Road School! We do want a lecture hall and a gymnasium so much.)
“Two school concerts are on me next week, and a good deal to
think of in connection with them. Musical men are not easygoing:
each one will have the best places for his pupils; each will go
his own way. Most school-mistresses have to deal with one only;
I have three, and also three young women; the latter were fairly
manageable.
“A good second would be a great relief to me, and would enable
me to work at something less than express-train speed—a speed
that cannot be continued for very many years. It would be worth
while to raise the pay of my second, as she became more useful.
I never have time to prepare my lessons, which is almost
indispensable if one wishes to teach well.
“There has been quite an avalanche of storms raised by parents
lately, mainly because I have had to engage a governess _not_
trained in the school. She does not therefore understand our
ways, and causes me much worry; but she is really a good
Christian girl, one who will do well _in time_. But, as I tell
her, I have to suffer during the process of her instruction.
“If the Birmingham invite does not come this week, as I hope it
will not, on Friday I hope to go to Mrs. Hodgson, at
Bournemouth, till Monday night—Monday being our half-term
holiday, and most of my house-girls away. Mrs. H. is the
dearest, sweetest, brightest, most unselfish creature, and I
love her dearly! You will believe me, when I say how much I am
learning to love you. I cannot bear to hear of your being
_tired_. Pray take rest and get well.
“Always your loving
“F. M. B.”
There came at this juncture a very bright ray of encouragement in a
gratifying letter from the Princess of Wales. As the Queen had given her
name to the first College, it was thought that the Princess might do no
less for the first Public School for Girls, and the Memorial Committee
made the request, on the principle of “nothing venture, nothing have.”
The following letter was addressed to the Rev. Charles Lee, as the
chairman of the Memorial Committee:—
“SIR,
“I am directed by the Princess of Wales to acknowledge the
receipt of a letter signed by you, in conjunction with Dr. J.
Storrar, on behalf of the trustees and governors of the
institution established in Camden Town for the promotion of
secondary instruction for girls.
“Her Royal Highness fully recognizes the importance and great
need of improvement in the education of girls of the poorer
middle-class, and believes that the North London Collegiate
School for Girls, with its Lower School, will not only to some
extent meet this want, but that it will also serve as a model to
similar schools, the establishment of which in other parts of
the Metropolis, and in the country generally, it may encourage.
“The Princess of Wales, therefore, has much pleasure in acceding
to the request that her Royal Highness would allow these schools
to be placed under her patronage, and has directed me to forward
to you the enclosed cheque for fifty guineas as her Royal
Highness’ contribution to the funds of the undertaking.
“I have the honour to be, sir,
“Your most obedient servant,
“M. HOLZMANN, Private
Secretary.
“Sandringham, Nov. 15, 1871.”
In response to this cheering bit of news Miss Jewsbury at once wrote
off—
“Manchester, Nov. 26, 1871.
“I _am_ very glad indeed about the Princess. It is the best of
all the many kind things she has done. _How_ did you get at her?
“I will write myself to Mr. Novelli, and am going on Tuesday to
Sir Joseph Whitworth’s, and will see if I can move him to help
us! Give my love to Miss Buss. She will ‘see the fruit of her
doings’ yet; and she does not know how much her patient
endurance has strengthened the hands of the many (of whom she
may never hear) who are wearied and ready to lose heart in their
labours. I can speak of what her example is to myself.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER III.
“THE SISTERS OF THE BOYS.”
“No man will give his son a stone if he asks for bread; but
thousands of men have given their daughters diamonds when they
asked for books, and coiled serpents of vanity and dissipation
round their necks when they asked for wholesome food and
beneficent employment.”—F. P. COBBE.
The great event of the year 1871—from the educational point of view—was
the meeting of the Society of Arts, at which Mrs. William Grey read her
able paper on Secondary Education for Girls, in which was contained the
germ of the Women’s National Education Union, and the Girls’ Public Day
Schools Company. The chair was taken by the Rev. William Rogers, whose
great school for boys in Cowper Street was just completed, and the
audience included most of the distinguished leaders in educational
movements.
Mrs. Grey took up the question of higher education for women in all its
bearings, and, recognizing the needs which had to be met, proposed the
formation of “an Educational League,” to embrace all who were actively
interested in the question, and having for its object—
“to carry what might be characterized as the Educational Charter
of Women—first, the equal right of women to the education
considered best for human beings; second, the equal right of
women to a share in the existing educational endowments of the
country, and to be considered, not less than boys, in the
creation of any new endowments; third, the registration of
teachers, with such other measures as may raise teaching as a
profession no less honourable and honoured for women than it is
for men.”
The discussion following this paper will always retain historic value,
because, as both sides had free scope, it represents the exact estimate
of women which prevailed at that period. For the women of the twentieth
century—in the serene enjoyment of the results of the work of the
nineteenth century—it will have an interest of which wonder will form no
small part. The women of 1871, as they listened, had long since ceased
to wonder, but they had other feelings which, happily for the readers of
1971, will also have acquired the historic value which attaches to all
relics of a far-away past.
It was when presiding at this meeting that Mr. Rogers made the speech,
of which every one heard so much during the next two years, a speech
that showed how he also had yet to learn from experience the difference
between efforts for boys’ and efforts for girls’ schools.
In proposing the vote of thanks for Mrs. Grey’s paper, Mr. Rogers
remarked that he could not agree with one statement—that there was no
demand on the part of parents for a higher education; on the contrary,
there was a widespread dissatisfaction with the present state of things.
Being anxious to establish a girls’ school in connection with the Boys’
Middle-class School in London, he sent round a paper to the parents of
the boys—numbering about eleven hundred—asking their opinion, and he
received answers, and promises that the girls should be sent, from about
five hundred. He also disputed the statement that “where pounds were
subscribed for the boys there was difficulty in getting shillings for
the girls,” as he believed that funds would be forthcoming so soon as
the real difficulty—of suitable sites and good teachers—had been met.
In passing, it may here be noted that during the year following this
meeting Mr. Rogers succeeded in securing the required site and teachers,
and thereupon made his appeal for the girls—the “sisters of the boys.”
For the boys, _in one single meeting_, he had obtained promises of
£60,000, to which another £10,000 was added. It was the work of months
to collect for the girls the sum of £5000, much less than one-tenth of
what had been given for the boys. What eventually became of this £5000
will be told in due course.
On the strength of Mr. Rogers’ speech at Mrs. Grey’s meeting, I wrote a
letter to the _Daily News_, stating that the Camden School was in full
possession of the essential points of teachers and pupils, and now
needed only £5000 for a suitable building.
To this appeal there was no response in money; but, on July 6, 1871, I
had a note from Miss Buss which showed that interest had been excited—
“DEAR MISS RIDLEY,
“Miss Mary Gurney has been here to-day, and she talks of
writing a paper for the Leeds meeting of the Social Science. I
told her about you, and asked her to write to you, and I also
said that a sketch of this, the only public school for girls,
would probably lead to more useful, because more positive,
results than another paper on the general question of girls’
education.
“Miss Gurney is the daughter of the shorthand writer to the
House of Commons, and is deeply interested in all educational
questions.
“She has made our acquaintance _only_ from your newspaper
paragraph.
“I felt what the little children call naughty on Monday—wearied,
dejected, worried, and over-anxious!! But body prevails, as you
know, over mind, and I felt very sorry for what I said to you.
“I send you a _Daily News_ of to-day. The leader will help on
our appeal. Only the editor, all the way through, speaks of
‘boys’ instead of ‘children,’ which would include boys and
girls.
“We meet to-morrow?
“Always yours,
“FRANCES M. BUSS.”
Early in July a letter of mine in _Public Opinion_ had been followed by
a discussion on endowments for girls’ schools, which I finally summed up
as follows:—
“Now, however, we may hope. In this implied support of the Lord
Mayor we see far more than help to the Camden School. We see in
it a hope of some large and united public effort, through which
the Camden School will be only the first of a series encircling
London, and everywhere meeting the same want. A great step has
been taken in the City, in Mr. Rogers’ proposed new schools
there. Two other City schools are also proposed. It must be
remembered, however, that the resident City population is
steadily diminishing. To benefit girls truly the schools should
come to them in the suburbs.”
Referring to this hope, Miss Gurney writes—
“I am extremely obliged to you for your kindness in thinking of
my paper, and sending me such a helpful letter about it. I will
get the _Illustrated News_. I will also venture to write to Miss
Cobbe, and I will look at your letter in _Public Opinion_. I
think I have advocated just the same view in my paper. The
difficulty seems to be to constitute the central authority. Any
Middle-class scheme ought to be very superior to our Elementary
Education, which has grave defects. And then, where are our
suitable teachers to be found? From my experience of the world
there are few people like Miss Buss. It will never do to have
the teachers of Elementary schools. But of course all these
difficulties must be met with spirit.
“I have been so much interested in your arguments in favour of
public schools, of many of which I had not thought, but I agree
with all. I should have liked to copy it into my paper, and have
acknowledged your kind help, but had not room; so I have stolen
some of your ideas, which I hope you will pardon, and have woven
them in with a curious German report from Frankfurt. Your
thoughts in favour of a ‘mixture of classes’ and ‘true
independence’ have long been favourite hobbies of mine; but your
idea of an _esprit de corps_ was quite new to me, and I think it
most valuable.”
In the _Echo_ of October 10, 1871, there is a report of the Social
Science Meeting at Leeds, saying—
“The time of the Education Department to-day was wasted for a
long time by two factious men. They spoiled the discussion of
the papers by Mrs. Grey and Miss Gurney on the special
requirements for the improvement of the education of girls, by
two childish speeches, the one in disparagement, the other in
eulogy of woman. Mr. Baines (the president) had the greatest
difficulty in shutting them up.”
In the same day’s issue of the _Echo_ there is a somewhat sarcastic
letter from Miss Cobbe, commenting on Mr. Rogers’ happy visions of help
for girls’ education, and demanding the practical realization so long
deferred, and especially advocating the claims of the Camden School to a
fraction of the help so liberally bestowed on the brothers of these
girls.
The outcome of Mrs. Grey’s papers—read before the Society of Arts and
the Social Science Congress at Leeds—was a large and enthusiastic
meeting in London, in November, 1871, when the Women’s National
Education Union was formally inaugurated, with Mrs. Grey as president
for the first year. In the year following H.R.H. the Princess Louise
(Marchioness of Lorne) became president, with a goodly array of
well-known names as vice-presidents, and an acting committee of
Educationalists, professional and amateur. Of this committee, Mr. Joseph
Payne, Chairman of the College of Preceptors, became the chairman till
his death in 1875.
The _Woman’s Education Journal_, edited by Miss Shirreff and Mr. G. C.
T. Bartley, served as the special organ of the Union, lasting for over
ten years, and containing a summary of the most important events of a
decade rich in interest for all women.
Miss Buss’ Journal-letters refer to the rise of the Women’s Education
Union, and also to a suggestion made by a friend that Mrs. Grey, having
the public ear, should make an appeal through the _Times_ for the Camden
School—
“Nov. 1, 1871.
“DEAR MISS RIDLEY,
“Miss Gurney called on Monday. She is willing to join Mrs.
Grey’s association—the National Union for Improving Women’s
Education, or some such name. May I give in your name as a
member, and _perhaps_ worker? I think we ought now to print an
account of what we have done—what say you? Your pamphlet, ‘Pearl
and Sea-foam,’ is almost out—I have only two copies. From what
Miss Gurney said, I think she would write a pamphlet, but I told
her I would consult you. Please tell me your opinion.
“When you can, I want you to enter into our inner life, and then
some fine day write an account of it—perhaps after my time, who
can say? At all events, a detailed account of Cheltenham College
for Ladies was read, at a Social Science Congress one year, and
perhaps you might do a similar thing for us at a future time.
“There is a talk of getting representatives of different
educational bodies on Mrs. Grey’s National Union Committee. If
so, I hope you will represent us. But that appointment must be
made by the Board.
“This must be the tenth letter, so you will forgive its jerky
style. Our concerts went off well and were well attended.
“Your very loving
“ARNIE.
“You do not know my ‘pet name’—that given me by my dear wee
nephew?”
Miss Buss was elected on the Council of the Education Union as
representative of the school-mistresses Association. She was also of
great use in sending information, through me, to a sub-committee of
which I was for a time a member.
In readiness for the need of which Miss Buss speaks I had been
collecting material for an enlargement of “Pearl and Sea-foam,” but as
Miss Gurney was willing to make the schools the text of her pamphlet
(issued later as No. 3 of the Women’s Education Union Series), her offer
was gladly accepted. In this pamphlet Miss Buss’ schools are recognized
as the model on which those of the Girls’ Public Day Schools’ Company
were afterwards formed.
In December, 1871, Miss Gurney writes—
“I am extremely obliged for all the trouble you have taken with
my paper. It has been a very difficult task, especially after
writing on the same subject before. I hope you will read my
Leeds paper in the _Englishwoman’s Review_ last month.
“I most fully feel the truth of all you say about Miss Buss. I
think her personal influence most wonderful; and, although I
cannot say that she has awakened any _new_ enthusiasm in me,
because an educational enthusiasm has been always a part of
myself, yet I think I am able to see and appreciate her _rare_
worth and talent.
“And yet, in this paper, we must not say anything which will
appear like flattery to those who do not know her.”
Miss Buss’ own words gave her appreciation of the help rendered to her
own work by this pamphlet—
“Myra Lodge, March 25, 1872.
“MY DEAR MISS GURNEY,
“The pamphlet shall go out to-day to Mrs. Gilbert. It
seems to me that we cannot circulate your paper too widely. Will
you order another one thousand copies, or, if you think more
will be wanted, let us have two thousand.
“Should not a copy be sent to the members of the Council of the
Society of Arts, and of the Social Science? Copies will be
wanted for the annual meetings of both these societies.
“On all hands I hear how glad people are to have so clear a
statement of our plans.
“The Merchant Taylors have given us fifty guineas and the Dyers
five. _As yet_, no other Companies have responded to our
appeal....
“Dr. Hodgson says he has read your paper with great interest,
and that he trusts this strong appeal may help us. He asks
whence you quoted him?
“By his advice, I have sent some copies away. During the Easter
recess—from the 17th to the 29th of April—I hope to go to
Edinburgh, in order to see the five schools of the Merchant
Companies: 4400 pupils under one management—two schools for
boys, and two for girls (one of the latter with 1200 pupils, and
the other with 500), and one mixed school.
“Do you see the _Examiner_? It is very liberal in the women’s
questions. A pamphlet, containing a reprint of many—well,
_several_—of its articles has just been issued.
“I think you will not mind my saying that _every one_ likes
_your_ pamphlet—so far as my knowledge goes. When are we to pay
for the first edition?
“With all kind regards,
“Believe me, yours most truly,
“FRANCES M. BUSS.
“To Miss Gurney.”
But this comes some months later. In the mean time, Mrs. Grey had to buy
the experience that afterwards led to the formation of the new company.
The Journal-letter of November 18, 1871, alludes to the inaugural
meeting of the Women’s Education Union—
“Nov. 18, 1871.
“Mrs. Grey’s meeting was well attended yesterday, but oddly
enough not one word was said of our schools. This does not
matter much, however.
“Mr. Forster’s suggestion is admirable, and ought to be carried
into execution at once. I think Mrs. Grey would make the appeal;
at all events, I will ask her this evening. For the Camden
School only, however, for women, we want about £5000.
“It will not do to include the other at present. Miss Gurney has
begun her paper, but I am not very clear about it. I was so
worried by visitors on Wednesday, when she came, that she and I
got only half an hour together, as she had to rush off to Mrs.
Grey’s committee.
“If only an agency could be started, with which I was not
ostensibly connected, what a comfort it would be! But just now
the applications for governesses are overwhelming, and they
entail correspondence which is not compatible with the inner
school-work, which _I_ ought to do. But at present I see no
outlet. I never have leisure to prepare any lessons at all, and
it is only this week I have even been able to give an account of
my holiday trip to Sweden—among the pupils. Denmark is waiting
still; it is necessary to digest one’s materials, to draw up
heads, etc., and these require leisure.
“Do you remember the peasant girl, now a first-rate teacher in
Stockholm? Also the Danish peasant girl, who is mistress of the
orphanage at Holstermunde?...”
“Dec. 8, 1871.
“I fear my last note was pitched in a low key. Mrs. Grey’s
letter enclosed will show you there is no occasion for
jubilation, but I am better, having nearly struggled through my
heavy cold.
“We had a very long sitting on Monday, but got through some
business, one part of which was that the Treasurers were
empowered to take another house for the Camden School rather
than refuse pupils! I gave my furniture, valued at £140, in the
Camden School, to the trust. My scholarship is to be invested in
Consols, to my disgust, as that will only produce 3 per cent.
“Mr. Harries and Miss Ewart are to audit the accounts on the
22nd, and I wonder where the accounts would be if Mr. Danson did
not give so much help to us. Do you know, Mr. Danson is
perfectly delightful. He is so business-like, so kind and
patient, that I can’t see what I should do without him on the
one side, and a certain Annie R. on the other. And I mean this.
“We are all quite sick with anxiety about the Prince of Wales,
who is said to be dying. I cannot help being sad about the poor
little Princess—_our_ Princess. My dear love to you. My little
housemaid is waiting for this to post it, and it is past ten, so
good night.”
“Board Room, 202, Camden Road, Dec. 12, 1871.
“_Trust for carrying on the North London Collegiate School for
Girls._
“Look at this!
“DEAR ANNIE,
“Are we not getting business-like! Mr. Forster’s
suggestion of a lecture from Professor J. R. Seeley is a good
one, but I doubt whether we should get as much as £100 from the
lecture; and as Professor Seeley is already largely pledged to
the Hitchin College, I also doubt whether he would lecture for
our movement only. But we can try. I know both Professor and
Mrs. Seeley. They have visited me at Myra, and I have visited
them. Mrs. Seeley is a niece of Mrs. De Morgan.
“Your loving
“ARNIE.”
This last suggestion came to nothing, but Mrs. Grey wrote to the
_Times_, setting forth in the strongest way possible the claim of girls
in general to the help so freely given to boys, as well as the special
claim of the Camden School, not only as recognition of Miss Buss’
services, but from the fact that the school was in full work, and
therefore proved conclusively not only the need for such a school, but
also that this need could be met. She told how Miss Buss, “with a
self-sacrifice as rare as it is noble, had voluntarily handed over the
fruits of twenty years’ labours” for the benefit of girls, and then, for
these same girls, asks that Miss Buss’ generosity may be supplemented,
for the two schools, by a quarter of the amount given to the one school
for boys in Cowper Street, since, otherwise, it is to be feared that—
“these schools and their able and devoted principal, Miss Buss,
must break down under the strain put upon them, and a great work
which has already done so much for the better training of girls,
and promises to do more, will have to be abandoned.”
Among my correspondence of this date, I find a note respecting this
appeal which might account in some measure for the small response it
received—
“The _Times_ won’t do things gracefully. I enclose you Mrs.
Grey’s admirable appeal on behalf of the Camden Schools, which I
cut out of the _outer sheet_ of the issue of yesterday. The
redeeming feature is that the letter is what printers call
‘displayed.’ Unfortunately, however, people who buy the paper at
the bookstalls frequently leave the advertisement part behind!”
Within a month after this first letter Mrs. Grey wrote again to the
_Times_, stating in detail the response given to Mr. Rogers’ appeals for
boys, and giving as her own experience, concerning the appeal for girls
of the same class, the following most noteworthy result:—
“The answer to my appeal for the Camden Town Schools for Girls,
founded by the energy, ability, and generosity of Miss Buss, has
been £47 2_s._ 6_d._, of which £20 would have been given whether
my letter had been written or not; so that the net result of my
appeal to this great Metropolis on behalf of the sisters of the
boys for whom such a magnificent endowment has been received has
been, in fact, just £27 2_s._ 6_d._”
This second letter brought in about £100 more, raising the result of
Mrs. Grey’s appeal to £147 2_s._ 6_d._ The total amount collected by
all, _after three years of hard work_, came to not more than £700.
And yet Miss Jewsbury’s hopeful words, written about this time, were
quite true. Public interest was roused, though not as yet to the point
of generous giving. Miss Jewsbury writes—
“Give my love to Miss Buss, and wish her a happy New Year. The
idea of a thorough education for women has now, I think, taken
hold of the public mind, and will be followed by the desire to
obtain it. Miss Buss’s schools will bring forth abundant fruit.
She has borne the burden and _cold_ of the day, but her work
will take root. There was a notice of Mrs. Grey’s letter in the
_Manchester Examiner and Times_, and a leading article too. I
had seen a nice letter of Mrs. S. C. Hall’s yesterday. Yes, Mrs.
Grey _is_ charming, and _good_ to the core.”
The subject was in all the papers. Miss Cobbe did good service in the
_Echo_, and Miss Chessar in the _Queen_. Our hopes had naturally risen
high when Mrs. Grey took the question up so warmly. The disappointment
was proportionately great.
And, bad as this might seem, there was yet more to follow. During the
six months since the reading of Mrs. Grey’s paper before the Society of
Arts, Mr. Rogers had collected £5000 for a girls’ school in the City.
But some City endowments—the “Datchelor Charity” and others—had been
found available for girls’ education. Consequently, at the seventh
annual meeting of “the Corporation formed for Promoting Middle-class
Education in the City of London _and the Suburbs_,” it was proposed that
the £5000—_collected for girls expressly_—should be used for the new
hall of the Cowper Street School for Boys (already endowed with
£60,000), this particular sum being just what would make up the £11,000
needed for a new hall.
Several voices, notably that of Alderman Besley, were raised against
this act, and mention was made that this sum was all that was asked by
the Camden School, _in the suburbs_, and very close to the City. But the
motion was carried.
It was to no purpose that leading journals, as well as “educational
enthusiasts,” were “aghast at the announcement that a sum of money
contributed for the special purpose of endowing a middle-class school
for girls is to be devoted to the purpose of beautifying and enlarging
the present middle-class school for boys.” The thing was done.
That the school on which so much had already been expended should, in
addition, take the sum, which, comparatively small as it was, would have
sufficiently endowed the one existing school for girls of the same
class, was a blow calculated to wound to the utmost the women who were
devoting themselves heart and soul to the effort to help these girls.
Mrs. Grey, in a letter to the _Times_, expresses this natural feeling
with a strength that was not in excess of the provocation received, as
she says, “It was with painful astonishment, not unmingled with bitter
feelings,” that she had read the report of the meeting. Her letter ends
with a still stronger appeal to the editor—
“Will you, sir, not raise, in the name of the nation, a protest
which cannot be so easily set aside? Will you not at least make
it clear to the public that this is not a woman’s question, but
a man’s question, a national question, and that to leave
uneducated one-half of the people—and that the half which moulds
the associations, habits, and life of the other half—is a course
so suicidal that of the nation which deliberately follows it we
are tempted to exclaim in bitterness of soul, ‘Quem deus vult
perdere prius dementat’?”
Miss Buss naturally shared in this bitter feeling, to which she thus
refers—
“You have received my outburst of indignation about the City
corporation? Fancy coolly alienating the money collected for a
girls’ school, and then handing it to the boys’ school, on which
ONLY £60,000 have been spent! Then the land in Southwark,
purchased as the site of another school, is to be sold, and the
proceeds handed over to the same school. Of course, it would be
infinitely more useful to build a school at Southwark than to
spend the money on the City school.
“A protest might well be sent from us against the recent act in
the City—on public and general grounds. Of course we could not
have any claim to that £5000. But it is no matter. Do not
trouble about it. But I do feel so impatient and weary
sometimes! Still, I try to be faithful. Unto the end, let us
hope!
“Really, I am very despairing, spite of success so far.”
But “impatience” and “despair” were never more than passing moods with
this strong, brave spirit, whose faith went deep down below all check or
discouragement. Here are two notes which end the year 1871 and lead in
1872—
“Myra Lodge, Christmas Morning.
“MY DEAR ‘ANNIE,’
“A very, very happy Christmas to you and to all you love!
“Will you read Mrs. Grey’s note?
“Will you come here for me, or will it be less fatiguing to you,
for me to meet you at the Swiss Cottage Railway Station? Please
send word by bearer, and the hour. If the latter plan be agreed
on, we had better meet at 10.30 or 10.45.
“After our interview with Mrs. Grey, will you return to lunch
with me, and let us have a quiet afternoon together? A _quiet_
afternoon for me will be delightful. No consciousness of work
neglected, and no responsibility, will make it really enjoyable
to me.
“If you will return here, I will ask Agnes to come also.
“Yours always affectionately,
“ARNIE.”
“Ryde, New Year’s Day, 1872.
“MY DEAR ANNIE,
“A very happy New Year to you and yours! Will you accept
the enclosed motto,[6] in loving remembrance of Arnie and New
Year’s Day? It is a motto one needs to keep in constant
remembrance. It is the hardest of all life’s lessons, that of
resigning one’s self to an All-guiding and Almighty Hand
above....
“I am already much better for leaving behind all
responsibilities. It is very cold. On Friday, or Saturday, I
expect to go to Sea Moor House, Bournemouth, Hants (Mrs.
Hodgson’s), for a few days. My love to you and to Agnes.
“Yours always affectionately,
“ARNIE.”
Footnote 6:
This motto is, “O God, for Christ’s sake, do with me, in me, to me, by
me, for me, as Thou wilt, this year!”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
THE LOWER SCHOOL.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER IV.
TIMELY HELP.
“Having reaped and garnered, bring the plough,
And draw new furrows, ’neath the healthy morn,
And plant the great Hereafter in the Now.”
E. B. BROWNING.
But, however it might be borne, the disappointment was bitter, more
especially in the proof given of the absolute indifference of the public
to the whole question. Prejudice might have been overcome, opposition
might have been met, but against indifference so invincible no means
seemed available.
Mrs. Grey gave it up as hopeless. She frankly abandoned the old
position, and opened out new ground in making her next appeal directly
to the British commercial instinct. In starting the Girls’ Public Day
School Company there was offered in addition to thorough education, a
dividend of five per cent.
The success of Miss Buss had proved that schools like hers were wanted
by numbers sufficient to make them pay. There was not the slightest
difficulty in any case in raising the £2000 in shares needed to start
one of the Company’s schools in any locality desiring to have it.[7]
Footnote 7:
Miss Clough, in her interest in Miss Buss’ work, had proposed to the
National Education Union the formation of a company to supply
school-buildings in this and similar cases. But the council decided to
start its own schools, and nothing came of this proposition so far as
regarded the Camden School.
This new departure tended rather to hinder than to help on the endowment
of the Camden School, of which the very _raison d’être_ was a rate of
fees too low even to pay for buildings, a dividend being quite beside
the mark.
Money had come in, though slowly, for the furniture of the Upper School,
and this was now quite self-supporting, though very inadequately housed.
What would, in this school, have gone towards a dividend, went instead
to the salaries of the teachers, higher here than in any similar
institution.
But for the Lower School an endowment was absolutely necessary.
Hitherto, Miss Buss herself had provided all that had been needed beyond
the money subscribed. She had not the very faintest intention of
fulfilling Mrs. Grey’s desponding prognostications of the abandonment of
the scheme as a result of the public apathy. The precise manner in which
it was to be carried out still remained to be discovered, but she never
wavered in her intention that, somehow, it was to be done.
During the year 1872 the pressure on Miss Buss seemed to be a little
increased by this new departure. In June she writes of it—
“Several people have written to me about the £5 shares in the
Brompton School, and my ire was rising.
“Mrs. Grey’s handing over _all_ Mr. Morley’s £500 to purchase
shares in the new school shows pretty clearly—in addition to the
Goldsmid gift—what chance _we_ have of help in that quarter.
There can be no doubt that the new school movement is leaving us
_high and dry_.
“I do not feel aggrieved by the Union in the least. It only
makes me more determined to act. Miss Davies shuts herself into
one bit of work; Mrs. Grey into another; I into a third....
“Mr. Rogers’ suggestion about the Columbia Market (have you seen
it?) if acted upon, will prevent our getting any help from the
City. He says the market is useless—turn it into a splendid
school _for girls_! I hope the suggestion may be acted upon; if
he takes it up, he will soon get the money needed. _We_ shall
have no chance at all. The City Companies will vie with each
other in starting this magnificent scheme. City men like to
‘live in bricks and mortar’—not to say stone. To live in human
hearts is not durable enough.
“Between the two schemes, we shall be swamped entirely if we do
not take the bull by the horns and make a huge effort.”
There was no real antagonism between Miss Buss and the Girls’ Public Day
School Company. She was very glad of the work, and helped it in many
ways, as is shown in Mrs. Grey’s letters—
“18, Cadogan Place, June 18, 1873.
“MY DEAR MISS BUSS,
“... I am troubling you again in this matter as there is a
proposal before our Council to adopt your scale of fees in the
new school....
“Several people have told me that your meeting yesterday was a
splendid success. I congratulate you heartily, and sincerely
regret not having been able to attend.
“I wonder whether I shall live to see similar success won by the
Company’s schools? If we could but get a duplicate of you I
should feel very sure of the success, whether I live to see it
or not.
“Most truly yours,
“M. G. GREY.”
In September, 1874, the following letter was received by Miss Buss from
one of the foremost supporters of the St. John’s Wood and Hampstead High
School for Girls, a lady whose enthusiasm had first been roused by her
efforts to help Miss Buss’ work—
“MY DEAR MISS BUSS,
“I am hoping to work for the St. John’s Wood School,
though on the whole I have met with little sympathy. One of the
objections to the new school will amuse you vastly, namely, that
all the people to whom I applied said that they would not like
to subscribe to a school that might in any way interfere with
yours, and that the near (!) neighbourhood of St. John’s Wood to
Camden Town might have this disastrous result. Nothing that I
could say convinced my opponents.... If we cannot get the help
of the intelligent and influential persons here, what shall we
do?... I feel sure that you can do much to help us: your name
could be on our committee, though we should not expect you to
work.
“Yours truly,
“E. TOLMÉ.”
Miss Buss at once took shares in the company, giving her name to the
committee, on which I acted as her representative. Many of her own
friends were members, as well as educationalists like Dr. Abbott, Dr.
Angus, Professor Huxley, Professor Carey Foster, and Mr. Norman Lockyer.
The new school was built by Mr. Robins.
In the mean time her own work went on slowly enough. The main hope was
now in the Endowed Schools’ Commission, since the constitution of both
schools had been arranged in harmony with schemes drawn up by that body.
Whilst one-half of the governing body of the North London Collegiate and
Camden Schools for Girls had formed the memorial committee, occupied
with ways and means, the remaining members had devoted themselves to
working out the details of the constitution, both parties uniting for
the general board meetings, and there discussing all points in common.
In Dr. Storrar, who had all his life been closely connected with great
educational bodies, having helped in the development of the London
University and of the College of Preceptors, we had a practical
educationalist; as also in Mrs. Burbury, who, as the daughter of Dr.
Kennedy, had breathed education with her earliest breath; Miss Ewart,
too, was in like manner born to public spirit, as the granddaughter of
the William Ewart to whom William Ewart Gladstone owed his name, and as
the daughter of a distinguished member of the House of Commons, who, for
forty-six years, helped in every advanced public work, especially the
London University. Dr. Storrar and these ladies, in particular, spared
neither time nor pains in working out the scheme, and in enlisting
sympathy with its objects in all likely quarters.
But, in the beginning of 1872, the Endowed Schools Commission had not
finished its work, and help from this quarter was still remote. Some
extracts from Miss Buss’ letters at this time show how very slow was the
progress made in getting funds—
“January 10, 1872.
“Mr. Ellis _privately_ has sent a cheque for £20 to the Camden
School. Lord Calthorpe has done the same, but as yet there has
been no other response to our memorial letters.
“Mrs. Newmarch writes a kind note, to say she means to pay us a
visit when she can, and she sends a guinea from ‘Mrs. Brown.’ We
are getting on, though slowly.”
“Myra Lodge, Mar. 10, 1872.
“The Camden sites and leases have been pressing much on me.
Nothing has been done about the site. The lawyers are too
dreadful. The land tenure is so complicated that it seems
hopeless to understand it!
“I want to talk to you about _our_ trying to get up a City
meeting. The Lord Mayor is favourable to female education. I
wrote to Mrs. Dakin, asking for an introduction to the Lady
Mayoress, but Mrs. Dakin is abroad. I shall try next Saturday
through another channel.”
“Mar. 22.
“Miss Gurney’s paper seems to be stirring up much interest.
“The Edinburgh Schools will be open during my holidays. So I
propose to leave for Edinburgh on the morning of the 18th of
April. Miss Chessar, who is going there next week, will make
inquiries about apartments for _us_. You mean to go, I trust?
“I want to visit the Dollar Schools, as well as the Merchant
Company’s Schools, and on the road home I should like to stay a
day or so at Newcastle. I must be again in London on Monday, the
29th of April.
“Dr. Hodgson has prepared the way for my admission, and he says
I ‘shall find open doors.’”
“Mar. 25.
“We are to have a city meeting. At least, Mr. Elliott and I are
empowered to _try_ to get one up.
“I am very weary to-day, having been late last night. I have not
an hour to myself, except on Sunday before church, till Tuesday
evening, every moment being filled with appointments—I mean
after school hours.”
“Bournemouth, Mar. 30, 1872.
“All being well I will go with you—not without you, I trust—to
Mrs. Mawson’s, on 27th of April.
“The memorial to the Princess has _not_ gone in, nor that to the
Baroness Burdett Coutts. Nothing has been done about our City
meeting. I am so tied down by the annual exams, that I hardly
know where to turn or what to do, or rather, what _not_ to do.
“I am having, however, perfect peace here. It is a most lovely
place, and I should like _you_ to know my dear sweet friend Mrs.
Hodgson! She knows a good deal of you.”
“April 5.
“Mr. Harries thinks the City meeting would be a failure. The
Lord Mayor could not lend the Mansion House for anything not
Metropolitan or National.
“This school was 22 years old yesterday!”
“April 10.
“About Lord G. H. I do not care a rush. Only if we women had not
submitted to the humiliation of begging from all sorts of
people, on any or no grounds, where should we be?...
“I have sent a book, papers, and a note to-day to Miss B. _I_
think the note, though short, might move a heart of stone!
“If you can come on Friday evening, pray do. Mr. Payne is very
anxious to talk philology with you. I have asked all sorts of
people who have been offering me hospitality, and all the women
teachers in both schools. It is desirable that I should do
something for my fellow-labourers from time to time.
“The Lady Mayoress is going to the Camden School on Friday next,
at 2.30. Do you care to meet her?”
“April 20.
“Mrs. Tolmés success is delightful! I have thanked her for
enlisting the Baroness, but have omitted to say anything about
the _prizes_.
“I did ask about a scholarship, and I have invited the baroness
to pay us a visit. A notice of the £10 donation shall be sent to
all the papers.”
The “Edinburgh Schools” here mentioned had been recently opened by the
Merchants’ Company of that city. Using the money of various old
charities that had fallen into utter abuse, they had made five
thoroughly good schools on the latest and best principles, two for boys,
two for girls, and one mixed. The first school was arranged for 1200
girls, and had proved a great success.
The account of this work had naturally been of great interest to Miss
Buss, and, as she knew that there had been every advantage that could be
derived from the possession of ample means, she was anxious to see for
herself what had been done. She therefore devoted her Easter vacation to
the visit to Edinburgh, in which I accompanied her, dating from this
happy time that closer intimacy which it was my privilege to enjoy. Dr.
Hodgson’s introduction to Mr. Thomas Knox, the Master of the Merchants’
Company, made our way something of a triumphal progress, as I find in my
letters home the record of “intense attention from hosts of masters and
other people—to Miss Buss, of course, I moving round her like an
attendant satellite, and shining in reflected light.” I was still young
enough to be amused at Mr. Knox’s description of the “_two_ ladies from
the south, eminent educationalists,” doing my best to sustain the
character. I could at least appreciate my opportunities in hearing the
talk between Miss Buss and Mr. Knox. Even apart from their friendship
with Dr. Hodgson, they found a strong bond in their educational
sympathies. In my journal I find him described as—
“A tall, fine-looking man, with a grand head, and, I should
think, a great heart. It is he who chiefly has carried the great
reforms, sweeping away one abuse after another by the force of
his strong will and steady purpose. One is struck by his
patriotism. His feeling for Edinburgh breaks out constantly, and
one can see that his public duty lies as near his heart as any
private interest, while he takes as his family all human
creatures, especially all young things, from the scholars of the
Merchants’ Company’s Schools to the waifs and strays of his own
special hobby, the training-ship. It is exquisite to see how
this great, strong man speaks to the old women at the Home and
to the children, with tender consideration for each individually
as well as in general kindness.”
His wife and daughter were absent, so we missed seeing his home-life,
but he showed us all that was most worth seeing in his beloved city. To
Miss Buss it was real holiday, and nothing seemed too much for her in
that busy week which to me was something of severe mental strain, as
well as unwonted physical exercise. We must have marched up and down
miles of stone passages and stonier staircases; and I find more than
once the record that I stayed at home to rest, while Miss Buss took in a
few more schools. A “Home for Boys,” and another for “Aged Poor,” are
“merely incidental” in a day which includes an Art School, and a School
for the Blind, in addition to the ordinary schools. We saw all the
Company’s new institutions, and Fettes College, as well as Heriot’s
Hospital, and the older foundations.
The palatial structures and perfect appointments of all these schools
made Miss Buss, as she said, “go raging wild with envy,” but this did
not prevent her from carefully noting all there was to see. Nothing was
overlooked that was in any way suggestive. She found a good system of
girls’ cloak-rooms, afterwards adopted, with her own improvements, in
her own new buildings. She noted that Scotch scones were more wholesome
than English buns for the children’s lunch, and in the future secured a
Scotch baker to supply them for her own girls. She discussed time-tables
and all the intricacies of school management, while I listened and
marvelled, and felt more and more like an eminent educational fraud.
Among the few things actually novel to her was the teaching of
pianoforte playing in classes, eight girls being taught at eight pianos
at the same time by one master. Perfect time was thus secured, as the
discord otherwise would have been quite beyond endurance. Some
modification of this system was afterwards introduced by Miss Buss into
her Upper School.
One thing that roused her disapproval, amidst so much that she admired,
was the position of the women-teachers, who, if employed at all, held
only inferior and ill-paid posts. Whilst in Edinburgh, she lost no
chance of putting in a word for them, and after her return to London,
she wrote: “I am firing shells into the Edinburgh schools one by one—Mr.
Knox, Mr. Pryde, etc.—to make them use the Local Examinations. Professor
Masson has been here this morning, and he advises me to go on, as good
may come of it.”
Wherever Miss Buss went she acquired new ideas; but she also scattered
them broadcast. As I had an introduction to Miss Eliza Wigham, the
well-known leader in all philanthropic movements, we found ourselves in
the centre of work of all kinds, being well pleased to discover that
though Edinburgh might be ahead in education, London could still hold
its own as regarded the employment of women.
I find that we had an afternoon tea, to which leading workers and
teachers were invited, of which I record: “At our party we have had a
grand seed-sowing. Everywhere Miss Buss throws out hints and suggestions
likely to bear good fruit. There are many persons who will remember the
talk to-day.”
At Gateshead it was just the same. She secured several pupils for her
friend Mr. C. H. Lake; and, although the sisters of these boys became
pupils at Myra Lodge, she at that time set going the idea of the Girls’
High School, soon afterwards started, which took the younger members of
these families from herself.
Before leaving Scotland we paid a visit to Dollar, where Miss Buss saw
her ideal system at work, as she here found an old-established “mixed
school.” Her theories were, on the whole, confirmed; but she found some
drawbacks, which made her content to wait till all the perfect
conditions could be secured.
After Dollar, we had a few days of quiet, with delightful drives in the
scenery round the Bridge of Allan, where our friend Mr. Forster chanced
to be staying at the Ochill Park Hydropathic Establishment.
The whole trip was full of interest, and not the least part of it was
the delight of having that full mind pouring itself out on all possible
subjects, and in scenes where the historic and poetic associations add a
new charm to the beauty of nature.
But there was still more to come in an event which, important as it was
in itself, acquired still greater force when taken in connection with
the feelings excited in Miss Buss’ heart, by the sight of the richly
endowed Edinburgh schools.
We broke our journey southwards at Gateshead, where we visited Mrs.
Mawson at Ashfield, a house well known to many a worker as a place where
pleasant things are wont to happen, and therefore most suitable for this
most happy occurrence. The large family circle had gathered round Miss
Buss, to hear her recent experiences, and to ask about her own work,
entering into her hopes and plans for the future of the schools, when a
telegram was brought to her. She read it; and, after a silent pause,
rose and, crossing the room, put her arms round me in her own impulsive
way, as she said, with rare tears in her voice as in her eyes, “Miss
Ewart has given £1000 to the Camden School!”
How much this meant to the founder could be known only to those who had
learnt how near to her heart was this dream of so many years. If only
Miss Ewart herself could have seen, as we saw who were there, the joy
thus given by her generous act, she would have been content, even
without all that is still to come out of it to the girls of generations
unborn, who will remember her name with gratitude.
Miss Ewart completed her good work by a large loan, which made it
possible at once to think about buildings for the Camden School. Miss
Buss left me at Gateshead, and went back to her work with a renewed
energy and courage, which come out very noticeably in the letters
received during the next few weeks.
“Myra Lodge, April 30, 1872.
“A few lines before going to the great Suffrage meeting. Forty
new entries in the Camden Road. Thirty, so far, in Camden
Street.”
“May 1, 10.30 p.m.
“I was interrupted last night by the arrival of a mother—Mrs.
Crookes, wife of the Psychic Force Mr. Crookes. While she was
talking, the cab arrived—no, no; just after she had done
talking, the cab came with Mr. and Mrs. Sep, for me to go to the
Suffrage meeting. We got back at _one_. We met everybody—Mrs.
Tolmé among others. All day I was driving at express-train
speed. At two o’clock Dr. Storrar came in, and, as he had a
committee at University College at five, stayed till 4.30. I had
had no lunch, and a council of teachers had assembled at four.
“The meeting lasted till eight. Tired out, I walked home with
Miss Begbie, and found here Mr. and Mrs. J. waiting to arrange
poor Mrs. B.’s affairs with me.
“They have just gone. The pressure of new pupils is enormous,
and the reorganization of the school is also heavy. There is
just the same pressure in Camden Street, but I have taken
nothing up there, and cannot till to-morrow afternoon. Teachers,
furniture, etc., are all to be found.
“Did I tell you on Sunday night that I asked Dr. Storrar if the
lender of the £3000 was Miss Ewart? He does not answer, so we
can draw our own conclusions.
“I am to ask her to fix the time for a special meeting, and must
do so to-morrow, if I can find a few minutes.”
“Myra Lodge, May 3.
“I am sure you will believe in the impossibility of my writing
much. The whole day—four o’clock now—I have been walking about,
organizing classes.
“How to dovetail all the subjects of instruction and the pupils
is a difficulty not to be described. Things are getting into
order; but I have found no housekeeper, and want a new teacher.
“The Edinburgh papers are untouched, as I have not had a moment
to arrange them. But yours will serve for the School-Mistresses’
meeting.
“Don’t be vexed, but the City meeting is quite off, so I judge
from Mr. Elliott’s remarks; also there seems a feeling that all
mention of _us_ to the Princess Louise has been omitted. She
called a meeting of Lord Lyttelton, Mrs. Cowper Temple, and
others, to give her advice, and it seems Dr. Storrar wrote later
to Lord Lyttelton to express his vexation that Lord L. had not
pointed us out as leaders in the question of girls’ schools. We
are to get at Princess Louise, but _how_ is not settled. Dr. S.
does not think we can hold a City meeting.
“Mrs. Bonham-Carter sends _me_ £25. You shall see the note.
“My love to you and all the Ashfield circle. My little stay
there was so pleasant, I wish I were with you now. Did I ever
say how charming my Edinburgh trip was? My companion was such a
dear, sweet girl.
“Did you find your new dress much tumbled, I wonder?
“Love to Mrs. Mawson and her girls.
“Did you not know that my Edinburgh trip was _quite delightful_
to me?”
“Myra Lodge, May 13, 1872.
“I had no opportunity of expressing my pleasure at seeing you
again, so do it on paper.
“Dr. Storrar knew what Miss Ewart meant to do, and he knew what
I only dimly suspected—namely, that she offered to lend the
£3000 also.
“She paid the school a visit on Thursday with Madame Bodichon,
and Dr. Storrar says she has grown into a regard for our work.
She was perfectly charming to me to-day, and especially about
Mrs. Bonham-Carter’s note.
“I whispered that I could make ducks and drakes of the £25: buy
a dress if I liked, as the money was given to me for my comfort!
She took me by the hand, and said she wished I would spend it
exactly as I liked; it really was at my disposal.
“If Mr. Robins is not our architect, I am sure he will exonerate
you and me. I hope he will. Perhaps things will go as we wish.
“Dr. S. distinctly told me he thought Miss Ewart had no
particular person in her mind’s eye.
“I am going to Mrs. Tait in the morning, and out to dinner in
the afternoon. I mention the latter merely to let you know that
I shall be hurried to-morrow.”
“202, Camden Road, May 28.
“I fear I cannot manage to get to you to-morrow evening. There
is a Dorcas meeting here, followed by a lecture, which will keep
me very late; and I have been under an engagement for more than
a fortnight to go to Mrs. Arthur Arnold’s At Home (A. Arnold is
editor or proprietor of the _Echo_) at Stanley Gardens, nine
o’clock.”
An introduction to the Rev. Stopford Brooke gave further pleasant
encouragement as Mr. and Mrs. Stopford Brooke visited the schools, and
were so much interested that they even spoke of sending their own
daughters. The distance made this plan impracticable, but Mr. Brooke’s
interest was shown in other ways. Miss Buss writes—
“Mr. Stopford Brooke sent yesterday a cheque for £13 8_s._
11_d._, with a note saying his people were away, but he would
try again next year. Decidedly the publication of his sermon
would be helpful to the cause of education, but I hope the right
place would be given to Miss Davies. Please also take care of
her note, which I enclose. Mr. Latham seemed to think we might
perhaps get £300 a year for endowment.
“The ‘leaving scholarships’ are like the £100 a year, for three
years, given by the Merchants’ Company in Edinburgh. It would be
delightful to send some girls to Girton College (papers of which
I send you some copies) or to Germany, for music, etc.
“If it is fine on Tuesday afternoon, what do you say to meeting
me _here_ at six o’clock sharp, and of our going together to the
Botanic Gardens?
“We should at least be quiet; and a walk would be pleasant, or a
drive to the entrance, and a walk inside? I want to see you.”
“June, 1872.
“Oh, how very heavy the work has been this week! I was almost
overdone this morning. Last Saturday, I had to hunt about for
sites, etc. There is scarcely anything to be found that will do
for the Camden School, and I have been nearly tearing my hair,
because the ground opposite the Upper School may be sold for a
chapel. It is very trying to see that splendid site, actually
the only available spot in the district—nearly half an
acre—commanding Hampstead, Kentish Town, Highgate, and Holloway,
and yet be unable to find any one willing even to lend on the
security of the land and building. From eighty to ninety years
is the length of the lease. I have been doing my best to get
people to take up the Upper School—MY very own work—as Miss
Ewart has done the Lower, but so far have been unsuccessful.
Could we get at Mr. George Moore anyhow? Mr. Reeve, of Portland
Chapel, is his guide, philosopher, and friend. Could we enlist
Mr. Reeve?
“It is very wicked, I know; but, all the same, I can’t help it.
I feel quite sick with despair, with that land opposite, and
such worry from overcrowding inside our school-house. We must
refuse pupils. And we might have such a splendid school for
three hundred girls! If only we could get the sinews of war!
“Why should not Agnes write to Mr. Froude herself? Mrs. Arnold’s
_soirée_ enabled me to speak to several people—notably to Mrs.
Pennington, who is doing her best to persuade her husband to
give us a thousand pounds.
“I did not tell you that on Thursday morning I called on Mr.
Jowett at Cowper Street. He was occupied in taking over the
schools an American and the Warden of the Fishmongers. My card
was taken to his room, where was standing a tall, gentlemanly
clergyman, whom I at once recognized as MR. ROGERS.
“At first the mere mention of my name did not strike him, but
presently he took up the card, peered curiously at it, and then
turned round to me. We had some talk. I told him about the land.
He said, ‘Nothing venture, nothing get. You must take the land.
Secure it by putting your £1500 down; then go boldly to the
public with a _clear, definite scheme_. People will not listen
to vague plans.’ He said, ‘Don’t amateur your plans. Get a
surveyor’ (he mentioned one), ‘pay him to get up the
information, etc.’
“I am quite sure we have been amateuring too long. We ought to
carry in Mr. Robins. I have sent his testimonials to Dr.
Storrar, and Mr. Robins’ application will come on Monday. In
three days Mr. Robins can put us into a position to say we want
so much.
“We must _do_ and _do_ and _do_.
“But Mr. Rogers says, ‘We shall get no help for the Upper
School.’ I could have said, ‘You are a University man. How did
you get your education? From old endowments? or from your
father’s pockets ENTIRELY?’ But that would have been rude; so I
was silent.
“I am resolved _not_ to let the Lower School be put down on the
new land FIRST. Both must be done together, or the Upper
_first_. You see why it would be dangerous to risk the Upper
School. If we can only get help for the _Lower_—so be it. We
will then _borrow_ for the Higher, and do the two together.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER V.
TRIUMPH.
“There is now no such thing as a ‘Woman’s Education Question’
apart from that of education generally; and the real question
which has still to be fought for many a long year, I fear, is
one as old as education itself: how is the child of either sex
to be trained to the measure of the stature of the perfect human
being?”—_Letter from Mrs. Grey to Miss Buss, Dec., 1881._
In August, 1872, things suddenly assumed a fresh aspect. It was not till
July, 1879—still seven years of waiting and working—that the goal was
finally attained in the opening of the new schools. But, from August 2,
the date of a letter from Mr. Roby, the Secretary of the Endowed Schools
Commission, to Miss Buss, this goal came within sight. This letter Miss
Buss enclosed to me, with a few words of comment, which touched me not a
little.
“I send you a copy of a note which I got yesterday. Please send
it on, with my love, to Mrs. Offord. It is the realization,
probably, of our hopes. Yet I take it as quietly as I did Miss
Ewart’s donation of a thousand pounds—not ungratefully, I trust.
I have offered a meeting on Tuesday morning, but expect that
will be too late. So, in October, things must be settled.
“I leave this place on Monday, so as to get through heaps of
work in town, before starting for the Continent. My brother Sep
will be in Brussels by the time we get there. Probably it will
be better to say _very little_ about Mr. Roby’s note. ‘There’s
many a slip,’ etc.”
The letter, of so much interest to us all, ran as follows—
“92, Kensington Gardens Square, W., Aug. 2, 1892.
“DEAR MISS BUSS,
“I am very glad to be able to announce to you that the
Commissioners have proposed to the Brewers’ Company, who are the
Governors of Aldenham School, to subsidize the Camden Schools,
and that the Governors have agreed to this.[8] As to details,
nothing is settled, but I hope to get a handsome sum towards
building, so as to complete, with what you have collected, all
that is necessary, and also some annual endowments.
“The next step is for our Assistant-Commissioner to have a
conference with you and your Board, so as to ascertain what is
the amount needed, and what is the best form the assistance
should take.
“If your Board could meet Latham anywhere (either at the Camden
Schools, or at 2, Victoria Street) on an early day next week, it
would be well.
“If not, the matter must wait till October, as we are all
dispersing for the Vacation.
“Will you please to write to Latham at once?
“Yours very truly,
“(Signed) H. J. ROBY.”
Footnote 8:
In the reign of James II., “Richard Platt, a wealthy brewer, left a
piece of land in trust to the Brewers’ Company to maintain a school in
his native village, Aldenham.” On this piece of land now stands St.
Pancras Station. The value of the property became too great for only
the one school to be maintained, and the sum of £20,000 was given in
order to build our two schools, one in the Camden Road, and the other
in the Prince of Wales Road; in addition, a similar sum was given as
an Endowment, thus using the money in the Parish of St. Pancras.
On the following day I had another note from Miss Buss, and for some
time to come the whole story of the hopes and fears, the anticipation
and delay, may be given in her own words from these letters—
“Aug. 8, 1872.
“I had a note yesterday from Mr. Latham, agreeing to an
appointment with our Board, next Tuesday morning, at 2, Victoria
Street, ten o’clock.
“This is your notice; so please don’t say you were not invited!
“In consequence of the delay in getting Mr. Roby’s note to me, I
asked for an appointment next week, when Mr. Roby meant _this_
week. But, as it turns out, my mistake is of no consequence, as
Mr. Latham, the Assistant-Commissioner, is still in town.”
“Aug. 10, 1872.
“I did not write to you yesterday, because I expected that very,
very charming note, which came this morning. Dr. Storrar wrote
to me to say—however, I enclose his note—that the meeting had
better take place at 202, Camden Road. So I wrote at once to
every one _but you_ (and Miss Ewart and Mrs. Sidgwick, who are
abroad), to say that our meeting was to be held in Camden Road,
and not in Victoria Street. Twelve notes in all! Still, I think
Dr. Storrar is right, and as only the trouble fell on me, it was
better to ask every one to change. I hope Mr. Latham will not
mind.”
“Aug. 11, 1872.
“Any money given to us by the Endowed Schools Commission will be
for _both_ schools. My only hope for the Upper School has been
centred in the Endowed Commission. Our plan of placing the
schools side by side will make the ground more easy to get.... I
have long expected a grant from the Commission, but these things
are so long about that there was a doubt on my mind whether the
grant would be made for years to come.
“Mr. Latham says the part of the Platt income available for St.
Pancras amounts to about a thousand a year. He does not like the
notion of the two schools being together. So it is proposed that
we ask for about £16,000 for the two buildings and ground for
the Lower School, on the Platt estate, which belongs to the
Brewers.”
The good news had come just as Miss Buss was starting for her summer
holiday, this year spent in Germany and Switzerland. On her return she
writes—
“Myra Lodge, Sept. 14. 11.30 p.m.
“Out of sight has not been out of mind, I assure you.
“I got back yesterday at about one o’clock a.m. and have ever
since been in a whirlpool of work and consequent worry.
“There are more than _fifty_ new entries for the North London
School, 54 in fact, and more are coming on Monday.
“Over sixty are entered in the Camden School. The new buildings
look very well—as a temporary thing—but must be furnished
immediately in order to receive the new pupils; teachers must be
found—housekeeper, servants, etc. I have been dashing through
all sorts of work to-day, to get things in train.
“Anyway, our success justifies our taking the new place, and
puts us into the way of paying for it.
“My holidays were perfectly delightful; but I must tell you
about them at some other time.
“My dear Annie, I am not sure at all about success not being too
elating! I will try to guard against myself, but feel doubtful.
Success of a certain kind is necessary to make one learn one’s
self; but too much may be puffing up.
“However, it has gone midnight, so I will say no more than that
I am
“Your loving
“ARNIE;
“that I am glad you are all well; that I shall not get any time
to myself to-morrow, as I am to go to my father after service
for the rest of the day, and that Monday will be a dreadfully
hardworking day.
“Will you take care of the _Times’_ account of the Prize Day?
The mighty Thunderer sent his own Reporter!”
“Myra Lodge, Dec. 10, 1872.
“There has been a long—2½ hours—conversation with Mr. Roby and
Mr. Latham. It is proposed to send us a draft of the scheme
before it is published, and this draft is (if possible) to be
_here_ by Monday week, the 23rd.
“Next Monday we shall send out notices for a _special_ meeting
to consider the draft.
“If the Brewers will give the sum £40,000, it is calculated that
the buildings will cost from £20 to £25 per head, and about 400
girls in each school; but there will be _sites_, law, and
scholarships to be provided.
“Mr. Roby thought the sum mentioned would not be too much for
the two schools. This school is to be a _First Grade_, fixed pay
of mistress £100 per annum, and a maximum cap. fee of £3. So my
income might amount to £1300 per annum! The Camden mistress
might get about £450 as a minimum, or £700 as a maximum. £200
endowment for rates, repairs, and £200 in each school for
scholarships.”
“Jan. 1, 1873.
“My head aches at the thought of the worry of settling the
claims to entry of the candidates waiting for admission. Your
friends are somewhere about fiftieth.
“Our scheme is not yet published. I am anxious to see it in the
_Times_, so that the three months may soon pass.”
Then came six months of waiting before Miss Buss writes, on July 31,
1873—
“You will be glad to know that the Endowed Schools Amendment Act
has passed the Commons. The Lords may turn it out. Perhaps they
will. Won’t that be dreadful? I don’t know when the reading
takes place.”
But on August 9, she writes from Bruges to the Rev. S. Buss—
“Of course you know that OUR Act—the Endowed Schools
Commission—is really an Act now. It is mentioned in the Queen’s
Speech.
“This morning, a copy of the scheme AS PUBLISHED has been sent
to me. So the Commissioners have lost no time. In three
months—that is, on the 7th or 8th Nov.—the scheme will be
prepared for presentation to the Privy Council and then to
Parliament. So that, humanly speaking, the whole scheme will be
accomplished in a year’s time.
“It is curious how little elated one is, when fruition is so
near!”
The next letter to me comes in the same strain, dated August 26—
“The Scheme is now advertised, and must wait three months, in
order that opposition may be made. Then it goes to the Privy
Council, and next year to Parliament. Altogether we may expect
the twenty thousand (_cash_ value, _i.e._ about eighteen
thousand pounds) some time next year.
“I am most deeply grateful, but I am not elated. One’s
elasticity gets sadly diminished as one grows older.”
After this a whole year elapses, filled with steady work in the schools,
and brightened with gleams of help, such as are recorded on June 4,
1874—
“Within the last half-hour a note has come to me from Mr. Owen
Roberts, clerk to the Clothworkers’ Company, to say they give us
£105 per annum, during pleasure, for scholarships: 50 guineas to
Girton, and two of 25 guineas for Merton. It is very pleasing.”
The reason for this prolonged delay was shown at the next date, November
18, 1874—
“Mr. Lee called at the office of Committee of Council a few days
ago, to ascertain how our scheme was progressing.
“He found that the Vicar of Aldenham had been opposing it, and
that practically not anything has been done. It will be again
advertised, and then wait two months, and, if opposed again,
must go before Parliament. So there is no chance of its passing
for an indefinite period. Shall I say, if ever?
“And the question now arises what are we to do about other
matters? Are we to go on as we have been doing? What are we to
do? Submit, I suppose, to the inevitable. But is it inevitable?
“Altogether, I feel we are in an _impasse_.”
A month later comes a little more hope—
“Oct. 8, 1874.
“I heard to-day (from a governor of that St. Martin’s School
which carries off Miss Derrick) that he had met a Brewer who
talked quite warmly of our school, and also of the plan to take
up the North London Collegiate School for boys, but that the
head wanted good money consideration for it. I am very glad to
hear this in every way. This last certainly entitles _me_ to
‘good consideration,’ and not to lectures from—various persons!”
The next step comes in a note from Mrs. Grey—
“18, Cadogan Place, Jan. 18, 1875.
“MY DEAR MISS BUSS,
“I enclose a note I received on Saturday morning from Mr.
Richmond, which please return. I congratulate you with all my
heart on this crowning of your labours.
“Mr. Holloway has given us no further sign.
“Most sincerely yours,
“M. G. GREY.”
This news of course came in due form to the governing body, but it seems
to have been known to various friends earlier, giving them the
opportunity of expressing their sympathy, as, in sending me Mrs. Grey’s
note, Miss Buss remarks—
“Mrs. Grey’s note enclosed one from Mr. Richmond, secretary of
Endowed Commission, saying that the Lord President of the
Council—I suppose that means Education Department—‘had approved
of the scheme for giving Miss Buss’ Schools the Platt
Endowment’—or words to this effect. Curiously enough, I am not
in the least elated, but have a sort of choking sensation when I
stop to think.
“Mr. Fitch wrote to me on Saturday somewhat to same effect, and
Miss Davies, as I told you, gave me a message from him, on the
14th, Sep’s birthday, and Dr. and Mrs. Hodgson’s wedding-day.
“Are you willing to beg a little for the foundation of a Chair
of Education? The Scotch have JUST founded two, and the
Government—Conservative too!—have given £10,000 to complete
them. We might get some help from Government if we got £5000
before asking it.”
“Endowed Schools Department,
“2, Victoria Street, S.W.,
“April 12, 1875.
“MY DEAR MISS BUSS,
“Aldenham and the North London Schemes were both approved
by the Lord President on Jan. 15. The former was, on petition
laid upon the table of the two Houses of Parliament; but no
petition was presented praying that the latter should be so
submitted to Parliament. However, the time provided by the Act
has expired, and both schemes will almost certainly be approved
by Her Majesty at the next Council.
“So it is the opinion both at the Council Office and here, that
the Schemes are as safe as anything can be which has not
actually received formal and final sanction.
“With the kindest good wishes,
“I am ever, my dear Miss Buss,
“Very truly yours,
“J. G. FITCH.”
On May 14, 1875, I received this welcome note—
“MY DEAR ANNIE,
“The Queen signed our scheme at yesterday’s Privy Council.
The news has just come from Mr. Fitch.
“Ever your loving
“ARNIE.”
This looked like the end of all anxieties. But there were still four
years to elapse before that point was reached. Action was taken at once
in the appointment of Mr. E. C. Robins as architect, and Miss Buss’
spare time went in plans and in consultation with him at special
committees without end. It had to be discussed over and over whether the
two schools should be together or separate; the choice of sites occupied
time and thought, and, interesting and exciting as it all might be, it
was all so much added to the pressure of the work, where success meant
increasing numbers and constant reorganization in both schools.
Here is a specimen of the extra worries that from time to time came to
swell the account—
“June 8, 1876.
“A new complication has sprung up. The Charity Commissioners
write to ask how much money we intend to put by yearly, to
accumulate at compound interest, to buy up the lease when it
expires. We must call a meeting. It seems to me like a
rent-charge, and if we are to do this, I want to know _how_ we
are benefited?
“We had better have been left alone. Suppose the school numbers
went down, where would the governors be?
“In my lifetime, too, this would mean paralysis of every thing
we need, in order to put by money.
“It is _very_ trying.”
This difficulty was overcome, but still the plan remained for both
schools to be erected on one site—
“June 10, 1876.
“Mr. Latham has written a long (private) letter to me in which
he objects (as I do in my heart) to both schools being put on
the same site, and suggests cutting down our plans and
_borrowing_.”
Again sweets mingled with the bitter, when Miss Buss could report on
December 18, 1876—
“DEAREST ANNIE,
“Will you return Mr. Owen Roberts’ letter? Is it not a
delightful Christmas box? A whole hall!”
This letter announced the intention of the Clothworkers’ Company to add
the Great Hall to the new buildings contemplated by the Brewers’
Company.
But still came further difficulties—
“Jan. 25, 1877.
“What do you think of my feelings at reading the following
passage in the last letter from the Charity Commission? ‘We
sanction the plans for the Camden School, on the distinct
understanding that the buildings of the Upper School remain, for
the present, in abeyance.’
“Poor Mr. Robins! He wants to go on with the Camden, but that
seems to me to doom the Upper School. Is it not a constant
worry? We must face the only possible outlet: Mr. Latham’s
suggestion of ‘raising the fees without delay.’”
The next letter is dated February 8, 1877, and shows Miss Buss in one of
her (fortunately rare) depressed moods; but it also shows her usual
self-sacrifice—
“We have to-day received a note, saying that, unless we have new
facts to lay before them, the Charity Commissioners _adhere to
their decision_, though they will hear what we have to say on
Thursday. This means that the Upper School must be left as it
is, and the Camden be begun.
“There seems no outlook. On the whole, matters look very gloomy.
I have been struggling so much against a sort of sick despair
that I am literally sore all over. The revulsion from hope to a
state of hopelessness has produced on me the strange bodily
soreness alluded to.
“There seems only one chance, and that is, to give an annual sum
of £800 or £1000 a year towards the debt out of my income from
the school, and to make my friends insist on the plans being
carried out. If, in addition, we raise the fees one guinea per
annum, _i.e._ 7_s._ per term, we shall realize another £500, and
the saving of rent, when buildings are completed, will add
another £300. All this could be applied to paying the debt, so
that the debt could soon be paid off, supposing the school to go
on successfully.
“The discipline of life is very hard, and one’s faith is not as
strong as it ought to be. I do try to cast all my care on Him,
who careth even for me; but it is very, very hard to cling
closely.
“I have to go to Cheltenham to-morrow. I shall not be home until
_late_ on Saturday night.
“No doubt the sun is still shining behind the clouds! Perhaps
even these may clear off in some unexpected way.”
“Feb. 13, 1877.
“Yesterday’s meeting went smoothly. Miss Ewart was very kind.
She told me in my room that she was quite sorry for me and that
she sympathized strongly.
“Mr. Buxton and Mr. Worsley, as representatives of the donors of
the money, mean to protest against abandoning the Upper School,
or delaying its buildings. Mr. Lee and Mr. Thorold also will
make a stand; the former is coming up on purpose. I will send
you a line to say what hope there is.
“We have another meeting on Monday, of which you have probably
had notice.
“The governors granted all the things I asked for, in the way of
salaries, house expenses, etc. Mr. Robins was not kept waiting,
and got away when he had explained to Miss E. the ventilation
matter.
“At the last meeting, he was kept two hours, and then not
summoned. It made me quite fidgety and uncomfortable. I think
his patience is _almost_ exhausted. What a good friend he is!
“I wrote a note to the chairman for yesterday’s meeting,
offering—(1) on condition of not letting the Upper School be
‘put in abeyance,’ (2) of raising the fees, and (3) of adding
the sum so obtained to the rent saved by the buildings (about
£800 per annum)—to pay another sum of £800 per annum towards the
building fund, during my working life, or so long as necessary.
This note was read in my absence.
“I must, as Alfred says, be allowed ‘to endow my own child.’ I
also wrote to Mr. Lee, making the same offer. I tell you, as you
would have heard it had you been able to be present.
“My very dear Annie, if only some of my cares would save you
from yours, how thankful I should be.
“May God bless and strengthen you.
“Ever yours lovingly,
“ARNIE.”
“Feb. 18, 1877.
“The answer from the Charity Commissioners is expected next
week. I should think it will be favourable.
“All this discipline is strengthening, and helps one to
strengthen others, if one will but learn the lesson it is meant
to teach. I have not been rebellious this time, I think, but
have tried to use means and be content with the issue.”
“April 14.
“Mr. Worsley writes to say that the Brewers’ Company will take
up the loan of £8000, and therefore there need be no delay in
beginning the Camden School.
“Also that there will be no necessity for me to insure my life
for the debt.
“So ends our great difficulty!”
In July, 1878, there is a note referring to the work involved in laying
the memorial stones of the new building, and an indication of delay,
since Miss Buss says—
“The Clothworkers gave us a cheque for £2500, which will carry
us on till October, by which time we hope either to have the
freehold or the Alice Owen money. If not, I am to advance what I
can, and that wonderful Mr. Robins will also advance, if
necessary. So far as I can understand, the Charity Commissioners
have suggested to the Brewers that the latter should lend us
money, at a moderate rate of interest, from their other
educational trust, the Alice Owen, in Islington. The committee
met to discuss and report on the security, etc. I hear that the
best security will be a life insurance taken up by me, but
nothing was settled.”
The grand _finale_ came at last when the buildings were completed, as
more extracts will show—
“March 14, 1879.
“Mr. E. N. Buxton was splendid to-day at the governors’ meeting,
and he urged that we should go on, and never mind about the
Charity Commission difficulties. We have asked the Princess of
Wales!”
“April 3, 1879.
“The Princess of Wales accepts our invitation to open our new
buildings and give the prizes. I do hope nothing will prevent
her keeping her promise. _As yet_ I do not want the fact known
in the school. I shall be torn to pieces, and have to fight over
every examination paper and mark, because every girl, and her
parents, will be so resolved to get a prize from the hands of
our fair, young, and beloved Princess!
“I want, in the future, _Foundation Day_ to be always a day of
importance in the year. Twenty-nine years! Almost a lifetime.”
“June 28, 1879.
“How are you all? I often think of you, but the pressure of work
now is hardly to be imagined! Independently of the Royal visit,
there are the festivities of the girls themselves, in connection
with the New Hall. Some French proverbs to be acted, and some
extracts from _Les Femmes Savantes_, also the final scene in the
_Merchant of Venice_.”
For a very pleasant little sketch of the school buildings I am indebted
to Miss Edith Aitkin—
“The school buildings, which are the fruit of so much thought
and endeavour, stand at the corner of Sandall Road, a few yards
back from the main Camden Road. They are of dark red brick, and
group themselves round a part of the original structure which is
three stories high, and which culminates in a conical-roofed
tower, from which each morning a bell rings out to summon the
neighbourhood and all and sundry happily, not ‘unwillingly, to
school.’ It is to be regretted that small and rather
mean-looking houses crowd round too closely to allow the
ordinary passer-by to form any adequate idea either of the size
of the place or of its real dignity of proportion. The building
falls naturally into two parts; first, there is the original
structure, modified and extended, facing Sandall Road; and
secondly, round the corner is the Clothworkers’ Hall, and the
main body of class-rooms behind it. This hall, with its long,
stained-glass windows, their tops breaking the line of the roof,
and its handsome gateway of honour, is the most interesting
feature of the building as seen from outside.
“The usual entrance is at the corner, in the very middle of the
school, and the impression received is at once delightful and
characteristic. Frances Mary Buss, the daughter of a painter,
all her life delighted in light and colour. She was no ascetic,
but aimed always at full use of all good gifts. As one enters to
the left is the head-mistress’ sitting-room—the ‘Blue Room,’
reminding one that blue was her favourite personal colour, the
colour she wore as a girl, the colour of the satin dress in the
early Victorian portrait painted of her by her father. The tiles
of the fireplace, painted by the elder girls, are green and
blue, and, dare one say, Morris-y before their time. In front we
see a stained-glass window, to the memory of pious founders,
Dame Alice Owen, and Alderman Richard Platt. To the right is a
handsome brass recording the main facts of the foundation of the
school. On each side of this are doorways leading to the office,
where visitors are received in the first instance, and to the
library wing. Passing forwards, we mount a few steps and turn to
the left into the hall. This was always Miss Buss’ pride, and
deserves the exclamation, ‘Oh, how pretty!’ which nearly every
one makes on entering it for the first time. Other schools have
halls, some large and fine in their way, but I do not think
there is any other so bright and cheerful, so warm with
harmonious colour, so _pretty_. At one end is the main platform,
with the organ—the gift of old pupils—recessed in the wall
behind it. The long windows, with window-seats and high ledges
on which are plants, pour down coloured light along one side.
Some are already filled with stained glass, and the middle one,
which has always been called Founders’ Window, because it was
partly filled by the arms of those companies and individuals who
have endowed the school, is to be completed as the special
memorial of her who was, after all, our main founder. Along the
opposite side and across the end runs a gallery of pitchpine.
The walls have a dado of pitchpine, and are lined with smooth
terra-cotta brick, let into which at one end, under the gallery,
are two medallions, one a portrait of the Princess of Wales, to
mark the day of her visit, and all that it signified, ‘with a
white stone,’ as Miss Buss said. Five class-rooms open into the
hall along one side under the gallery, five more on to the
gallery, and others on to a corridor above. To secure quiet in
the hall for examinations, etc., curtains can be drawn shutting
off the part under the gallery as a passage-way to the
class-rooms. These are bluish-green, and, with the flowers of
the platform and window-ledges, give a pretty effect of colour.
To the left of the platform hangs Miss Buss’ portrait, so that
she seems to be amongst us still in a strange quiet fashion.
“To describe one class-room is, to the outsider, to describe
them all. A teacher’s platform facing thirty desks, with a large
slate or blackboard behind—Tobins’ pipes, and ventilators over
the doors—this is the now familiar appearance of a schoolroom.
More distinctive features are the window-gardens, the pitchpine
dado, and eminently practical lining of smooth brick, on which
numerous photographs display themselves. Miss Buss’ Roman visits
explain the fact that very many are views of Rome and of
classical sculpture. To those interested in the details of the
school class-rooms take on distinctive features. In one is the
challenge cup held for the term as the result of a singing
competition amongst a number of classes. In another are copies
of Raphael’s Cartoons. In another a very special and original
fireplace decoration. In some we notice spinal chairs, or
modified desks, recommended for special girls by the lady doctor
attached to the school.
“A complete survey is a long business, and even a cursory
inspection involves some walking, for we cannot omit to mount to
the end of the top corridor to see the large drawing-school,
with its array of casts, glass, perspective planes, etc. This is
lighted from above, and contains over the fireplace a large
painting by Mr. R. W. Buss, of an Elizabethan Christmas,
throwing out a fine glow of colour. Several small isolated rooms
on this floor also are used as music-rooms.
“On the gallery floor it is absolutely necessary to inspect the
lecture-room and laboratory. The former can seat about a hundred
and fifty girls, and is provided with a proper lecture-table for
experiments, and also with a lantern and screen. The laboratory
is fitted with working benches for twenty-four girls at a time.
In the little room between is a really good balance for the use
of the more advanced students.
“A plunge into the basement must follow, for the care with which
provision has been made for cloak-rooms, lavatories, kitchen,
dining-room, and drying-room for wet clothes in winter, is very
striking. Also a long passage, floored with wooden bricks, leads
to the gymnasium, a splendid room a hundred feet long, and about
forty feet high. This offers a certain amount of compensation
for a very moderate playground behind the school. The
playground, such as it is, is immensely prized for rounders,
skipping, etc., while competition is very keen for the three
fives courts which open on it at one side. The gymnasium is in
constant use all the morning, for every class goes down there
for a gymnastic lesson, on Miss Chreimann’s system, twice a
week, besides a daily short drill directed by the form
mistresses. A special class is held on one afternoon for
additional gymnastic exercises, and another for medical drill,
when girls with a tendency to some special defect are put
through special exercises recommended by the doctor mentioned
above, who examines all the girls of the school at certain
intervals.
“Visitors may very well be glad to rest before leaving. The main
library will probably contain sixth-form girls studying under a
strict silence rule. Not to set a bad example, we will pass
through to the museum to do any talking. The teachers’ library
is beyond again, a pretty room with several sofas, and a
window-seat under the stained-glass window which decorates this
wing.
“There are many details one would like to comment upon, such as
the fountains on each floor supplied with filtered water, the
special taps to be used in case of fire, with directions as to
the best method of procedure hung up beside them, the plans
displayed for reference of the whole system of gas- and
water-pipes. All these are very eloquent of her whose
dream—realized as all dreams are not—has borne the translation
into a reality which can never be truly prosaic, and stands here
in solid brick, the North London Collegiate School for Girls,
Sandall Road, Camden Road, N.W.”
On July 18, 1879, the whole of St. Pancras was astir with the unwonted
excitement of a Royal visit, and the crowds that for miles lined the
streets showed their loyalty by hearty acclamations.
* * * * *
The Prince and Princess, accompanied by the Countess of Macclesfield and
Baron Colville of Culross, with Mr. Holzmann and Lieut. Clarke, were met
at the door of the new building by Miss Buss and the Bishop of
Rochester—then chairman of the Board—passing through a double line of
governors on their way to the library, where Miss Aitkin, the winner of
a Girton Scholarship, presented a bouquet of Malmaison roses. The whole
party then proceeded to the tent erected in the playground, where the
Camden Street pupils waited to receive their prizes from the gracious
lady whose coming had been so ardently desired.
[Illustration:
THE GREAT HALL, NORTH LONDON COLLEGIATE SCHOOL FOR GIRLS.
]
Adjournment to the great hall followed, when the girls of the Upper
School had their turn, a hundred and fifty being made happy possessors
of prizes from the same kind hand. Songs and speeches came next, and the
Prince certainly looked as if his words were no empty compliment, as he
said that none of their many functions had given greater pleasure either
to the Princess or himself than their visit to these schools.
In the library, where tea was served, the Prince and Princess talked for
some time with Miss Buss about her work. In addition to the whole body
of governors, there were present Canon Spence, Vicar of St. Pancras, the
Rev. William Rogers, Founder of the Cowper Street School, the Rev.
Llewellyn Davies (Miss Davies being unable to be present), Sir T. Fowell
Buxton, Mr. Edward North Buxton, the Masters of the Brewers’ and of the
Clothworkers’ Company, Mr. Robins, the architect to the schools, and
other friends.
On the same evening, the occasion was celebrated by a dinner given by
Canon Spence and the Churchwardens of St. Pancras, when the health of
the founder of the schools came after that of the Royal visitors. Mr.
Robins, in giving this toast, remarked that “Miss Buss had been of great
help to him in the building of the schools, for she was a thoroughly
practical woman, and knew more about plans than many men.”
Taking it altogether, there was every ground for the satisfaction which,
as the Rev. A. J. Buss said, in response, his sister must feel in a day—
“to which she had long looked forward, and to which she would
look back with gratification, of which no small part would be
due to the recognition of her services by the representatives of
the parish in which she had spent her working life.”
From among the innumerable letters of congratulation pouring in from all
sides a few may be given which were specially treasured by the Founder,
who from this day felt herself set free for the internal work of the
schools, all anxiety being ended as to their external conditions.
Foremost among these is one from Mr. Spencer Charrington, who, as Master
of the Brewers’ Company, thanks Miss Buss for his reception, expressing
his full satisfaction in the completion of the work in which the Company
had taken so deep an interest.
Not less gratifying was a testimony from Mr. Fitch to the scholastic
value of Miss Buss’ own special part of the work—
“5, Lancaster Terrace, July 23, 1879.
“MY DEAR MISS BUSS,
“Let me congratulate you, as I do most heartily, on the
remarkable success which has attended your candidates at the
London Matriculation. I know of no school, either for girls or
boys, which, having sent up sixteen candidates, has passed nine
of them in the Honour division and in the First Class. Nobody
needed any additional proofs of the wisdom and value of the
methods which you have adopted, and which you have done so much
to extend and popularize. Still, every new evidence of the fact
must be gratifying to you; and I assure you it is not less so to
the many friends who know of your work, and who have long
recognized it as some of the soundest, the most fruitful, and
the most beneficent work of our time.
“The high proportion of success attained by the female
candidates was the subject of special remark at the Senate this
afternoon; and I need hardly say, of special felicitation to a
good many of us.
“Yours very truly,
“J. G. FITCH.”
To the same effect is the expression of warm sympathy from Mrs. Grey—
“Harbledown Rectory, Canterbury, July 20, 1879.
“MY DEAR MISS BUSS,
“I must write you a few lines to congratulate you on your
splendid opening ceremonial and prize-giving. When I remember
the position of the schools when I had the good fortune to make
your acquaintance, and compare it with the statements made last
Tuesday, it seems like something in a fairy-tale. And yet with
what ceaseless toil has each step been won. It does one’s heart
good, and makes one think better of life, to see such a brave,
life-long fight as yours crowned at last—crowned, too, while
your head can still wear the crown, and with years before you in
which to ripen the fruits of your victory. I have often feared
that you would break down under the strain of final success come
too late. Thank God it is not so.
“I do not know when I shall see you, unless you come to Rome at
Christmas.
“Do not forget me on my shelf, and believe me ever,
“Yours affectionately,
“MARIA G. GREY.”
Not less warm, nor less warmly appreciated, was a letter from Dr.
Thorold, who had acted as the first chairman to the united governing
body, after the reconstruction which admitted the representatives of the
Brewers’ and the Clothworkers’ Companies. During his chairmanship, Dr.
Thorold had been raised to the Bench, but, with all his new duties, as
Bishop of Rochester, he had remained faithful to the work of which he
had been one of the very earliest friends—
“Selsdon Park, July 19, 1879.
“DEAR MISS BUSS,
“I must write one line of warm and sincere congratulation
to you, on what I may call the coronation day of the work to
which you have given your life.
“While I was careful privately to inform the Prince of Wales of
the service you have so conspicuously rendered to the education
of girls for so many years past, all that he and the Princess
saw must only have confirmed their impression of the solidity of
the work to which they gave their cheerful and ample
recognition.
“I say to you, God bless your work, and you in it, to the glory
of His Holy Name!
“And I say it as one of your warm and sincere and many
friends....
“Most truly yours,
“A. W. ROFFEN.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER VI.
WITH HER FELLOW-WORKERS.
“In honour preferring one another.”
“The relationship between head-mistress and teachers was surely most
unique, for Miss Buss seemed never to tire of having her teachers about
her, and even in the holidays they were constantly at her country
house.”
So writes one of the members of the staff, whose knowledge dates from
the time when she was a “very naughty little girl of seven, constantly
sent into the ‘parlour,’” where she hid behind the door, waiting till,
with a pained expression, never forgotten in all these years, Miss Buss
would turn to say, “Marion, here again! I am so sorry,” and then take
the weeping child on her lap, and talk till she could be sent away with
the kiss that made her happy as well as good.
That this loving influence was successful is proved by the sequel—
“One day, to my great surprise, Miss Buss asked me if I would
like to become a teacher in the school! What I should have
missed in my life if I had refused I dare not think, for, from
that day to this, it has been a life-long pleasure to be with
her, to share in even so small a degree her work, and, above
all, to feel her inspiration!”
And so many more of the staff had, in like manner, been pupils that the
habit of “mothering” them went on, and was quite naturally extended to
new-comers.
From another of the staff we have, in three scenes, a life-story. The
first shows Miss Buss at her happiest with a little child—
“I cannot tell you how much I owe her—nearly everything, I
think, that makes life worth living. I do not remember any time
in my life when her name was not to me a loved and honoured one.
“My sister was a pupil of the school before me, and when I was
quite little I remember longing for my tenth birthday, when I
should be old enough to go there myself. I did not, as a matter
of fact, go till several years later, as I was rather a delicate
child. My first introduction to Miss Buss must have been when I
was very small, for my sister used to tell me how she took me
into the office, and how Miss Buss set me on the table before
her and put my two little feet together, as she told me I was
not _quite_ ready for her class just yet. How like that is to
her way with little children! I think I must have loved her from
that very time!”
The child is a woman grown as we see her again—
“I was in great trouble and perplexity, and in the midst of it
went to spend my holidays with Miss Buss at Fécamp. It was
nearly midnight when we reached her, but she was sitting up for
us, with some hot soup ready, and everything was thought of as
it might have been by my own mother. I had no mother then; but
when Miss Buss took off my wraps with her own hands, and folded
me in her arms, I felt that a second mother had indeed been
given to me. Perhaps I felt this the more because I was with her
at Herne Bay when the news came of my own mother’s sudden death.
It was a Sunday morning, and the trains would not allow of my
going home till later in the day. It would have been a terrible
time but for Miss Buss’ tenderness. She seemed to feel with me
as if the loss were her own. I shall never, never forget it.”
In sorrow, in joy, or in disappointment she was ever ready with comfort,
with sympathy, and with cheer. The third scene is given in a letter,
sent with the remark: “How characteristic it was of her warm sympathy
with all with whom she had to do”—
“Nov., 1881.
“MY DEAR EMILY,
“Old pupil and friend of so many years! I send you my
warmest congratulations. I am very glad for you and our dear
friend Mrs. Bryant, also for Florence Eves and Constance Dicker.
“It seems to us short-sighted mortals that it would be desirable
to have our pleasures _un_mixed, but it never is so. My pleasure
is alloyed by my dear R——’s and E——’s failure, and yours by the
absence of your dear mother! But ‘all things work together for
good,’ if we will but believe.
“Always yours lovingly,
“FRANCES M. BUSS.
“To Miss Emily Findon, B.A.”
Equally to the point is another note, of which the recipient says: “The
whole tone was so strong and so strengthening, so different from the
many letters of kind, but more or less worrying, sympathy received at
the time”—
“Schlangenbad.
“MY DEAR A——,
“I am very sorry to hear that you and X—— have failed to
get through the ‘Intermediate.’ I send you my love and sympathy.
Do not fret. You will succeed later on, when, as I hope, you
will try again; and your knowledge will be all the firmer for
having to work longer.
“You will, no doubt, carry out the proposed plan, viz. go to
Cambridge for a year, and leave the degree till after? You will
have a very happy time at Cambridge, I know.
“Have you heard how Y—— is getting on in Sweden? How well I
remember my delightful holiday there.”
And with an account of life at a German spa, and messages to other
members of the family, the letter ends, hopeful and cheery.
It was always delightful to watch Miss Buss with those of her former
“children” who had expanded into the dignity of B.A., or B.Sc., and were
entitled to wear the gown and “mortar-board” appertaining to this new
rank. No mother ever took more interest in her girls’ first party frock
or presentation robes than did Miss Buss in those early days in the then
quite novel attire of her “girl-graduates.” Mrs. Bryant had not been a
pupil in the school, but she was young enough to pass for one, and the
sight of her gorgeous gold-and-scarlet doctor’s gown was a supreme joy
to her older friend, to whom no such distinction had been possible in
her own young days. There was never a touch of envy or of selfish regret
in this sympathy with the winners of the honours for which she herself
had longed in vain—no, not in vain, since that longing had helped to
open the way to those who had since outstripped her in the race. Miss
Toplis, in her sketch of Miss Buss, in the _Educational Review_, calls
attention to—
“two characteristics which may perhaps be known only to those in
daily contact with her. One was that jealousy and selfishness
were impossible to her nature; the other, her power of living in
the lives of others. The success or distinction of friend or
colleague was one of her greatest pleasures. No one could share
such pleasures as Miss Buss did, and the loss of her ever-ready
sympathy in joy or sorrow is one of the realities we cannot yet
face.”
In such sympathy, Miss Buss certainly well earned the right to the
exaltation expressed in a postscript to a letter on “guild” work to Mr.
Garrod, when she says, apropos of the recent success of Miss Philippa
Fawcett at Cambridge, “Thank God, we have abolished sex in education!”
There are some amusing little touches of the purely feminine in
connection with these first academic gowns and hoods, which were
presented by the staff to its first graduates at a fancy-dress ball
given by Miss Buss in honour of the occasion. The hoods were made among
themselves, the pattern being taken from that of Sir Philip Magnus, in
the intervals of his inspection of the school. Mrs. Bryant cut them out,
and the pieces left over of the yellow and brown silk are still in the
drawer where thrifty housewives keep their pieces.
It may be imagined that no small excitement prevailed among the
girl-graduates about the first public appearance at Burlington House in
the full dress. On the first occasion of the presentation of degrees to
women, the shy counsel prevailed, and the ladies went up in their usual
garb. The next step is thus described by Mrs. Bryant—
“But the following year we called a meeting to settle among
ourselves, if possible unanimously, the course to be pursued.
I confess I resented the idea of being denied my academicals
as much as I have thought it hard to appear as a number only
in the Senior Cambridge lists years before. There was much
hesitation on the part of several, however, but in the end I
was instructed to write to the Registrar enclosing our
resolution to wear the academic dress if no objection to this
course was made by the senate. There was no lack of comedy in
the situation—consulting a body of staid and serious gentlemen
as to whether we should or should not wear the robes to which
we were entitled by the University regulations. However, it
was necessary to allay all doubt, and the message from the
senate received in reply settled the question for that time
and henceforth. We have often smiled over these little
incidents, seeing what universal approval was at once won for
our ‘gowns and hoods.’ And at school, on festive days, when
these are worn, the poor Cambridge graduates—graduates in all
but name—grieve because they have no such symbol with which to
deck—it does not veil—their femininity.”
It may not be out of place here to give some extracts from letters to
Miss Buss from Mrs. William Grey which show how needlework is regarded
by the leading educationalists. Speaking of the Maria Grey Training
School (in connection with the College), Mrs. Grey writes—
“Rome, Nov. 27, 1880.
“I also wish to give a yearly prize of £2 to the school for two
subjects. You have suggested Botany and Needlework. But as I
know nothing of botany, and have always said that needlework
should be taught at home to girls above the elementary school
class, I should prefer English or French. If, however, you have
a special reason for wishing for a Botany prize, I will at once
agree to that instead of the French.”
“Hôtel du Louvre, Rome, Jan. 7, 1882.
“Your pleasant and affectionate letter reached me some days ago.
The kind feeling you express warms one’s heart, at this distance
from home, when one feels very acutely too often that one has
drifted away from all who know, or care, or are cared for. One’s
life feels so useless, and the current of life seems so strong
in England that those who can no longer go on with it have a
sense of isolation which kind words like yours break in upon
most soothingly.
“I wanted to tell you that you have nearly, if not quite,
converted me to the needlework in schools to which I have always
been opposed on our council—not from any want of realizing the
importance of the art, but because it is one that ought to be
taught at home. I was a great worker till a few years ago. In
all our young days we made everything we wore, and I was so fond
of embroidery that I scarcely trusted myself to look at it in
the morning, lest I should be tempted to waste my time upon it.
I tell you this that you may see how little likely I am to
undervalue the art; and if mothers are so foolish or so ignorant
as not to teach it, then, sooner than leave it untaught, I
acknowledge that we ought to take it up.
“But with our scanty time and overcrowded subjects, the
difficulty is very great. This reminds me of what I thought a
good thing in the St. Martin’s Lane School—and I believe it was
your friend Miss Doreck who established it—and that was a prize
for the best piece of needlework _done in the holidays_. That
stirs mothers as well as daughters.”
Those who were inside the University Movement had many a quiet laugh
over the baseless terrors of the outsiders who prophesied the dire
results to arise from the possession of degrees by women. I remember the
appreciation with which Miss Buss repeated a story she had just heard
from one of her girls, who had gone to a dance shortly after gaining her
B.A. degree, whilst the subject was still matter for talk. Her partner,
feeling himself quite safe with this peculiarly fair, sweet,
girlish-looking girl, in her pretty evening frock, had made himself
merry over the lady-graduates, winding up with the remark, “There is
always something quite unmistakable about them, don’t you know! You
can’t fail to spot them at a glance!” His very amiable partner only
replied gently, “Do you think so?”
But one of her friends proved less merciful, and the poor young man
found himself in a position to sympathize with another victim, also at
an evening party, who had been for some time talking, without knowing
it, to the fair winner of a prize essay on some abstruse point of law.
When at last he discovered her name, the shock was so great that,
without waiting to collect himself, he blurted out, “What! _You Miss
Orme?_ Why, I thought you hadn’t an idea in your head!”—a remark
naturally treasured by that lady as one of her most cherished
compliments.
To those who are familiar with life at the North London Collegiate
Schools, knowing the relations already indicated between the
head-mistress and her staff, there is something of the same
entertainment in one of the press notices relating to Miss Buss and her
work—almost the only notice not wholly sympathetic. It did, indeed, do
full justice to her exceptional qualities, but it concludes with a
remark worthy of preservation as a valuable fossil for future explorers
into the early history of the new education. The reviewer feels that he
“cannot let the vague sentiment occasioned by her death pass without an
honest criticism of her work,” thus concluding this criticism—
“It is perfectly true that ‘the influence of her work stretched
beyond her own two schools,’ as the _Times_ says; but perhaps
there has been as much loss as gain in this. The movement for
founding ‘High Schools for Girls’ spread, and Miss Buss’
establishments were the models; the consequence is that a High
School education only fits a girl to be a High School
teacher—and she could scarcely choose a worse calling.”
It must be inconsistent with the dignity of a “Saturday Reviewer” to
explain himself, since this writer remorselessly leaves the whole class
of High School teachers—including, of course, those of the “model
establishments”—under the ban of this hopeless condemnation.
It could be wished that this critic might have gone over at least two of
the schools thus judged, and have been present at some of the varied
“functions,” when the head-mistress was found in the midst of her
“children.” The teachers holding their classes might possibly have
failed to please him, since he still holds the belief in “sex in
education”; but the girlish laughter of the gymnasium, where it was
difficult to distinguish teacher from pupil, would have rung in his ears
with a pleasant chime; or that same gymnasium on “Founder’s Day,” with
its show of useful garments for the poor, and of ingeniously constructed
toys for the children of the hospitals, would have been a sight to the
credit alike of teachers and taught; or, again, if lucky enough to
witness a performance of the Amateur Dramatic Club—an association among
the teachers—he might have gone away comforted by the knowledge that
girlish grace and brightness, as well as womanly thought and goodness,
are not the exclusive prerogative of women _outside_ the new public
schools for girls.
One of the members of the Amateur Dramatic Club writes—
“Nowhere was Miss Buss’ organizing power more visible to us
girls than as stage-manager. In the summer of 1882, for the last
time, the Sixth Form gave _tableaux vivants_ on two or three
consecutive days. Miss Buss herself said she could not undertake
them again, as the preparation fell too heavily on her and the
staff at the end of the summer term. For us, after our London
Matriculation Examination it was only rest and pleasure. They
were a brilliant success; and Miss Buss praised us openly for
the way in which we had worked for each other, and the pleasure
we had shown in each other’s parts. Looking back, I am convinced
that it was to her that we owed the kindly spirit which did
indeed animate us, and still brings back that summer as a
delightful memory. It would indeed have been difficult to
quarrel when she was working her hardest to make each one enjoy
herself.”
Very far indeed from dull or prosy were the associations of school or
college to these girls. Here is one bit of fun, from some “Tableaux”
given in 1869, for the benefit of Hitchin, which realized £13. At the
close of a series of very artistic pictures, the curtain rose on a
concourse of European nations, and Britannia, coming to life, advanced
to the front, with an appeal written by an “Old Girl,” an appeal not
quite obsolete even in our day—
“There was an old woman who lived in her shoe,
She had so many daughters she didn’t know what to do;
For they all of them possibly couldn’t be wed,
So she gave them a good education instead.
(_Ruefully_) But alas and alack for that poor old dame,
The better she taught them the faster they came!
(_Solemnly_) Hark to the echo of ‘sublime despair’
That sobs along the mournful wintry air!
(_Distant chorus of girls’ voices._)
We’ve got no work to do,
We’ve got no work to do,
We’ve done our hair,
And we declare
We’ve nothing else to do!
(_Air_, ‘Molly Bawn.’)
Ye college dons, why leave us pining,
Sure there’ll be classes for us too;
Ne’er deem bright eyes more bright are shining
Because they’ve nothing else to do.”
Of the graver side of their work, and as giving an idea of the kind of
relation existing between Miss Buss and her “dear colleagues,” or “dear
fellow-workers,” as she loved to call them, Mrs. Bryant gives us an
outline, which lets us see not merely the workers themselves, but also
the high quality of their work—
“I have been asked to write some account of these latter—perhaps
we might call them triumphant—years of my dear friend’s
life-work, as I saw them in the light of my close connection
with her, and the marvellous friendship she extended to me.
These were the years when she had entered, in one sense, into
the fruits of her labours. The school she founded had become a
public school—‘Miss Buss’ school’ still—but immortalized. The
women’s educational movement, in the moulding of which she had
been a potent force, had taken shape, and was moving to its
goal—that goal of equal opportunity with the hitherto more
favoured sex, which we younger women are apt to regard as our
natural birthright, although we have not entirely secured it
yet. There were many worries for her still, and very much work
on educational problems; but as regards the general question of
the education of girls, the critical turnings on the road were
practically passed when I joined it, and to reverse the course
of our educational efforts would have been like turning back the
Thames at—well, not London Bridge—say, Maidenhead.
“In 1875, the future of women was, I believe, much more certain
than it appeared. It may be that I think this because it was
always taken so much as a matter of course in the logic of my
family circle. It had never been suggested to me in my life that
I had not an equal birthright to knowledge with my brother.
Hence it happened most naturally that I was an early candidate
for the Senior Local Examinations, out of which came my
acquaintance with Miss Emily Davies, and afterwards with Miss
Buss. I remember seeing her among her girls in the intervals of
the examination; and she, as I afterwards learned, was
interested in the girl whose chief subject was mathematics. Our
family birthright was specially in mathematics, and all of us,
boys and girls, grew up to cultivate that soil. I dwell on this
fact here because it was as a woman who could teach mathematics
that Miss Buss first sent for me. She believed that young girls
should be taught by women, and she wanted to build up
mathematical studies.
“Presently a time came when I resolved, not to do a little
teaching, but to throw my whole life into the work of education.
Especially I wanted to teach girls mathematics. I thought that
women’s lives would be happier and sounder if they had, as a
matter of course, their fair share of the sterner intellectual
discipline that had been such a joy to me. My father was a born
teacher and an educational enthusiast. Moreover, to his
scientific habit of mind it was as natural to regard teaching as
a scientific art as to believe that girls should be fully
educated. My feeling about these things was, in the first
instance, the continuation of his. Then I was early a disciple,
in matters philosophical, of the great Mill; and my first
definite idea of a science of education, comparable in practical
efficiency to the science of medicine, was built up out of a
suggestion in the pages of his great work on Logic. I had just
begun to be a student of psychology, and was so profoundly
interested in problems of life and character that I was strongly
drawn to turn my taste for scribbling, then very strong, to
writing novels of a serious workmanlike kind. However, I was
resolved that they must be first-rate novels, and I had
doubts—wise doubts—that I could count on myself for such. But in
education the work was sure to be good world-building work,
however humble, if honestly done, and my interest in psychology
could take practical shape in it. So I resolved to leave the pen
for leisure moments, to take to blackboard and chalk instead,
and thus to work out real results in thought and character—that
is, if I could get the chance. And presently the best of all
chances was given. An old pupil of the Camden Street School had
been a student with me at Bedford College, and from her I
obtained an introduction—a great boon, I thought it—to the
founder and head of the North London Collegiate School.
“So I first saw Miss Buss in her own home, in the drawing-room
of Myra Lodge, gracious, dignified, strong of head, tender of
heart, as I ever knew her afterwards. She gave me an hour or
more of her precious time, and explained to me clearly and
graphically, as she was wont, the then present position of
affairs as regarded the education of girls and the prospects of
teaching as a professional career. Great was her zeal at all
times, and her ambition in the cause of the women who work for
their living, and so she laid stress on the new opportunities
for making a position and an ample income that the educational
demand was opening up to women, a profession with a few great
prizes and many smaller ones having taken the place of the
resident governess’ limited outlook. So she told me about the
new Endowed Schools for Girls, and, among other things, that the
great prize (financially speaking) would be the projected St.
Paul’s School for Girls, the mistress of which would have a
salary rising to as much as £2000 a year. Alas! that was a
project which is only a project still, and the North London
Collegiate School remains, as it was twenty years ago, at the
high-water mark of remuneration for women’s labour. It was her
view that, for the dignity and efficiency of teaching in this
branch and for the good of women-workers generally, there should
be many more prizes at least as great, and at all times she was
much concerned that reasonably good salaries should be secured,
especially for that class of assistant teachers who remain at
work for the best part of their lives.
“But the central interest of that first conversation turned, to
my mind, upon the expression of her views about the importance
of teachers being trained for their work. It seemed to her so
obvious that she who undertakes to carry out an undertaking so
delicate and difficult as that of education should first make as
careful a study as might be of the end to be attained and the
means of attaining it, and should be trained as an artist is
trained in the _technique_ and spirit of his work. She was,
above all things, practical, and her feeling in the matter was
of practical origin, while my feeling, which coincided with it,
sprang rather from a theoretical root. She was an artist’s
daughter, and her method of judgment was largely the artistic
method. She saw her problems whole, as concrete ends to be
gained, and she found her way to them intuitively as she went
on. She always saw truth in the concrete, and was so little
_doctrinaire_ herself that the _doctrinaire_ character in other
people did not rouse her antipathy and interfere with her
perception of merit in their theories. It is the pure theorists
who are most impatient of each other.
“The great artist zealous for his work, and intent on its
perfection, is eager to learn all he can about it—to assimilate
the wisdom of other workers in his field, to think about it in
all its bearings, to learn to see, to practise, to be
criticized, to be trained. This, I take it, was the attitude of
mind in which Frances Mary Buss some forty years ago, conceived
the idea of training for teachers as a universal need from which
secondary teachers should not be exempt. Before the school in
Kentish Town was opened, Mrs. Buss went to the Home and Colonial
Training College and put herself through the training of the
elementary teacher. One may well wonder whether any other woman
in the same rank about to open a small private school ever
dreamed of such a preparation as needful. But to these two,
mother and daughter, it seemed simply essential, and when the
school developed, and they had a staff of teachers, they thought
it necessary not to be content with the training they themselves
could give in the school ways, but applied to have a department
for secondary teachers opened at the Home and Colonial College.
This was done solely for the benefit of ‘Miss Buss’ teachers’ at
first, though others came in time. Greatest among those others
was Miss Clough.
“This little history of the idea of training, as Miss Buss held
it first, is characteristic of her attitude on the subject
throughout. She thought it essential, and at the same time so
great and special a work, that it ought to be undertaken by
those who made a special business of it, and not by the heads of
schools whose special business was something else. She felt the
need of it as an artist in her work, she sought to have it
supplied in the spirit of the administrator by the foundation of
institutions for it.
“To these lectures Miss Buss sent all the young teachers whom
she could induce to go. Very often, I suppose, they resisted the
light, as, in the pride of youth and eagerness to be doing, they
resist the light of the training college still. In eagerness and
self-confidence I was probably equal to most, but I had been
theorizing about education on my own account, and was very
sensible of the darkness. So when she told me about the College
of Preceptors and Mr. Payne, she showed me what I was looking
for, and I eagerly accepted the suggestion of attending the
lectures. She told me afterwards how much she was pleased with
my ready interest. It was indeed at this point that our minds
first met. And perhaps this was partly why, when she brought me
into the hall to let me out herself, she first held out her hand
and then looking at me in the way her girls so well know, she
suddenly took me in her arms and kissed me. But chiefly it was
an impulse of motherly tenderness that prompted her. I was young
and had suffered.
“This was in January, before school opened. In February, she
sent for me to come twice a week and teach mathematics. The
school was in 202, Camden Road, then, and there were 300 girls.
Miss Armstead and Miss Lyndon were in the first class I ever
taught. They were great friends, but had agreed not to sit
together, so that they might escape the temptation of talking. I
had never been inside a school before, and had no idea what
girls other than I had been were like intellectually. I might
well feel modest about the need of training in the _technique_
of managing a class, the one thing in which the College of
Preceptors’ lectures did not specially help me. But the girls
were very good, and did not ‘try it on,’ with one exception, and
she used to be sorry, and apologize of her own accord. I
remember being wonderfully impressed by the high tone of feeling
that prevailed, the absence of petty jealousies, the
trustworthiness of the girls, and the confidence placed in them
about marks and conduct. Over all the head-mistress was as a
second conscience. Nothing mean, petty, or egotistic could
survive contact with the fresh bracing air of her personality. I
was very new and very inexperienced in school ways; she had her
little anxieties about me, and used to look after my classes a
good deal at first. All young teachers know what this feels
like, but it was a great help none the less, and we must all win
our spurs before we get them. Except those who remained of the
original staff, I was the only teacher there who had not been a
pupil.
“Soon I came for all my time, and taught German. But the demand
for mathematics grew as the teaching developed, and before long
all my teaching time was absorbed in this stricter intellectual
discipline of the North London girl. It is perhaps a digression,
but I may mention that the first genius I found was Sara Annie
Burstall. With Miss Buss as a head-mistress, and such a pupil as
that, and many more to love and help, I began to be happy in
those days.
“As the school and its head became more and more to me, I grew
into that position in relation to both which enables me to give
some account of my dear friend’s mind and practice, first as
shown in the inner work of the North London Collegiate School
during these later years, and secondly in relation to the
various phases of the educational movement outside.
“In the head-mistress’ room at the North London Collegiate
School there was in leisure moments always likely to be going on
discussion of many things other than the immediate business of
education in the school. It was indeed a noteworthy fact that so
much concentration of work and interest in such an effort as the
creation of this great school out of the void that preceded it,
should have gone with so wide an extension of interest in other
fields, and these not educational fields only. One delightful
bond of sympathy between Miss Buss and me was our common
interest in public affairs, and the harmony of our political
opinions. How eagerly she looked for news in stirring times! how
heartily she threw herself into the questions of the day! and
how she enjoyed a good political discussion! She was thoroughly
imbued with the fine civic spirit, and for my part I believe
this contact of her mind with the issues of life on a
larger—even though rougher—scale, was invaluable for the health
of the school-life, as a corrective to the narrow scholastic
spirit which so easily banishes the fresh air from schools, and
possibly sometimes even from universities. It is not the
particular opinions that tell, it is the contact with genuine
public spirit in any shape.
“But it is with the educational interests and the outer circles
of her life in connection with them that we have here to do. In
all her work she had her eye always on the larger issues. The
North London Collegiate School was never out of perspective in
the mental picture of the educational field. No other
educational leader has worked with more devotion to one special
institution, but though it was the centre of her practical world
it never usurped the place of centre in her vision. And for this
very reason it was at the central source of many educational
movements, because she was in it, and was also at the very heart
of them.
“The first place among these may be given to the education of
women in all its phases. But concern for the cultivation and
spread of educational principles and the professional training
of the teacher lay scarcely less near her heart. During the
later years, this occupied even more of her attention, and she
never had ‘women only’ in her mind. Then it was in the very
nature of her that she should be greatly exercised by the
politico-educational problems before they rose at all above the
horizon of the regular scholastic mind. I wonder how many
schoolmasters in England came to look into the question of Welsh
Intermediate Education, its creation and organization, when the
earliest Welsh Education Bills came before the House of Commons.
But we used to discuss these things in those days over our
midday meal, and debate on the analogy, or want of analogy, with
the English problem. The last piece of public work she did was
to answer the queries sent to educationalists by the Royal
Commission on Secondary Education. She was too ill then to give
evidence before the Commission, too ill to have answered these
queries if the ideas of them had been new to her, but she had
known her mind about them clearly in the days of her strength,
and it was easy to go over familiar ground once more. It was so
familiar to her that it was familiar ground to me too; I knew
her opinions as well as I knew my own (or better, in so far as
they were more determinate).”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER VII.
LIFE AT MYRA LODGE.
“To know her is a liberal education.”
“I have no liking for large boarding-schools. My ideal of
education is large, well-conducted day schools, with all the
life and discipline that numbers alone can give; not to speak of
the greater cheapness and efficiency of the teaching. Our young
women are narrowed sadly by the want of sympathy, large
experience, and right self-estimation which only mixing with
numbers gives. But no large dormitories nor dining-rooms. Let
the education be as broad and vivacious as may be, and to a
certain extent, public; at all events, public-spirited. But, if
boarders must attend, let them live in families, under proper
regulations, of course, and attend as day scholars. Large
boarding-schools give a sort of hardness, which I, for one,
greatly dislike. They destroy the home-feelings, but I need not
dwell on these points; my feelings are most in favour of day
schools and good homes.
“We have two boarding-houses. One, my own, is of very recent
establishment—the girls go to and from school with me or an
assistant-governess. Their education is just the same as that of
all the day pupils.
“It is right, however, to say that this plan of letting the
mistress receive boarders is not allowed at the Cheltenham
Ladies’ College, a large and successful institution, the only
(almost) efficient proprietary girls’ school in this country. I
can see possible evils, but as I have only just begun, am not
fully aware of them yet. I should not recommend, I think, the
mistress of a great day school being allowed to begin with a
boarding-house. Her strength and whole working time ought to go
to the school.”
So wrote Miss Buss in 1868. She had taken Myra Lodge because she could
not otherwise have carried out her great scheme. She afterwards came to
see more clearly still that the head of a great school ought to have her
time at home free from all claims. Had she been able to act on this from
the first, her own life might have been prolonged. But once having taken
up the life at Myra she could never bring herself to let the girls go.
Even when, at last, she handed the boarding-house over to Miss Edwards,
she moved to the house adjoining, and had a door left so that she could
have girls to see her or go to see them. She said: “I do not think I
could now be quite happy without girls round me.”
In accordance with her own theories, she tried to make Myra Lodge as
home-like as possible. And the welfare of her girls—physical, mental,
and spiritual—was her first care. To hygiene she had paid special
attention, and her arrangements for ventilation, bathing, and food, left
nothing to be desired. She always laid great stress on the need of
sufficient food, varied in every possible way; and every one within her
range must have heard her expatiate on the folly, or wickedness, for she
gave it the harder term, which induces so many young women to do fatal
injury to their health by insufficient and unsuitable food. Of the
laziness and indifference which makes so many of them content with odd
cups of tea, in place of regular and proper meals, she could not speak
too strongly. The Myra girls were fed well, and with sufficient luxuries
to make “home hampers” unnecessary.
On all sides we hear of the special care exercised in the matter of
proper food during examinations, or in any time of extra strain. If it
was known that the interval during an examination was too brief to allow
of a full meal, hot soup, or hot milk, with bread and butter, or scone,
would be ready at the right time.
Here is a word to the point from Miss Buss, to whom I had mentioned some
child’s complaint against a teacher—
“If there is anything wrong, I will see to it, but, meantime, I
cannot but think there is as much _real_ foundation for this
charge against Miss S. as there is in the one against me, which
has taken much of my time this week to trace out, viz. that a
girl now in school, was removed from my house, and placed under
medical treatment, because of the _insufficiency of food_.
“It is quite impossible to trust in children’s judgments until
all sides of the question are looked into. Their views are as
immature as their bodies.
“Another child speaks in the same way of another teacher, and I
am constantly having to bring in floods of light on a girl.”
Suitable clothing was also a matter of careful consideration. Miss Buss
would have liked a school-uniform, which she would have made graceful as
well as rational; but, except in the gymnasium, she never attained this
desire, and had to content herself with at school advising, and at Myra
compelling, the most needful reforms. She waged war against unsuitable
ornamentation, lace and jewellery in the morning being always attacked.
She would, if possible, have given each girl a separate room, well
supplied with the “place for everything,” in which everything would be
expected to be in its place. Failing this, she so divided the rooms by
curtains that each inmate secured one portion that was specially her
own.
At one time it was rather a fashion to talk of the “over-work” at Miss
Buss’ schools. Doubtless there were cases of girls too delicate for the
life of a public school, who ought to have been kept at home; and there
were also cases—very numerous—in which girls who were expected to do
school-work and at the same time meet every home claim, as well as enjoy
social distractions and dissipations, certainly did suffer. But at Myra
Lodge, where life was duly regulated, and the time for study fixed to
suit each girl, no one suffered who was at all fit to be away from her
mother’s care, whilst many were very markedly improved in health during
their stay there.
Having myself suffered, for life, from the ignorance of the laws of
health common to even the most intellectually advanced teachers of my
youth, I was interested in this question, and often talked it over with
Miss Buss. Looking back on my own experience, and contrasting it with
what I knew of the arrangements at Myra, I could never bring myself to
believe in the sufferings of girls enjoying the benefit of Miss Buss’
thorough knowledge of hygiene.
She fully endorsed the opinion expressed by Miss Beale, in an able paper
read before the Social Science Congress, in 1874, where she says—
“I remember the outcry raised when it was proposed to open the
local examinations to girls. The deed was done, and none of the
evils predicted have fallen on us. I frequently challenge our
visitors to find a delicate-looking girl among our students. I
do not say we have none, but there are so few that it is not
easy to find them. I kept, one year, a record of all the causes
of absence, and found that in the higher classes pupils were
absent from illness on an average about three days in a year, in
the lower from five to six, and in the lowest rather more.”
And from America comes the satisfactory report of “headaches diminishing
and hysteria disappearing under the strengthening influences on body and
mind of this higher education.”
There is no doubt that the pupils of the North London Collegiate Schools
had enough to do. But I know of at least two cases where the complaint
was quite the other way. Miss Buss says in one note—
“Fancy Mr. ——! He also wrote last year objecting to his
daughter’s home-work being limited. I know that most of the Myra
girls finish at seven o’clock, do no lessons before nine in the
morning, do _none at all_ on Friday evening, and always put
every bit of school-work by on Saturday at twelve. This leaves
many an hour free. But parents are the weakest of mortals.
Unmarried ‘_Arnies_’ have _will_, and _carry out_ what they know
to be right!”
In another case a pupil was withdrawn from Myra Lodge because she was
not allowed to work beyond the allotted time. Miss Buss writes in
reference to this—
“The child thinks she will be allowed, I suppose, to study
whatever hours she likes, if she goes elsewhere. _I_ will not
allow more than a certain amount. What’s not done then, must be
left undone. The consequence is, mental as well as bodily
activity, in time.”
Later, she again refers to the same subject: “Patty Watson has left me.
It is a good lesson of failure, and helps, let us hope, to repress that
‘bladder of elation’ of which you speak.” And, once again, apropos to
some other difficulty: “The enclosed note is very satisfactory. J—— D——
was not allowed to go her own way, like Patty, who, by the way, is a
clever girl, conscientious and industrious.”
It may be open to question, perhaps, whether Miss Buss might not have
relaxed her rules in favour of this very remarkable girl. But it is also
probable that the very perception of the dangers attending overstrain
may have made her resolute against it. Miss Ellen Martha Watson had gone
to Myra Lodge, mainly that she might pursue study in higher mathematics,
and consequently might have expected to count as more than an ordinary
schoolgirl. She was, however, of highly sensitive organization, and no
one who knows the care exercised over each girl individually can doubt
that Miss Buss was aware of all that concerned her, and judged
accordingly.
Miss Watson gained first-class honours in the Senior Cambridge Local
Examination while at Myra Lodge. Afterwards, at the University College
Intermediate, she took the highest prize for applied mathematics and
mechanics, as well as a £50 Scholarship. Professor Clifford said on this
occasion that the proficiency of Miss Watson would have been very rare
in a man, but he had been utterly unprepared to find it in a woman,
adding that, “a few more students like Miss Watson would raise
University College to a status far surpassing that of institutions
twenty times as rich and two hundred times longer in existence.”
A case so exceptional must stand alone; but still the question does
suggest itself, if, throughout her whole school-life, Miss Watson had
been subject to the restrictions judged wholesome by one so wise as Miss
Buss, might she not possibly have been spared to work out her splendid
destiny, instead of being so early laid to rest in her lonely South
African grave?
It is impossible to form any rules which will include the few brilliant
exceptions who are a law to themselves; such, for example, as Miss
Cobbe, one out of a thousand, in being endowed with a physique to match
her mental vigour, who gives an instance of the kind of work possible to
herself. She is contrasting the old and the new order of things, or
_impulse_ versus _system_.
“I can make no sort of pretensions to have acquired, even in my
best days, anything like the instruction which the young
students of Girton and Newnham and Lady Margaret Hall are so
fortunate as to possess; and much I envy their opportunities for
acquiring accurate scholarship. But I know not whether the
method they follow can, on the whole, convey as much of the pure
delight of learning as did my solitary early studies. When the
summer morning sun rose over the trees and shone into my
bedroom, finding me still over my books from the evening before,
and when I then sauntered out to take a sleep on one of the
garden-seats in the shrubbery, the sense of having learnt
something, or cleared up some hitherto doubted point, or added a
store of fresh ideas to my mental riches, was of purest
satisfaction.”
Without coming to any final decision on the best mode of dealing with
genius, to which study after this fashion may be natural, we may at
least safely conclude that even in the most elastic of school
boarding-houses, a girl so expansive could scarcely find herself happy,
or be a source of happiness to the anxious mistress.
But how happy even a very clever girl might be at Myra we may see from
some memories of a stay of six months, spent in preparation for Girton,
where the writer, Mrs. Lewis, distinguished herself—
“I remember, as if it was yesterday, my first meeting with Miss
Buss, now twenty-three years ago.... At the earliest possible
moment she had interviewed me privately, and I was deeply
impressed by her earnest manner, by the thoroughness with which
she went into my former education, and the evident intention of
doing her utmost for me. This I soon knew was characteristic of
her. We were, to her, individuals—each one the object of genuine
interest and real anxiety....
“She talked to me more as an adult than as a schoolgirl, and I
remember with gratitude that she invited me to walk with her to
church, or on any occasion when she happened to go out with us,
interesting me in some social, educational, or philanthropic
subject, talking with such fluency and such a fund of
illustration and of racy anecdote that I was sorry when our
destination was reached. Looking back, I realize what an
unusually generous thing it was for all these privileges to be
poured out on a raw schoolgirl, and, moreover, on a stranger.
That eager, ungrudging, self-spending for others was, to my
mind, the most noticeable feature of dear Miss Buss’ daily life.
“In about two months Miss Buss began actively arranging for me
to see as much of London as possible during my stay with her.
With all the varied work and cares of her busy days upon her,
she would constantly ask, ‘Had I seen this place of interest?
had I heard that famous preacher? had I ever been so-and-so?’
And every spare afternoon or evening was used to the best
advantage, either personally, or with any lady she could find
free to chaperone me. She often told me that a teacher ought to
have as wide and varied an experience as possible, and all the
general information she could get, and should never think that
book-learning alone would fit her for her post. Foreign travel,
social intercourse, general reading, all were insisted on as
indispensable. And she would give me bits of the history of her
own struggles....
“The happiness of all her pupils was to her an object of real
solicitude. I remember my delighted surprise on one of the first
Saturdays at her cheery invitation, ‘Now, girls, which of you
would like to come to see Maccabe, at St. George’s Hall, with me
this afternoon?’ I knew the week had been a very busy one, and I
wondered how Miss Buss could find the energy to be so gay, and
to laugh with the merriest of us at the jokes.
“Looking back, I realize that I cannot over-estimate the value
of such association with that noble, earnest, sympathetic
nature. And, certainly, I have never seen any one who so equally
combined earnestness of purpose, untiring industry, indomitable
perseverance, and shrewd common sense, with the perfection of
womanly sympathy.”
Of the intellectually stimulating effect of this association another
pupil speaks strongly—
“Although it is quite impossible for any of us to measure the
great influence for good that Miss Buss has exerted over the
whole of our lives, in one particular I have specially felt the
great help her training has been to me personally, viz. the
choice of books and taste for good literature.
“I can remember, quite early in my school-life, the cutting
satire with which Miss Buss would criticize some of the modern
trash in the shape of literature, so that one felt (and that
feeling I have never lost) one simply could not read such books.
On the other hand, she always recommended plenty of good
wholesome books to help us in the choice of our reading; while,
in pointing out passages, or in explaining allusions, she roused
interest, and cultivated the taste for all that is good and pure
in literature.
“She applied to books, as to other things, her favourite motto:
‘Aim high, and you will strike high!’
“She seemed, in all her teaching, to agree with the poet Lowell,
that ‘not failure, but low aim, is crime!’
“A favourite subject for debate was the _Ethics of Waste_,
showing that everything wantonly destroyed is a loss to the
community. The wickedness of waste of food seems to have excited
much attention, and set the girls, among themselves, to discuss
and make calculations concerning it which served—as they were
meant to do—to give safe and harmless topics for talk.
“Akin to this was the effort to make girls look into the future,
and not to trust to what might happen, but to prepare by present
action in acquiring habits of decision and industry. She thought
that every woman should be independent, and deprecated
dependence on brothers or other friends, so long as effort was
possible on their own part.”
Another “Myra girl” seizes on a point very characteristic, when she
says—
“To schoolgirl and friend alike, Miss Buss was entirely natural.
She was too great to think of, or to need, exterior aids to
respect. Forgetful of herself, she was ever ready to share her
thoughts or memories with all who could be interested or helped
by them.
“In her conversation she avoided all personal gossip. Never did
an unkind or hasty word about a fellow-being cross her lips, and
often in the school addresses, she told us that by chatter the
ninth commandment was easily broken, and that topics about
acquaintances begun in innocence, ended only in harm and hurt to
others.”
There is a story of her that, one day, after a visitor had gone, Miss
Buss seemed very uncomfortable, and finally said, “I feel as if I had
been stung all over; that talk has left so many stings behind it!” It
was her rule, carefully kept, never to repeat unpleasant things; but she
never forgot to mention any kind word said about others.
Miss Fawcett speaks of Miss Buss’ sympathy with young life and its
needs, and she adds—
“The girls were a great happiness to Miss Buss. If one or other
did give trouble through temper—and this did worry her—we would
sometimes comfort each other by reflecting how many of them did
nothing of the kind, but went on tranquilly and happily. ‘Yes,’
she would say, ‘it is the old story; the ninety and nine are apt
to be forgotten in the struggle with the one!’ And she would
cheer up.”
She was very indulgent to her girls at the half-term holidays. Besides
sending them for pleasant excursions, she liked them to be able to go
into the kitchen to make toffee, and to cook some little dainty
(Northcountry cakes or specialities), or anything else they might like.
The girls’ birthdays were always marked by some special treat. On one
occasion we hear that the younger children were, for once, to be allowed
to make “just as much noise as they liked.” The results were so
“tremendous” that a friendly policeman looked in to see if his services
were required, greatly relieved to find that the shrieks which had
attracted him were only shrieks of laughter.
But, whilst delighting in real fun, the line was drawn, hard and fast,
at slang, roughness, and, above all, at practical jokes. No girl who had
once had a talk with her on this last topic was likely to make a second
attempt within reach of Miss Buss. The doings of certain “smart” sets
found small tolerance in her eyes. Nor did the “Dodo” and “Yellow Aster”
literature fare better, though for most of it she would have probably
given the prescription that worked so well in one particular case of
morbid excitement—“closed doors and open windows,” or silence and fresh
air.
Miss Buss had remarked, as a fact of her experience, that if girls of
great natural vanity could not take the lead in any other way, they
developed something sensational in health. Hearing of a case of this
sort in one of the boarding-houses, she requested to be sent for if
another fainting fit should come on. This was done. On arriving, she
found the girls’ room full of anxious bystanders, who were at once
dismissed, only excepting the head of the house, who was asked to close
the door and open all the windows.
Miss Buss then demanded a large jug of “the very coldest water that
could be procured,” adding, in distinct tones, “There is no sort of
danger in this kind of attack, and the most certain cure is a sudden
dash of very cold water in the face.”
In telling me this story, she added, with one of her most genial smiles—
“I saw that the child had her best frock on, and I wanted to give her
time.”
Before the water came, the patient was able to gasp out, “Ah, I feel
better now, thank you!”
“That is right, my child. I am glad you feel better. And now remember,
in future, that you need never alarm either yourself or any one else. If
you feel a little faintness coming on, just retire to your own room,
without saying anything about it. Shut your door, open all the windows,
and lie down quietly. You will soon find yourself well again.”
There was no recurrence of the attack.
With weakness of will Miss Buss could by nature have little sympathy.
But she was stern only when she knew that a will might be roused to
greater effort, which, if let alone, could only grow more and more
feeble. With merely morbid and self-centred natures she had still less
affinity, and for these the prescription, “Do your next duty first!”
would be very strongly enforced.
Coldness or extreme reserve of manner was always a trial to Miss Buss,
as to all persons of a naturally demonstrative temperament. It was true
that she herself sometimes exercised a repressive influence, but this
was only when she was very much run down or worried. Usually, she drew
people out by her frank kindness. One of her very favourite stories for
her girls was Mrs. Gatty’s charming kitten story, “Purr when you are
pleased!” She liked every one to show feelings of pleasure or kindness,
and in this she set them a bright example.
Miss Fawcett recalls, among many things bearing on the same point, a
remark made to her by Miss Buss, as they passed two new girls—both of
whom are since known to fame—“It is always a refreshment of spirit to me
to look at those two happy sisters!” Natures of this kind were a real
help in her times of depression or discouragement, though, doubtless,
none of the girls ever dreamt that one so strong could need help. Other
teachers will understand from experience this joy of whole-hearted and
sympathetic obedience from their pupils. And it is easy to measure what
this must have been to Miss Buss in those later days, when she was no
longer the energetic young teacher, sweeping every one along with her in
a rapture of devotion, but, instead, had to carry, in addition to her
own inevitable burdens, all the cares of her wide public work.
It may be a direct result of public-school life, assimilating the modern
girl to her schoolboy brother, but certainly it is to be observed that
the High-school girl rarely seems to have that power of expressing her
feelings which made her mother or grandmother so much easier in all
social relations. It is more than probable that, in thus growing like
the typical “schoolboy,” she may in reality feel more, and not less,
from this very habit of repression. But the fact remains that she is
more difficult of approach than the girl of other days.
With special cases quite individual in their nature, Miss Buss was
rarely known to fail. As one of her staff observes—
“the way in which she managed difficult and obstinate pupils was
marvellous. She would spend hours with them, and never thought
the time wasted if at last she made the slightest impression.
Often, when this did not appear on the surface, it was shown
weeks, months, or even years after, by some little note or
message.”
In thanking a young friend for some proof of affection there is a
pathetic little appeal—
“You _young_ people can form no idea—till your time comes—of how
much pain a little indifference can inflict, especially when
both the old and the young have warm hearts. My life needs close
love from some one—I have given a large amount of mine to some
one—and when he not only responds, but initiates loving remarks
or caresses, he fills the old person’s heart with warmth,
brightness, and love.”
On some few occasions, when more than usually overdone, I have heard
Miss Buss admit with a weary sigh that she found the girls of the last
decade of her work so much less easy to influence than those of the
first; since, even when they were inwardly touched, they seemed unable
to show it after the old fashion.
“_Autres temps, autres mœurs._” But yet, making all due allowance, if
these “difficult” girls could have seen this friend after one of the
encounters so terrible to her, and have realized how spent and
heart-sick she was, they must have taken less pride in their defiance or
hardness. She cared for them so deeply that it was real anguish of soul
to her to think of the future sorrows inevitable for tempers
undisciplined and wills unsubdued.
With this question of the influence on manners of the public school
comes what does seem a real objection to the new development—an
objection most strongly felt by those who look farthest back. With her
invariable point and terseness, Miss Cobbe thus puts this matter in a
nutshell—
“William of Wykeham’s motto: ‘Manners makyth Manne,’ was
understood to hold good emphatically concerning the making of
Woman. The abrupt-speaking, courtesy-neglecting, slouching,
slangy young damsel, who may now perhaps carry off the glories
of a University degree, would then have seemed still needing to
be taught the very rudiments of feminine knowledge. When I
recall the type of perfect womanly gentleness and high breeding
which then and there was formed, it seems to me as if, in
comparison, modern manners are all rough and brusque. We have
graceful women in abundance still, but the peculiar,
old-fashioned suavity, the tact which made every one in a
company happy and at ease—most of all, the humblest individual
present—and which at the same time, effectually prevented the
most audacious from transgressing _les bienséances_ by a hair;
of that suavity and tact we seem to have lost the tradition.”
But Miss Buss had always faith enough in the future to regard the modern
roughness as merely a transitional stage, and as the outcome, in the
first place, of the higher standard of morals which places _fact_ before
_seeming_. The perfect outward grace of the courtly days did not always
imply corresponding grace within. When these first days of reaction
shall pass, and a really wide and high culture shall have become
general, we may expect the development of a new gracefulness which shall
be the genuine outcome of a truly gracious spirit.
“For manners are not idle, but the fruit
Of loyal nature, and of noble mind.”
In the very early days at Myra, the rules were few and simple, and the
girls were trusted to do the right for love of it. Miss Buss believed in
the force of a strong public opinion which should put all wrong-doing in
its true light as hurtful to the community; and she considered it the
chief advantage of a large public school that a strong feeling for the
right should prevail, and, by its very force, put down all that was base
or ignoble.
It was a grief to her to make new rules, and I can recall her sorrow, on
several occasions, when it became necessary to add to those already
existing—in every case as the result of some act on the part of a
selfish minority, who thus imposed additional burdens on the obedient
majority.
Miss Fawcett, who had long experience at Myra, and Miss Edwards, who
followed her there, speak very strongly about the thoughtful care which
in all cases aimed at preventing possible dangers. Girls whose influence
might be hurtful to each other were placed in rooms remote; and the
sitting-rooms were made attractive, and thus kept the pupils to some
extent under constant supervision.
In Miss Buss’ letters during the holidays there are many proofs of this
thoughtfulness. She writes to Miss Fawcett—
“Of these two I know nothing—morally, I mean. But A. ought to be
kept if possible from B., and also from C. and D.; the former
cannot manage her, and the latter gives in, perhaps, to her.
Would it do for her to take F.’s bed, in G.’s room? It requires
consideration.”
This consideration reached all round. Another long letter goes into
arrangements for Miss Fawcett’s own relief from some of the care, each
detail being worked out with the utmost exactness.
Or again—
“Can you invite X. to visit you on the half-term holiday, or, if
possible, from Friday or Saturday before? I fear she may be
asked to two places where I do not wish her to go just now. She
is not easy to manage, and her companions are of great
importance; and yet it is difficult for me to decline
invitations when the reason cannot be explained.
“If you do not much mind, I will not send the three girls on
Sunday until six o’clock, when they will be in time for service,
unless it is raining.
“But _I_ give up an hour or rather more to the girls on Sunday
afternoons, and have been obliged, since that difficulty last
year, to refuse to let them out on Sundays, except at the
half-term. If by any chance a girl goes out in the morning, I
expect her back to tea. They can go out on Saturday afternoons
occasionally.”
Here is a note after the great explosion in Regent’s Park, on October
2nd, 1874—
“I hope nothing worse than broken glass has happened at your
house in consequence of the terrible shock this morning.
Thirteen of my windows are shattered, but I am too thankful for
the preservation of the young inmates of my house to mind
anything.
“My first thought was that the stack of chimneys had blown down,
and, in falling, had crushed the roof in on the beds of Mary and
Ethel P—— and Edith A——. The noise seemed to come from that
quarter. In an instant I was upstairs, to ascertain if they were
safe.
“I find myself even now shaking from the shock to the nervous
system. My girls behaved admirably. They were all quiet.”
From the early days to the latest Miss Buss gave short addresses weekly
on some moral text, choosing frequently some recent story of great deed
or high thought, and making it interesting as she brought it to bear on
the daily life of the girls. As one of the staff remarks—
“The high moral tone of the school was materially helped by
these weekly addresses. Four forms met her in the Lecture Hall,
and teachers and pupils listened to her wise counsel. One of her
favourite texts was the life of Dorothy Wordsworth, as she
earnestly pleaded with the girls, above all things, to aim at
being true women, and not to let their school-work in any way
interfere with their home duties, never forgetting that they
must bring either sunshine or cloud into the home-life.”
Here is a little sketch of the Sunday talks at Myra—
“I love to picture that drawing-room, Miss Buss to the left of
the fire, her lamp on the table at her right, and the girls
grouped around her at the fire, often some at her feet.... I
never heard any one read as she did, and especially on those
Sundays! Every word told. And then she would pause, and send
some truth home by an illustration from her own experience....
After the holidays, she was generally full of some new thought:
Mrs. Norton’s ‘Lady of La Garaye’ was brought after a happy
holiday at Dinan.... She spent hours in the preparation of the
Myra and school addresses, a testimony to the stress she laid on
their importance.”
There are some pretty little glimpses of the inner life at Myra, given
by a pupil who spent there a somewhat prolonged school-life, in which
she came into very close relation to the beloved teacher—
“My earliest recollection of Miss Buss was when I went in for
the entrance exam.; in a state of great trepidation, I
accompanied her along the corridor to take off my things, and I
think she saw my poor fingers shaking, for she suddenly took me
in her warm embrace, and said, ‘Do your best, my dear child, and
you must leave the rest,’ and then, looking me in the face, with
another kiss, she said, ‘I _think_ we are going to be friends.’
And the radiant smile that accompanied the kiss won my heart and
banished my fears.
“I had been at Myra Lodge only a few weeks when, one of the
girls having acted contrary to regulations, a warm discussion on
her conduct took place in the playroom downstairs, some
defending and some disapproving of her conduct. We were quite
unaware that in the heat of discussion our voices were loud
enough to be heard upstairs; it was a point on which I felt
strongly, and I expressed myself somewhat emphatically for a
new-comer. The next day Miss Buss sent for me, said she knew of
the incident, and ‘you said so-and-so, my child; I am delighted
to think you feel in that way, you were on the right side, and
remember, dear, I shall always _expect_ to find you on the right
side.’ How often that belief in my being ‘on the right side’
helped me to make the struggle for the right only _I_ can tell!”
The same writer gives a glimpse of the brightest side of the relation
between the head and her Myra girls—
“Miss Buss would often come round and see we were quite
comfortable in our beds, and give us a maternal ‘tuck-up.’ One
morning at breakfast she came behind my chair, and, turning my
chin up with her hand to look in my face, said with laughing
voice and eye—
“‘Well, did I cheat you last night?’
“A vision of a figure in red dressing-gown tucking me up and
kissing me sprang into my mind, and I said—
“‘Oh, I remember; I thought it was mother.’
“And, whispering to me, she said, as she kissed me, ‘I thought
so, dear; you gave me such a hug, you sent me so happy to bed!’”
And this, again, from another old pupil, is equally attractive—
“Never shall I forget her kindness when confined to my room at
Myra by illness. It was the bright spot in my day when Miss Buss
appeared in the evening to tuck me up in bed, and wish me good
night. More than once she was on her way to some dinner or
meeting, and wore a blue _moiré_, which I thought singularly
becoming. Her smile, peculiarly sweet, piquant, and gracious,
lighted up my long, dull hours, and lingers with me still.
“There was something so large and unfluctuating about her that
one felt one could trust her with and through everything.”
An apparently harmless bit of nonsense brought about another episode
which deeply impressed the girl who tells it—
“Miss Buss was in her little room. In her kindest way she held
out her hand to me and said—
“‘Dear child, I want to talk to you; did you write that?’
producing the book.
“‘Oh yes,’ I laughed, ‘just to tease Louie!’
“I shall never forget the way in which she drew me to her, put
my head on her shoulder, and then talked to me. She pointed out
that the offence in itself was not a serious one, but that the
jesting with a subject so serious as Love was one that no girl
should indulge in; and then followed the most beautiful little
picture of what true earthly love might be, that makes me glow
to think of now, and she urged me never to trifle with the
subject in any form, reserving all my ‘best’ for the one who was
to give me ‘what is God’s best gift on earth, dear, the love of
a good man, such as the love your father and mother have, and
such as I hope He may give you.’ How glad I am to think she
_knew_ I have received that gift!”
It must indeed have been a joy to this happy young wife to be able often
to brighten the later days of the solitary worker, whom she mourns now
with tender and grateful remembrance in words that find far echoes—
“You know my deep affection, I may truly say veneration, for the
dear one, and I feel as if one of my very nearest had gone. I
look on it as one of the greatest privileges of my life to have
lived in such close contact with her for so many years. Dear,
dear Miss Buss, what an inspiration she has been, and what a
responsibility rests with us to carry out what she has always
taught us as the ideal of life! Her influence in the world is
untold; and I am sure many are the lives she has influenced in
critical times when the thought of what _she_ would do, or would
wish, has turned the scale in the right direction.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
THE GYMNASIUM, NORTH LONDON COLLEGIATE SCHOOL FOR GIRLS.
]
CHAPTER VIII.
EARLY EDUCATIONAL IDEALS.
“The vocation of a teacher is an awful one. You cannot do her
real good; she will do others unspeakable harm if she is not
aware of its awfulness. Merely to supply her with necessaries,
merely to assist her in procuring them for herself—though that
is far better, because in so doing you awaken energy of
character, reflection, providence—is not fitting her for her
work; you may confirm her in the notion that the training an
immortal spirit may be just as lawfully undertaken in a case of
emergency as that of selling ribbons? How can you give a woman
self-respect, how can you win for her the respect of others, in
whom such a notion, or any modification of it dwells? Your
business is, by all means, to dispossess her of it; to make her
feel the greatness of her work, and yet show her that it can be
honestly performed.”—F. D. MAURICE, Lecture on opening Queen’s
College.
It is always of interest to compare dreams with deeds, the ideal with
the actual. And this we are enabled to do with regard to Miss Buss’
educational ideals, since we have first her own words at different
stages in her work, before any change was made, as well as during the
time of transition; and afterwards, from a keen observer, we have a
summary of results, and see how the dream had become fact, how the aim
was attained.
There is very little of Miss Buss’ writing to be found in print. But we
have one letter written, in 1868, to a lady in Otago, and published in a
colonial paper, which gives us her ideas and her aims for future work
just before the great change.
“North London Collegiate School for Ladies,
“12, Camden Street,
“Nov. 13, 1868.
“DEAR MADAM,
“I have read with much pleasure your interesting account
of the progress of education in your colony. You will soon leave
the old country behind if you go so rapidly. There is much to be
done before it can be said that England has a great national
system of education....
“Lord Lyttelton has taken a deep interest in education, and has
especially devoted himself to the consideration of the question
in relation to girls. If you have not seen it, I recommend to
your notice the Report of the Schools Inquiry Commission
presented to the Imperial Parliament at the beginning of this
year. It forms the first of a series of twenty-one Blue books,
all of which are interesting for all who care for middle-class
education. The chapter on the education of girls was, I believe,
written by Lord Lyttelton.
“The school of which I am head-mistress was opened eighteen
years ago, under the immediate patronage of the local clergy.
The girls’ school followed almost immediately the opening of a
boys’ school, which has numbered about four hundred for some
years past. Both schools have from the first been entirely
self-supporting. The girls have, however, outgrown their
accommodation in two good-sized houses, but will, I trust, in
time be located in a suitable building. The schools have always
been conducted on what is here called the ‘conscience clause’;
that is, the parents have the right of omitting the Church of
England Catechism or any part of the religious teaching they
object to. Even Jewesses[9] have received their whole education
in the school.
“The routine of English has been considerably improved by the
extension to girls’ schools of the Cambridge Local Examinations.
It is impossible, I think, to overrate the good already done in
girls’ schools by these examinations. A definite standard is
given, there is no undue publicity, but schools are able to
measure their teaching by the opinions of unknown and,
therefore, impartial examiners.
“I cannot, of course, judge of the wants of a new colony, but my
experience goes to show that it is better to include in the
routine of study all the necessary branches, and I think a
second language is one. It is almost impossible to teach English
well unless another language is studied with it, and that other
language should be Latin, or French, or German. Of course I do
not say that this should be taught in the elementary stages, but
I should not allow parents to have the power of stopping the
teaching on the ground of extra expense.
“We teach French, really, I think, allowing no option. Latin
also in the higher classes, with little or no option, except in
the case of delicate girls.
“After my many years of work, if I were now to found a school
for what might be called the middle section (and, indeed, the
upper section also) of the middle-class, I should include all
that I have mentioned, viz. English thoroughly, with Elementary
Science in courses such as I have alluded to, French, Latin,
bold outline drawing, careful part singing, _plain_ needlework,
and thorough arithmetic, with geometry and algebra in the higher
classes. I would rigidly and entirely omit all arrangements for
teaching instrumental music, which I believe to be the bane of
girls’ schools, in the time wasted and the expense entailed. I
have omitted, I see, harmony, by which I mean the laws of
musical construction, an interesting, and, in an educational
point of view, a most useful subject for mental training.
Instrumental music—the piano chiefly—might fairly be left to a
private teacher, as might dancing also. In Germany, I think,
instrumental music is never taught in the _Tochter Schule_, but
is always left to private teaching.
“No school ought to omit _physical training_—that is,
Calisthenics, or something equivalent. This we have of late
enforced among the elder girls. Our system, an American idea,
called Musical Gymnastics, is excellent. Easy, graceful, and not
too fatiguing, gently calling every part of the body into play
by bright spirited music, which cultivates rhythm of movement,
it has become popular, and has wonderfully improved the figure
and carriage of the girls. Our exercises last from twenty
minutes to half an hour almost daily—as much as we can manage,
always four days out of five.”
Footnote 9:
A letter from an old Jewish pupil, in the _Jewish Chronicle_, is full
of deepest regret for her loss, giving many instances of special
kindnesses received by the writer. “She was so strictly just that she
gave every consideration to the first Jewish pupil who wished to
participate in the honours not then open to Jews, acknowledging to
that same pupil in after years that she gave the consideration in
justice only, for, if anything, she was slightly prejudiced against a
race she had only read about and not known.”
Miss Buss then goes on to explain fully her ideal of what the education
of girls should be, giving her preference for “large day schools, with
all the life and discipline that numbers only can give; not to speak of
the greater efficiency and cheapness of the teaching.” She thinks that
“our young women are narrowed sadly by want of the sympathy, large
experience, and right self-estimation which only mixing with numbers
gives.” She sees that the head of the school should be a woman, “left
free to work the school, on certain conditions, without a committee of
management.” The buildings, of course, “should be vested in a body of
trustees, of which some should be women.”
It has sometimes been urged as a reproach that Miss Buss employed
women-teachers in preference to men. That she employed women wherever it
was possible is certain, because she considered teaching a legitimate
occupation for women, and set herself to fit them for the work. That
women _could_ teach, she knew from her own experience. That they should
teach better in the future than they had ever done in the past was one
of her steady aims, and one that she attained.
Here is a strong expression of her feeling when she first read the
report of the Edinburgh Merchants’ Company’s Schools, in 1872—
“The report is interesting, but I absolutely burn with
indignation (does not my atrocious handwriting bear witness to
it?) at the bare notion of _men_ teachers in the upper girls’
schools. It is shameful, costly (because some poor drudge of a
woman must accept starvation pay, in order to maintain decorum
by being present at every master’s lesson), and it is degrading
to women’s education. How can girls value it, when they see that
no amount of it will make a woman fit to teach them, except as
infants.
“Don’t be frightened, I feel well and even amiable, though I am
in a great hurry, and my hand aches.”
Her own deliberate opinion on this matter is expressed in the letter to
her colonial correspondent—
“Although I advocate certain teaching being given by men to the
elder girls, it does not seem desirable that the head of a
girls’ school should be a man. There are many things in the
training of a young woman which cannot be enforced by a man, or
even by a woman whose position does not carry the weight of
authority. Women, also, teach young and ignorant children better
than men, their patience and sympathy being greater. On the
other hand, it is highly desirable, when girls are beyond the
drudgery of school-work, that their minds should be touched by
men. A certain fibre seems to be given by this means. At present
women’s ignorance prevents them from giving the highest kind of
teaching, but a brighter day is dawning for them I trust.”
All through her career, Miss Buss arranged for good lectures from men,
as well as from women, and the regular religious instruction was always
given by a clergyman. In early days there were courses of lectures by
Dr. Hodgson and Mr. Payne. There were lectures on literature from French
and German professors, in their own tongues. At one time the girls would
be entranced by glimpses of the starry heavens from Mr. Proctor; at
another, they were ready, _en masse_, to follow Captain Wiggins through
the perils of the Arctic seas, to Siberia. In brief, these extra
lectures included every possible subject that could tend to culture, in
history, travels, art, or social matters.
How Miss Bass advanced in educational theory is shown in extracts from
her letters in 1872, just after the private school had been made public,
and while the work of organization was still going on—
“When we are once fairly started, matters will go on more
easily. The anxiety over money will go, for instance. After next
year, the public meeting will go, I hope. Then I may devote
myself to the inside of the school.
“I want to train up girl-students in _science_; I want to teach
music grandly—thoroughly in classes—making each girl understand
what she plays, as well as if she were reading some passage of
poetry, teaching her to find out the musician’s thought; _his_
mode of expressing it; other ways of expression of the same
thought, viz. _words_. The grammar of music should be known to
every musician.
“Of course, only some girls would _fully_ benefit by this
teaching, but all who were taught would get some good. In this
last point Miss Maclean, now Mrs. G. Fraser, will help. Indeed,
she will carry out my idea thoroughly.[10] We must have a room
with four pianos to begin with, and increase to six, or eight,
if necessary.
“In science Mr. Aveling will help, and Miss Eliza Orme; but as
soon as we can get some of our girls quite ready our assistant
science teachers must come from them.
“Ah, ah, how I wish we could get a fine building for the Camden
School; we do want a lecture hall and gymnasium so much.
“If ever we have a little money, I should like the old furniture
in Camden Street to be turned to account in a still lower
school—at a shilling a week. We might work out this plan and
have two schools—not reckoning an evening one—in a room thus
used.
“Then I want to (perhaps) turn No. 202, Camden Road, into a Day
Training College for Teachers. When we have left the house, we
might give up the large room behind, and so diminish the rent.
“Of this Training or Normal College Miss Chessar could be
superintendent, without giving up her whole time. The house
would enable us to train at least a hundred students at a time,
and they must pay for their training; as much, certainly, as the
school fees would amount to.
“Our Training College should not receive _ignorant_ girls. None
should join who could not pass our examination at entrance.
“Our students should learn the history of great teachers, their
methods, etc., should learn how to teach and what to teach; how
to develop the mental, moral, and physical capacities of their
pupils (by moral I mean also spiritual). We would affiliate to
our College the National Schools, the School Boards of the
neighbourhood, and _our own_ girls’ schools, so that every
student in training should have the opportunity of seeing actual
schools in work.
“I have not mentioned this last to any one but Mr. Payne, for
several reasons, one being that I am ambitious for the cause of
education and especially for the _mixture_ of sexes; if the
College of Preceptors would take up the idea, it might be better
left to them. Our board might then rent to them our present
house. If the Preceptors _won’t_ do it, then I would urge our
board to try the question.
“Our chairman thinks this professional aspect of teaching
ridiculous. I remained silent while he was speaking, as I am
gradually growing into the idea that _teaching_ is one of the
noblest professions, not second even to medicine—one does with
the _body_, the other with the immortal _soul_!
“But one point will be to carry first the _half-time_ lower
school; no doubt the Brewers will warm to this, if I can
persuade them. This school might positively be built on _their_
estate, near Camden Street. The Danish model, I mean!”
Footnote 10:
Mrs. Fraser died within a year or so of her marriage in 1873, and Miss
Buss writes: “One sad cloud has overshadowed us—the death of my dear
old pupil and recent fellow-worker, Emma Maclean (Mrs. Fraser).... As
I write, my eyes fill with tears at the thought of that fair young
life thus early cut down.... You know how she stood at my side in all
the recent musical changes, but you cannot know what a wonderful
teacher she was. She inspired her pupils, and her power was so great
that no difficulty in managing them ever occurred. I have now to find
a successor to her; replace her I cannot.” A Musical Scholarship was
founded in memory of Mrs. Fraser.
The following letter, written by Miss Buss, appeared in the autumn of
1872:—
“SCHOOL-HOURS.
“_To the Editor of the ‘Times.’_
“SIR,—Having had the opportunity recently of becoming acquainted
with the system pursued in the Primary Schools of Sweden and
Denmark, it has occurred to me that we may learn something from
our Scandinavian neighbours with regard to the very important
question: hours of attendance.
“One great difficulty we have to face is so to arrange the hours
of school that the children shall be able to attend school and
yet find time for work.
“Throughout Denmark education is compulsory, the parents being
liable to fine and imprisonment for neglecting to send their
children to school; but the difficulty of combining school
attendance with freedom for work is met by the simple plan of
holding school twice a day for different sets of children. Five
hours being the required school attendance, one set of children
attend from 8 o’clock to 1, with an interval for recreation at
11, and another set from 1 to 6 o’clock, also with a short
interval.
“The parents are free to choose between the morning and
afternoon school, according to the work the children have to do.
In the first case, the children can work after 1 o’clock; in the
second, until that hour.
“This plan has also another advantage—it enables 2000 children
to be taught in a school-house built and fitted for 1000, and
this without in the least interfering with evening teaching.
This is an important economical question.
“One superintendent is sufficient for both schools, as he is not
expected to teach more than 18 hours a week. He has a staff of
assistants, some of whom are visiting teachers only, for special
subjects, such as gymnastics, singing, etc. Elementary teachers
are compelled to teach 36 hours a week, and may, if they wish,
earn extra payment by extra teaching to the extent of 42 hours.
The time-tables of the schools are so arranged that three sets
of teachers can thoroughly manage four schools.
“Would not the adoption of some such plan, modified to suit
local cases, clear away some of our difficulties? A _maximum_
attendance of four hours daily, from 8.30 to 12.30, and from 1
to 5 o’clock, would, perhaps, be better suited to London, with
one day’s holiday in a fortnight.
“The system appears to work well in Denmark, and to produce the
desired results. The children attend school 30 hours a week. A
diminution of the school-hours would still secure 24 hours a
week for each school; but questions of detail must, of course,
depend on local conditions. I merely wish to call attention to
the possible solution of one, at least, of our difficulties.
“A PRACTICAL TEACHER.”
This last dream never came true. But the advance in the elementary
schools met all need of this kind. The higher Board Schools form now the
connecting-link with the Camden School.
It may be of interest here to show how Miss Buss carried out her thought
about the Camden School, now housed as nobly as she could have desired.
From Miss Elford, the first head-mistress of the Camden School, as well
as from her successor, there are touching notices of their relations
with the founder of their school—
“Miss Buss had long felt the need of such a school, and for her
to feel the need was for her to leave nothing undone until the
need was supplied. It was as far back as the summer of 1868,
when Miss Buss intimated to me—an old pupil—that in all
probability a school would be founded in connection with her
school, the fees of which would be four guineas a year. And
would I like to be its head-mistress! The lowness of the fees
rather alarmed me; but without hesitation, in full confidence of
the success that must attend any scheme she took up, I said yes!
“Foresight and forethought were two of Miss Buss’ many and great
qualifications. I have frequently heard old girls say, ‘If Miss
Buss told me to do a thing of which I could not quite see the
advisability, I should do it, knowing that she could see the
necessity for it, and the good that would result from it, for
she never makes a mistake.’
“The Camden School for Girls, however, was not started until
January, 1871, in the old school-houses, Nos. 12 and 14, Camden
Street, which had been until that time occupied by the North
London Collegiate School. It began with the head-mistress and
Miss Buss as superintendent, and was opened with 45 pupils on
the first day, January 16, 1871; 78 entered during the first
term, and the first year closed with 192 pupils.
“Miss Buss, deeply interested in its success, watched carefully
its progress, and entered fully into the whole working of the
school. In the early days, the curriculum of work was entirely
under her supervision. She had the power of making others
capable of carrying out her suggestions, and of making them
realize their own ability. The teaching was precisely on the
same lines as those for girls of the same age in the North
London Collegiate. The visits of Miss Buss to the school were
frequent, sometimes she came alone, sometimes with visitors; but
Thursday afternoons, for several years, were specially set apart
for work with us. She would visit every class, and, for the
first year or two, knew most of the girls, encouraging some,
stimulating others. All were so glad of her kind word. Her dress
was pulled timidly by a little child to obtain the desired
smile.
“Thursday thus became the red-letter day of the week. No
question ever arose but she might be depended on for the wisest
solution of the difficulty.
“The need for the school soon spoke for itself, for at the end
of the second year, 1872, there were 331 pupils. And in January,
1873, as many as fifty were unable to be admitted. Girls from
all parts of London, north, south, east, and west, were
anxiously waiting to come in; for at this time there existed no
Polytechnic day schools, nor middle schools for girls. The
enthusiasm to enter was so great that one case may be mentioned
of a little girl and her mother, who hearing that there were so
many new ones applying, got up at six o’clock in the morning to
catch the first train from Acton ‘to be in time.’ Alas! there
was no vacancy.
“In 1871, seven pupils passed the College of Preceptors’
Examination in the lowest class. In 1872, seven passed the
Junior Cambridge Local, and 17 the College of Preceptors’. This
would be but little now, but Miss Buss said, let them feel they
can do something, or, as she so often said, ‘Aim high, and you
will strike high.’
“The numbers increased so rapidly, now being 390, that a third
house, No. 18, Camden Street, was taken and adapted, and no
other change was made until May, 1878, when the school moved to
the new buildings in the Prince of Wales Road, Kentish Town, of
which the foundation-stone was laid by Miss Buss. The numbers
had reached 420, with generally 90 or 100 waiting admission.”
The present head-mistress of the Camden School, Miss Lawford, is also
good enough to give some details of more recent date—
“My recollections of Miss Buss begin with my school-days, and
with the very earliest of them. It was to the North London
Collegiate School for ‘Ladies,’ as it was then called, that I
was sent, after a very short experience of school-life
elsewhere.
“But when the time came to take up work as head of the Camden
School, how greatly was my responsibility lightened by the sound
advice and help which she gave me. I remember one case of more
than usual difficulty which caused me considerable anxiety, and
in which a false step might have given me and the school an
unpleasant notoriety. I took the matter to her, she seized the
point at once, was quite clear as to the action to be taken, and
the whole affair ended happily. The clearness of her intellect
and the facility with which she grasped a situation were salient
traits in her character.
“The tie which connects her with the Camden School as its
founder is one which we are proud to remember. She took the
keenest interest in all its work, and in all her visits (she)
always had a word for any girls who had distinguished
themselves, or who were connected in any way with old friends
and pupils of her own. We always looked for her on red-letter
days such as Prize Day and Founder’s Day. On one of these latter
she gave us a lecture on Lady Jane Grey which we specially
valued. On these occasions so many friends wanted her at the
North London Collegiate School that it was not often she could
spare more time than to go round the gymnasium and the
schoolrooms, and to speak a few gratifying words to the girls.
She often invited the upper part of the school to lectures at
the North London Collegiate School; one much enjoyed by them, ‘A
Trip to Sunshine in December,’ gave an account of a Christmas
holiday spent in the Riviera. She remembered us in other
substantial ways. The splendid photograph of the Colosseum which
decorates one of our rooms was brought by her from Italy. The
lending library was partly started by a sum given by her for the
purpose. The building of the gymnasium and the introduction of
trained teachers for physical exercise was her initiative.
“What one feels more especially about Miss Buss is her utter
sincerity. Whether she was helping you in a difficulty or
promoting some great educational movement you felt she did it
without thought of self. There was no touch of the little mind
about her, no thought of adding to her own prestige. She spent
her life in the cause of education with loyalty and
single-hearted devotion. It was the happy lot of some of us to
be associated with her in her work. We have indeed lost a friend
whose greatness of mind and purpose ever stimulated us. We can
only be thankful for the privilege which has been ours, and seek
to carry out the high aims which she set before us.”
We know now—a quarter of a century after—what has been achieved by this
great worker whose life remains as an inspiration for the times to come.
What she aspired to may be best given in her own self-estimate in those
early days.
I had sent her an account of a great spiritual work done by Mary Lyon, a
distinguished American teacher, and received in acknowledgment the
following note:—
“July, 1871.
“DEAR MISS RIDLEY,
“I have read Mary Lyon’s ‘Training School.’ In the past I
have often had visions of such, or similar work, but as life has
grown out upon me I have seen these higher hopes and aspirations
fade a good deal. Still, I recognize many blessings and some
usefulness in my life. It has not been a wasted or misused one.
One must do what one can, and leave the issue to Him who guides
all things right.
“Yours affectionately,
“FRANCES M. BUSS.”
From this modest self-appraisement I turn now to the thick volumes—six
of them, almost all in her own handwriting—notes of the addresses she
gave in school and at Myra, embracing every topic—moral and
religious—that touches a girl’s life.[11] How they affected the girls
who heard them letter after letter tells; and we, not so favoured, may
imagine what they must have been, given in that clear impressive voice,
as the results of most careful thought, and brightened by anecdote and
illustration, gathered in these note-books, from everyday life and from
past history. What is most striking in these notes is not merely an
observation which let nothing slip, but the wise selection of a varied
culture and extensive reading amounting to high scholarship. And as we
remember that this work was all done amid the pressure of daily
teaching, through all the long struggle of the establishment of the new
schools, and then amidst the whirl of public life, we scarcely can tell
where lies the greatest wonder—in the work itself, or in the humility
which could include it all in those simple words: “but one must do what
one can!”
Footnote 11:
A selection from these “Notes” is being prepared for the use of
teachers by Miss Toplis, and will shortly be published by Messrs.
Macmillan and Co.
It is easy, after going through these notes, to be sure of the secret of
her great influence. It is teaching that goes straight to the point
because it comes straight from the heart of the teacher, whose happy
pupils had good reason to say, “What before may have been only words to
us then became facts. She was not so much a teacher as an inspiration!”
How these earlier ideals stood the test of time we may read in a record
given a quarter of a century later by the colleague who best knew her
work of “Education as known in the North London Collegiate School for
Girls.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
NORTH LONDON COLLEGIATE SCHOOL FOR GIRLS.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER IX.
PRACTICAL WORK.
“No one who has been brought into contact with Miss Buss, no one
who has even seen her portrait, can have failed to be struck by
her transparent integrity, her absolute sincerity, her
single-mindedness of purpose. However much one might differ from
her on a question of policy, one felt certain that the judgment
was never warped by personal bias, that it was never prompted by
ambition or jealousy, or any vulgar motive.... As an organizer
she was unrivalled.”—_Journal of Education_, January, 1895.
The summary of Miss Buss’ practical work, for which I am so deeply
indebted to Mrs. Bryant, is best given in her own words, with merely an
interpolation illustrating that law of order on which these schools are
so firmly based.
* * * * *
Mrs. Bryant begins with an important reminder—
“Teachers are not inapt to forget that the most important factor in
education is the personality of the learner. The next most important is
the personality of the teacher. So far as others make our education for
us, the mind of the educator is more important by far than his method.
And this is the more true the greater the teacher.
“Of Frances Mary Buss this was specially true, so much was intuition and
sympathy in the concrete inwoven with her thoughts on the educational
ideal. The ideal of her action was an emanation of her nature as a
whole, not a pure product of thought. She could have told many things
about it, but she could not tell it all. Her vision was wide, but her
wisdom was wider. Hence there never was any danger that her mind would
harden into a net of secondary principles in the solution of any
individual problem. Practical questions were always unique, each one in
itself, to her; and, rapid as she was in action, she could give time to
deliberation and careful thought.
“To understand, therefore, the ideal of education under which so much
good work has been done, we need to understand, not a theory true once
for all, but the type of mind that is creative of right ideas as
occasion requires. Nor is a subtle delineation of character needed here.
The leading features are well marked, and a brief sketch may give the
clearest conception.
“Breadth and elasticity of imagination, indomitable energy of will,
boundless faith, unwearied sympathy—these are the great facts of
character which lie behind her work and mark its ideals. They are all
very obvious facts, but the first named, in the nature of the case,
though the rarest and most remarkable, is the easiest to miss in its
full significance. One clear mark of it is the memory she has left with
each of her friends, of being interested specially in that phase of
thought and work which she shared with them. The effect of it on her
educational work was that extraordinary catholicity of view which
distinguished her, and through her has influenced in many ways the
theory of the girls’ school, and the tone of the educational question in
the days which follow her.
“One phase of this catholic way of looking at things was her insistence,
always very emphatic, on the idea that school and the teacher have to do
in some way or other with the whole of life. She would not allow it to
be supposed that any condition of the well-being and good growth of her
pupils was no concern of hers. I do not mean that she at all denied the
function of the home in education. On the contrary, she attached the
greatest weight to it, but she held that whether the home did its duty
or not it was the business of the school to aim at supplying conditions
essential for the development of the pupil on all sides—to hold itself
responsible for failure even when fathers and mothers had neglected
their part. When parents were wrong-headed, or negligent, or mistaken,
then it seemed natural to her to set about educating them. Many mothers
learned priceless lessons of wisdom from her in the pleasant audiences
of her “Blue room” at school; and few, I think, were ungrateful for
them. She was full of ready resource in cases of difficulty, and she
ever held that the moral was much more essentially her business than the
intellectual salvation. When there was trouble with a girl, she gave
herself to its cure with the most absolute self-devotion, and one great
remedy was to send for the mother, to take counsel with her, and to give
her counsel. In all matters of behaviour, such as foolish talk and
unladylike—or shall I not rather say unwomanly—conduct she was strict
and vigilant. Such things never escaped her, and her manner of dealing
with them individually has made an epoch in the life of many a girl, the
transition from an irreverent to a reverent state of feeling for social
relationships.
“We are of course all familiar with the view that education is
threefold, that it concerns itself with moral, intellectual, and
physical welfare. But there was a strength and elasticity in Miss Buss’
feeling about school education as all-embracing that marked it as more
than the consequence of a view. Each girl was a clearly imagined whole
to her, with whose deficiencies and needs she had the mother’s no less
than the teacher’s sympathy. She was wonderfully patient, and
sympathetic, too, with foolish mothers, of whom there are some. She had
a kind word and thought for ‘fads,’ strenuously as she resisted them.
Forty years—thirty years—ago, the ‘fads’ that had to be resisted were
many indeed.
“So she taught us, her teachers, the duty of infinite pains, infinite
hope in the training of character. She never gave a girl up as hopeless.
If one way failed, then another must be found. She had great belief—a
belief well justified by facts—in the salvation of character by way of
the rousing of intellectual interests. It was curious to note how a
naughty girl improved if she grew to like her lessons. Naughtiness is
often unsteadiness of will, and intellectual discipline is a steadying
influence. Irrationality, moreover, is the cause of much moral evil, and
thoughtful study makes for rationality. It may be—I am much disposed to
think it is—that intellectual training effects greater moral improvement
in women than it does in men, because a woman’s faults of character, on
an average, turn more on irrationality and lack of nerve control, while
the man’s faults centre in his profounder self-absorption and slower
sympathies.
“Character as the prime aim of education soon became the key-note of the
North London practice. It fell in with this that great attention should
be paid to punctuality, accuracy, order, method, and the cultivation of
the clerkly business abilities generally. Nor should we forget that
simple quality of respect for property, so despised of boys, on which
the head-mistress laid much stress as essential for girls, and, indeed,
a part of honesty. In very early days, girls spilt ink on their dresses,
so ink ceased to be part of the regular school furniture, and is only
given out when required, e.g. for examinations, by the mistress in
charge of the form. It is part of the tradition of the place—a tradition
that will now be a tender memory—that the giving out of the ink is a
serious responsible act, the weight of which should never be thrown on a
monitor or even a prefect. The spilling of the ink is an evil so great
that its risk should be laid only on the shoulders of authority. But,
seriously, this is symbolic of the leading idea that the duty of taking
proper care of the furniture should be taught at school as well as at
home.
“Nobody but a school-mistress—except, indeed, a schoolmaster—knows to
what depths of disorder the youthful mind may descend in writing out its
lessons. I remember how it astonished me when, even at the North London
Collegiate School, the original sin of literary untidiness caused itself
to be seen. Well, from the beginning, serious war was made upon
irregularities and disorder of this kind, a whole system of school
routine growing up in consequence, much of which has become general in
girls’ schools.”
* * * * *
“Order, Heaven’s first law,” was certainly the first law of school-life.
The place was duly provided, and everything had to be in its place, an
arrangement greatly helped by the Swedish desks—one for each girl, of
suitable size—which Miss Buss was the first to introduce into England.
Wherever Miss Buss’ influence reached, order reigned. Everything bore
witness to her power of organization, and everything throughout the
place, down to the work of the lowest servant, was arranged by the head
who said of herself, “I spend my life in picking up pins!”
The highest illustration of this quality comes in the story of Lord
Granville’s admiration of the perfect arrangements on the Prize Day when
he was in the chair. He could not forget it, and spoke of it to Dr.
Carpenter, in reference to the giving of Degrees at Burlington House.
Dr. Carpenter wrote to Miss Buss to ask her secret, and in reply she
went herself to Burlington House and discussed with him all the
arrangements, which consequently went off in perfect order.
No girl in either school, who had been long enough to enter into the
spirit of the place, will ever during the longest life be able to look
with indifference on an ink-spot, or to suppress a feeling of lofty
superiority, if she ever has occasion to pass through a boys’ school,
and cast a glance at desks or floors there. And few will be able to read
without a sympathetic smile or sigh a little narrative of one of their
number showing what came of inadvertence on this point—
“One of the direst days in the whole of my school experience was
the day I spilt the ink.
“The accident happened on a Friday, and, since the event, Black
Friday has altered its position on the calendar, as far as I am
concerned.
“The terrible meaning the words ‘spilt ink’ convey to the mind
can only be understood by those who know how dearly Miss Buss
cherished the bright appearance of our beautiful school, and how
she strove to raise a similar feeling in us by occasionally
comparing its appearance with that of other public schools
(especially boys’), and by having every spot and stain forcibly
eradicated as soon as incurred.
“This accident happened one Friday morning just before prayers,
and was not confined to a single spot, but included the contents
of a large well-inkstand provokingly full.
“Hurrying past the form-table on hearing the hall bell, a long
protruding pen caught in a fold of my dress, the whole apparatus
swung steadily round and fell on the floor with a hideous
splash. There was only time to pick up the stand and pen, the
ink, alas! was foolishly left to soak steadily into the
stainless floor.
“That morning our bright little service seemed interminably
long, and several notices delayed the filing off of the classes
as speedily as usual.
“I was the first to re-enter our room, in which Fraülein stood
alone gazing at the catastrophe.
“I told her I was the culprit, and mumbled out something about
‘telling Miss Buss.’
“Her smile and quiet remark, ‘She vill not vant much telling,’
were hardly reassuring.
“Fraülein was quite right; Miss Buss did not want any telling,
the evidence in black and white was quite sufficient. She never
scolded me for the accident, but was vexed at my not having
informed the housekeeper immediately, instead of allowing the
ink to soak comfortably in for twenty minutes.
“After a little chat about ‘Presence of Mind,’ I was told to
repair the mischief, and attempt to get the stain out.
“There was no German for me that morning. The time was occupied
in scrubbing the floor with lemons. During the day several
helped, even teachers kindly lending a hand, but all our efforts
were futile, and the ink obstinately refused to move.
“Later on, oxalic acid came into play, Miss Buss personally
superintending the performance, and being really anxious in case
any of the poison should perchance cling to my fingers.
“All to no good! On Monday the room was to be used by the
Cambridge examiners, and, as a last resource, the carpenter and
his plane were imperatively summoned.
“So ended Black Friday!
“I had bought my experience in the ways of inkstands, a thorough
knowledge of eradicating stains, and a life-long lesson to act
more decisively, paying in return a bill, the items of which ran
thus: the cost of lemons, oxalic acid, and the carpenter; lost
marks, a signature in the defaulters’ book, and the most
miserable day of my school experience.”
Mrs. Bryant continues—
“In the wholeness of the founders view of her work, not character and
intellect only, but physical welfare no less belonged to the school aim.
Always, in some form or another, she had this in mind. The most
punctilious care was taken from the first as regards sanitary conditions
and precautions for wet days. Shoes had always to be changed, and
contrivances for keeping the rest of the clothing dry—by umbrellas,
cloaks, and common sense—were part of the moral order of the place. In
other words, it was treated as a breach of the regulations if a pupil
came into school with her dress wet. The result was, and is, that the
girls manage to keep astonishingly dry. Like other sources of evil, this
one has, in the course of years, tended naturally to decrease, because
girls are more sensibly dressed than they were twenty, ten, or even five
years ago. It is an amusing symptom of the hygienic influence of the
North London School that, in my quest for properly shaped shoes, I find
it best to fall back on the neighbourhood of Camden Road.
“The idea of regular physical education was early expressed in the
institution of calisthenic exercises for a quarter of an hour after the
light lunch in the middle of the morning. The idea grew and became more
systematic as opportunity made its development possible. When the new
buildings were opened, a splendid gymnasium had been provided for the
purpose. Every girl was to have a systematic course of physical training
by means of two half-hour lessons in the week from a regularly trained
teacher, besides the ordinary drill on the other three days. But there
might be abnormal girls who required more or less a special treatment,
and, reflecting on this fact, there arose in Miss Buss’ mind the idea
that the physical education ought, as of course, to be under medical
supervision. This implied that all the pupils should be medically
inspected, and it goes without saying that, to her mind, the medical
inspector should be a woman.
“For some years this post has been held by Miss Julia Cock, M.D., who
has carried out a system of observation, and record sufficient for the
purpose, but not extending to anything like medical attendance.
“The first and essential object was to determine what kind of physical
exercise was required in each case. The normal girl, and the majority of
those even with defects, would be sent to go through the usual course.
For defects, special treatment by exercise would be ordered, and this
given in the afternoon. Three afternoons in the week the gymnasium is
occupied by these special gymnastic classes, and the record of physical
improvement made is worthy perhaps of even more praise than the roll of
examination honours won by the intellectually able. The girls who do
best with much rest and little exercise are also found out and dealt
with accordingly. The physical character of each is recorded in the
medical book, and kept for reference.
“Defects of eyesight are also discovered in many cases, and the parents
informed that there is need to consult an oculist. Other physical
weaknesses, as they thus come to light, can be dealt with similarly if
need be, and the knowledge of them is most valuable in dealing with the
girls in their work. The experiment of medical inspection, as Miss Buss
tried it in her school, has proved an immense benefit, and the idea lay
very near her heart that all schools—especially all girls’
schools—should do likewise. It is one of my regrets that she never knew,
she was too ill, that three memoranda on the subject were given in
evidence to the Royal Commission on Secondary Education, one of the
three being by our medical inspector, Miss Cock, founded on the
experience of the North London Collegiate School.
“As regards intellectual education, it was characteristic of her that
she had not the slightest tendency to attach more importance to her own
than to other subjects. This was not simply—it was partly—the
consequence of an all-round logical view; it went with her elasticity of
imagination and extraordinary power of entering into and sympathizing
with things outside her experience in the ordinary sense. This is the
ideal Prime-Minister quality, and it was hers. She was not a musician,
she did not know mathematics; but I suppose she has not left the
impression more strongly on any two people of understanding their ideals
and supporting them with enthusiasm and sympathy than upon Mr. John
Farmer, of Balliol College, with reference to music, and upon myself in
mathematics. And in itself it is a noteworthy fact that she struck from
the very beginning on the idea that science should be an essential part
of the school curriculum, and elaborated it to so high a pitch that her
school was early described by others as _par excellence_ ‘the science
school.’ Her own scholarship was great in History and in French—genuine
fine scholarship, with the unrivalled power of graphic description and
interesting memory of events which make history-teaching and is so rare,
and with delightful freshness and power in handling a language with a
class. On this side of her work she was herself the perfect artist. For
the study of science there had been little opportunity in her girlhood,
but just what had been denied her was just what she most energetically
supplied. I think she would have been great in science: her mind was
scientific in its ways of work, and she had the practical constructive
talent that, added to thinking power, makes the physicist. The concrete
sciences would have attracted her intellectually more than the abstract.
“But in her ideal of education she came quite naturally and easily
outside her own intellectual tastes and acquirements. So natural was
this to her that she has doubtless left the impression on many of the
younger generation that she was mainly a great administrator rather than
also a great teacher with special tastes and powers of her own.
“Thus it was the more natural to her to realize instinctively, as she
did consciously, the doctrine of the harmonious development of all the
powers as the aim of the school education.
“Even the casual observer could not fail to have been struck by the
ever-growing, ever-assimilating nature of her mind. In this respect she
never grew older; never grew as middle-aged as many people are mentally
at twenty-five. Like the Athenians, she was always ready to hear some
new thing. She was ready to give any reasonable theorist a hearing,
though not necessarily to erect new altars to his ideals. Whenever she
heard of any idea that promised, she would, in later years, speak of it,
and have it discussed at our teachers’ meeting. Then, if it seemed well,
we would hear the propagandist in a lecture, and afterwards discuss the
subject again. The sequel depended on the opinion formed, but most new
ideas, special and general, came our way. The Harrow Music School, the
Royal Drawing Society, and Miss Chreimann’s Calisthenics may be
mentioned in particular as having received her recognition very early.
“Mr. Farmer writes as follows—
“Oxford.
“DEAR MRS. BRYANT,
“It is very difficult for me to write that which I feel
about the loss of Miss Buss.
“Miss Mary Gurney first introduced me to her.
“Soon after that she asked me to examine the music in the North
London Collegiate School. I was afraid at first that she would
not understand my point of view with respect to the study of
music in high schools, But, instead of being misunderstood, she
gave me her sympathy and help from the first in my endeavour to
make music an earnest and educational part of school-work.
“Miss Buss was not a young head-mistress when I first knew her;
but she was, like my greatest school-friend, Dr. Buller, Miss
Mary Gurney, and the dear old Master of Balliol, fearless in her
belief in all that was for the good of schools, and especially
in the redemption of music from being a time-wasting, emotional
accomplishment.
“Miss Buss allowed me to introduce the Harrow Music School
standard text, the purpose of which was to do away with the mere
swagger of certificate-giving, and to make it more a test of the
general work of the school in music. She was always so glad to
find that the majority of girls who did well in music were just
those who were doing well in other school-work.
“I shall always remember her patience and kindness in her
presence during the long examinations. She was never shocked at
my hopes, mostly very wildly expressed, for the future of music
in the education of girls.
“Music, above all studies, needs backing up with the advantage
of a thoroughly good education. It has always been my endeavour
to keep it from encroaching unfairly on the time and strength of
the girls. Miss Buss understood this, and helped to make it
understood.
“You have, my dear Mrs. Bryant, for so long been a witness to
that which I have so clumsily described. Please forgive me.
“Yours very truly,
“JOHN FARMER.”
“To the same purpose is a letter from Dr. Ablett, head of the Royal
Drawing Society—
“So many evidences have come to me of the great part Miss Buss
has played in the development of education, and she gave such
willing and helpful support to the work of this society that I,
personally, unfeignedly mourn her loss.
“Our council will be sorry to lose one of its members who, by
her world-wide reputation, added strength to, and won confidence
for, it.
“Miss Chreimann also bears similar witness—
“Miss Buss was amongst the first to introduce into her school
the eclectic (and original) series of physical exercises which
have been termed my ‘system,’ though my own feeling would always
be—
‘For forms and systems let the fools contest:
Whate’er is best administered is best!’
My aim is to secure equal balance in all the working organs of
the body, with permanence of function and steady gain in beauty
and order, rather than to teach any particular set or sets of
exercises.
“Miss Buss had early been impressed by the vastness of waste
consequent on the physical disabilities of girls, and still more
by the need of the grace that goes with well managed strength.
It was for these ends that she urged me to give my time to the
training of teachers, and the subsequent inspection of their
work, rather than to the endeavour after a physical culture,
which she agreed was necessary, but which was years in advance
of the sentiment, alike of the parents and of the majority of
educationalists.
“Miss Buss probably did more than any other public
school-mistress for the knowledge and adaptation of physical
training to the requirements of girls.”
In conclusion, Mrs. Bryant adds—
“It was with the same eagerness to learn and get help and light
wherever it could be found that Miss Buss welcomed the
institution of the University Examinations for schools and
scholars. Her gratitude to the University of Cambridge for
having been the first to come to the help of the girls was very
beautiful and touching. It would have had to be a very good
reason indeed that would make her substitute Oxford for
Cambridge, and the loyalty of her affectionate preference for
Girton over all other colleges was tender and very deep. She
loved Cambridge as if it had been her own _Alma Mater_. It was
the _Alma Mater_ of so many of her girls in the early struggling
days.
“I spoke of energy of will as one of her striking qualities, and
her whole life illustrates this so well that it only remains to
indicate its influence on the inner life of the school. She was
not always quick to decide unless it was necessary, and then she
decided instantly. Otherwise she deliberated before decision
with great care, weighing all sides of the matter, as she would
say. But once decided, she acted at once, and kept on acting
till the thing was done. That was where she economized force,
and in it lay the secret of much of her power and her tradition.
Her own mind did not admit of pause between decision and act,
and probably there was no quality in other people which tried
her patience more than hesitancy after it was certain what ought
to be done. How natural it is to some people is well known, but
by effort and practice the tendency can of course be mitigated,
if not cured. North-Londoners, from association with her, got
into the way of resembling her to some extent in this respect.
It became the habit of the place—may it long continue—to get
under way with one’s piece of work the instant one knew what it
was. I am very inferior to many of my colleagues in this
respect, and only disguise the fact by economy of another kind,
which perhaps goes naturally with a more slowly moving will; the
economy, namely, of doing my piece of work so that it has not to
be done again. But for simpler things there is no call for this
economy, and the comfort is great of being surrounded by persons
whose instinct it is to translate the idea into the action at
once.
“Her energy was her most obvious quality in school. Everybody
saw that, and each felt that she individually had to live up to
it. Still obvious, but deeper, was her boundless faith in the
possibility of achieving good ends. The choice of the school
motto, ‘We work in hope,’ was characteristic. She pursued her
ends without delay; she pursued them also with the confidence
that in some way or other they would one day be gained. About
her ends her will would be inflexible; about the means of
accomplishing them her invention was elastic, and her mind open.
And I suppose few persons in this world ever carried out their
ends with so much or such well-deserved success. Her secret was
to be uncompromising about essentials only.
“Her faith in the latent possibilities of character, even when
most unpromising, amounted to a principle of educational action,
which she wielded with marvellous effect, because its hold was
even more strong on her heart than on her head. She seemed
almost to believe—but this is an exaggeration—that any one could
be made to do or become anything. She produced wonderful results
in the way of training up efficient workers when others would
have despaired; though sometimes she did it at immense cost to
herself. She believed in every one, but she would let bad work
pass with no one. She was at once the strictest of critics and
the least despondent. Thus she made what she would of many,
especially of those who had very much to do with her in the
earlier years. Not that she was ignorant of their limitations
either, but limitations did not trouble her. She had absolutely
none of that restless critical spirit which requires that
everybody should be made to order, all over again, and
different. She took them as they were, loved them, and made the
best of them in both senses.
“Every girl was good for something to her eye and in her heart.
It was her business—our business—to find out how the most could
be made of her, and to make it. And just in proportion as good
in people was the reality she saw, so was their evil, for the
most part, a transitory unreality. Young people at least are apt
to be and do what you expect of them. She dwelt on the good,
insisted on it to them, wrestled for it with them, established
it in them, and straightway forgot the evil or remembered it
only as a passing phase. And the sign of this large-hearted
sympathy in an optimistic temperament is shown in the special
devotion to Miss Buss of all the so-called naughty girls.
“It is needless to enlarge on her possession of the
administrator’s gift of relying with generous trust upon her
tried helpers. This, too, was in her a matter of the heart quite
as much as of the head. She felt about them as one with her in a
joint work of which in all its phases she spoke as ‘ours,’ not
as ‘mine.’ It was pleasanter, more natural to her, to be the
controlling centre of a plural will than to be a single will
governing others with more or less allowance for their freedom.
As regards the question of the relation of the head to her
assistants, this might be described as the theory of her
practice, elastic as all theories must be in a mind of truly
practical genius. She believed thoroughly in the legal autocracy
of the head as the best form of school government, but in her
view of the autocrat’s standard for himself she expected him to
exercise rule with due regard for ministers and parliaments.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER X.
THE HEAD-MISTRESSES’ ASSOCIATION.
“L’Union fait la Force.”
Probably none of her public work gave Miss Buss more unqualified
satisfaction than the Head-mistresses’ Association, of which the first
germ seems to be contained in a passage from one of her Journal-letters
of September, 1874, written from Bonaly Tower, Edinburgh—
“Miss Beale of Cheltenham called on me the day I was in
London.... She and I think we must form an Association of
Head-mistresses, and hold conferences occasionally, in order to
know what we ought to assert and what surrender.
“Dr. Hodgson showed me, in the ‘Autocrat of the
Breakfast-Table,’ a passage about the ‘_membre à question_,’ and
the ‘_membre à by-laws_;’ the latter is called ‘_un Empereur
manqué_,’ and is the member who awes the rest of a committee by
his rigid adherence to by-laws.
“Just think of _men_ discussing for hours the arrangements of
girls’ boarding-houses—how the beds should stand, etc.!”
All who have been behind the scenes in the development of public schools
for girls can read in between the lines here the various stages by which
the Association of Head-mistresses came into being.
The question of the management of these new schools was naturally one of
supreme interest to the women who had made such schools possible. When
Miss Davies was asked by Lord Taunton, during her examination by the
Commission, to mention any point of importance in connection with the
education of women, she fixed on the point of the presence of women on
the councils of girls’ schools, on equal terms with men, and not on any
separate ladies’ committee. She was warmly supported by Miss Beale and
Miss Buss in this view that, for the management of girls, women were
essential. Miss Buss, in a letter written some time afterwards, but
before the change in her own schools, sums up the whole question
concisely—
“If your plans lead you to prefer a committee to a board of
trustees, I advise you not to allow two committees—one of
gentlemen for money matters, and one of ladies for internal
arrangements. Two committees always clash, sooner or later. The
mistress disagrees with the ladies’ committee, the gentlemen
interfere, and the usual result is that the ladies resign in a
body. I do not think any better plan can be devised than a
single council of men and women, with certain well-defined
duties to perform, but with no power of continual and daily
interference with the mistress. In this opinion I am unbiassed
by personal feeling, because, as this school is my own property,
I have never had to work with a committee. But I hear on all
sides of the difficulties which arise, and which are,
apparently, to be prevented only by the plan I have suggested.”
Mrs. Grey, when examined on March 25, 1873, before the “Endowed Schools
Committee,” gave her opinion in favour of women on the governing body of
every school, on the ground that a ladies’ committee “was powerful only
to object and interfere, but powerless to carry into effect any of their
suggestions, however valuable these might be.”
It is evident that what is wanted is a consultative body—a sort of Privy
Council—to advise and help in matters external, and in cases of special
difficulty; whilst, in the internal affairs of the school, the head must
be held responsible. It would follow that, to make a council really
useful, there must be some principle of selection to secure the right
persons, so that it should not be said in the future, as has been so
often possible to say in the past, that “head-masters and mistresses are
chosen with care, their degrees, experience, etc., all sifted, and then
they are set to work under a governing body chosen haphazard, or
anyhow!”
Most of the great schools owed their prosperity to the skill and
character of some one man or woman, and, even after they had attained
success, were still dependent on their head, who, instead of being
allowed free play, was checked and thwarted by this haphazard
council—the “expert” being under the control of the mere “amateur.”
In such cases, the “managing committee” is clearly not what is wanted.
Here are weighty words from a head-mistress, who must take highest rank
among the “experts”—
“No one knows how much of one’s health and energy is lost to the
school by the anxieties of getting those who do not understand
the complicated machinery not to interfere with things with
which the head alone ought to deal.
“Governors have no idea of the worries head-mistresses have,
when hysterical girls invent absurd stories; when parents and
doctors attribute every illness, real or imaginary, to lessons;
when teachers get wrong, or when they suddenly disappear, take
head-mistress-ships elsewhere, and draw away their friends and
pupils.
“Then, again, the governing body will blame for the inevitable,
or a head will deal with ninety-nine intricate cases, and in the
hundredth will make a mistake; they naturally know nothing of
the former, but of the latter they hear, only to condemn.”
This is one very important side. The head clearly has very definite
rights. But, there is also the other side, and the members of the
council have also their rights. Even the “mere amateur” is not without
rights, as a person who, in combining special interest in education,
with wider and more varied experience than can be enjoyed by the
professional educator, is therefore of use on the council in his power
of seeing things from the outside, and thus bringing to bear on them a
judgment not warped by mere professional bias. Even on the most
haphazard council, the persons elected are at least supposed to have
some power of help. These “amateurs” are consequently persons who are
more used to lead than to follow, to take the active rather than the
passive attitude, and to whom mere acquiescence is as uncongenial as it
is unaccustomed. It is therefore easy to imagine such a council growing
restive, even under the most competent leading, and asking, “Is it
really our whole duty to sit here simply to register the decrees of the
head-mistress?”
To strike the happy mean between tyranny and subjection is the duty
alike of the governing body and of head-master or mistress. The
governing body must not rule; nor, on the other hand, must its members
be too passive, or acquiesce when they ought to oppose. If they are
bound to follow competent leading, they are no less bound to dismiss the
incompetent. The captain of a ship gives place to a duly accredited
pilot, but he is none the less bound to judge whether the ship is making
for the straight course or not. To give up his command into unskilful
hands is, on the one side, as foolish as it would be to tie the pilot to
the mast, and let the ship go down, whilst the crew dispute for the
right to steer.
It is evident that, with the best intentions on both sides, great tact
and forbearance are needed to prevent occasional friction. And we need
not wonder that, as a matter of fact, there was on most governing bodies
in those early days a considerable amount of friction.
Of this Miss Buss had, in her own experience, comparatively little; but
what she had, arose entirely from this very point. She had arranged,
when she gave up her private school, that it should be in the hands of a
body of trustees, who would hold it for the public good, but who were
not intended to interfere with her own development of the work which she
had herself begun and carried on to success.
As the founder of the school, and as a life-member of a board on which
the other members were elected for short periods, her position was
unique. To this, also, must be added the fact that, for the first two
years, the new schools were carried on by means of her own liberal
donations and those of her personal friends. It was not to be expected
that she could hold the same relation to her governing body as the
ordinary head-mistress, who is appointed by them, and over whom they
have the right of dismissal.
It was perhaps a little unfortunate that at the time of special
difficulty, the chairmanship seemed to have become permanent in the
appointment of a chairman, who, however fitted for the post, was yet
only imperfectly acquainted with the early history of the school, and,
therefore, not unnaturally gave undue weight to the help given by the
Board, regarding the new scheme rather as an entirely fresh departure,
than as what it actually was, merely the expansion of an existing
organization, and still dependent on the skill to which it owed its
rise. He had been accustomed to long-established foundations, where
everything went by rule, and to committees where the word of the
chairman was law. Miss Buss was used to supreme power over her own
school, and she was, like most women of that day, unused to business
routine. This was, moreover, one of the very first governing bodies on
which women were elected on equal terms with men. Such an arrangement
was too new as yet to go without hitch. It would follow, quite
naturally, that men, out of mere force of habit, as well as in real
kindness of heart, should adopt a paternal and authoritative attitude
towards all women, even to those most competent to stand alone.
Miss Buss was by nature one of the least self-assertive of women. She
had always been helped by some strong man, and had accepted all help
with gratitude. First Mr. Laing, and then Dr. Hodgson (with her father
and brothers, as a matter of course), had been recognized as friends and
helpers.
But, at the same time, one of the most definite aims of her life had
been to raise the status of the head-mistress to the same level as that
of the head-master. For the sake of all teachers—not for her own
sake—she deprecated the secondary place given to women who were doing
the same work as men. She also thought the internal management of her
school should be left to her, as it would have been to a head-master in
her place, and for this she stood firm, even when, as a matter of mere
feeling, she might have given way, for she was really one of the
old-fashioned women who would personally endure anything for the sake of
peace.
It is more than probable that she felt some things too strongly, and
that she misunderstood others. In those days, most women suffered quite
needlessly from sheer ignorance of business routine. They lacked the
training and discipline which carry men unscathed through the roughness
of public life. Two men meeting on a committee may oppose each other
tooth and nail, but these men may afterwards go home and dine
comfortably together, bearing no traces of the fray. At that date, two
women, after a similar encounter, would have gone their separate ways,
to weep over a solitary cup of tea, and when next they met would pass
each other with the cut direct.
To a woman like Miss Buss, nothing of this sort would have been
possible, for even if she had not had too much common sense, she had
that most uncommon power of forgiveness which led to the saying, “If you
really want to know _how_ kind Miss Buss is you must do her some
injury!”
Nevertheless, however evanescent her feeling might be, she did for the
time feel her worries very intensely. It chanced that, as my way lay
beyond Myra Lodge, I usually drove her home from the meetings, and she
then relieved her pent-up feelings by rapid discussion of any vexed
question from her own point of view. By the time our drive ended, she
was, as a rule, quite ready for her ordinary meal, and we parted more
often than not with a jest, for this process was merely a question of
“blowing off the steam,” and I served as safety-valve. It was entirely a
matter of temperament. Whilst some temperaments fail to perceive the
existence of a grievance until it is formulated in words, others can
throw off in words all the bitterness of even the worst grievances. Miss
Buss belonged to the latter class, and, as I understood this thoroughly,
I could forget her words as soon as spoken. Where such hasty utterances
were taken seriously by persons of the opposite temperament, she was at
times seriously misunderstood.
During the nine years of suspense between the changes of 1870 and the
opening of the new buildings in 1879 there was much to try the most
perfect patience. Here is a little note showing the kind of thing that
used at first to cause a protest—
“MY VERY DEAR LITTLE ANNIE,
“I feel a little ashamed of my impatience to-day, but am
happy to find that Miss Elford was in the same frame of mind.
Lady X. talked quite wildly about this and that, and what ought
or ought not to be. These ladies have not an idea beyond the
parish school, where the lady of the manor is supreme, and
dictates to the children what they shall wear, and what they
shall not, how to do their hair, etc., etc. If it were not so
pitiable in its ignorance I could find it in my heart to cry, or
to run away and leave the board to manage its schools.
“How very thankful I am that you have always a soothing effect
on me. My dear love to you,
“ARNIE.”
This was probably one of many instances in which Miss Buss suffered from
an imperfect knowledge on the part of the public. Endowments for girls’
schools were still so novel that the demand for money for the Camden
School was, in some absurd way, associated with the Founder, as if she
were herself a recipient, instead of being, as she was, one of the most
generous of donors, giving herself and her means for the public good.
For example of the sort of trial involved in working with a committee to
one so used as Miss Buss had been to direct, rapid and free action, we
may take an experience in 1872, when the governing body, intent only on
saving her trouble in the temporary absence of the Rev. A. J. Buss
(Clerk to the Board), appointed a special Prize Day Committee. It had
been decided that, to bring the work more clearly before the public, the
Princess Louise should be asked to give the prizes in the Albert Hall.
We give Miss Buss’ report from her Journal-letters—
“June 22.
“I went yesterday to the Albert Hall and heard that it was let
for the 19th.
“The secretary was very polite, however, and, finding he had to
do with a princess, got the date altered to suit us. The fees
will cost £30. The secretary says we ought to distribute bills
through the exhibition, besides advertising, and let people in
who choose to _pay_ for entrance. This will require
consideration on Monday.
“Mr. Roby will speak, and I mean to ask him to say what Miss
Davies has done for education. On Saturday there is a conference
of teachers in the rooms of the Society of Arts. We shall see
plenty of people there, and can ask some one to speak. Dr. Lyon
Playfair is to take the chair.
“For the day itself we must invite _thousands_. Every member of
Parliament, every member of a city company, every clergyman and
Nonconformist of note. Invite all the press, all known
educationalists, etc., etc.
“Let us hope we shall have our own hall by next year, and then
we shall not need to go away from home.”
“July 2.
“Mr. Forster can’t take the chair. Lord Derby declines, and now,
at 2 p.m., comes a note to say the Princess Louise _will not be
able to attend_!
“Dr. Storrar goes to-morrow morning to see Mr. Holzmann, and
consult with him. We hope to get access to Princess Mary.
“If not where are we? Curiously enough, this sort of thing does
not worry me—at least, not much.... Nothing but the necessity of
working with other people would have made me allow the matter to
be so delayed. _June_ is our month, and always has been.
However, I am quite cool about matters. The inevitable must be
endured.”
“Myra Lodge, July 11, 8 a.m.
“The chairman sends Col. Airey’s note to say Princess Mary
declines. I shall go at once to consult Mr. Elliott.”
“202, Camden Road, July 11, 11 a.m.
“Mr. Elliott is going to try the Duke of Edinburgh. I am to get
rid of the Albert Hall, however, _coûte que coûte_.
“Everything is at a standstill. Never in my working life has
there been such a complete _fiasco_.”
“July 13.
“I must write later to answer your notes fully, but, at 8
o’clock this morning, I went to our vicar, Mr. Cutts, for a note
to the bishop’s chaplain, whom I do not know. I then went to Mr.
Elliott; returned to breakfast, and then dashed out with the
fixed determination not to return until the Prize Day
arrangements had been made.
“I drove in the storm to St. James’ Square (London House),
Bishop not there, but at Fulham; drove to Fulham, sent in my
note to the chaplain, who saw me _at once_, and asked me to go
to the bishop. I said I wanted to ask a question, and would not
disturb him if possible. So Mr. Gamier took in my message,
‘Would the bishop preside for even half an hour at our
meeting—on _any hour_ and _any day_ in the next fortnight.’
“The bishop positively had not one hour available. He went
through his list, but he would give me _Monday_, the _29th_, at
3 o’clock. Of course I accepted, rushed away to St. James’
Hall—not to be had anyhow for two months—thence to Willis’
Rooms, which we can have.
“How much I regret allowing a committee to be formed! If Mr.
Elliott, Mr. Danson, and I had been empowered to act, we should
have had one of the Princesses. There would have been no delay
by notes going first to the chairman and then having to be sent
to me. If I had had the note of Princess Louise’s secretary at 8
a.m., by 10 I should have been at her house, and should
_certainly_ have got an introduction to Princess Mary. In this
case, the memorial to the latter would have been in her hands by
Saturday morning, instead of Tuesday! and would have been
accompanied by a note from either Princess Louise or Lord Lorne.
“Don’t think me very egotistical, but don’t expect me to summon
a committee for the Prize Day again.
“I shall quietly go my own way now, and _do_ the things. That
last committee took up two hours and twenty-five minutes of my
time in the middle of the day, and for what? (I told you two
hours, but made a mistake.)
“I forgot to say I went to the printer, ordered all the
invitations, and expect them on Monday. But Willis’ Rooms,
though handsome, are _not large_. With every card we will send
out the slip about Princess Louise’s failure in her engagement.”
The meeting went off as well as these meetings always did. But next year
the Princess Mary of Teck was secured without difficulty; as well as
afterwards several other members of the Royal Family, including even the
Prince and Princess of Wales.
It must have been at this period that an equally characteristic little
story is told. Miss Buss, in the height of her vexation, sought comfort
beside her sister and her boy. As she entered the room, she exclaimed,
“_This_ is what I have brought on myself, and _for what_?” with an
impatient stamp of her foot. Baby Frank lifted his great eyes solemnly
to his aunt, and, with a deliberate stamp of his baby foot, echoed, “And
for vot?” on which, as she clasped him in her arms, all her indignation
vanished in a shower of kisses.
But that she did not demand mere acquiescence from her friends is proved
by many of her letters, one of which may be given, not only as showing
her many-sidedness, but also as revealing the true humility which was
the secret of her strength.
She had been long overstrained by anxiety and suspense, and had to some
extent lost patience under the many demands on her. At one time, indeed,
she even entertained serious thoughts of resigning her post unless
things could be made easier for her by the assurance of greater freedom
of action. On the occasion of this particular letter, the usual talk had
failed, and I must have written that same evening still more strongly,
urging either a more complete submission to the inevitable, or else some
bold stroke for liberty. She thus responds—
“Late as it is, and in spite of a distressing headache, I must
just write a few words to say how much I love and thank you for
your note. The advice in it I will try to follow.
“Yet, dearest Annie, it tears me in pieces to have to be always
asserting myself. But it seems to me to be impossible to go on
without a certain amount of freedom of action.
“Dearest Annie, I sobbed myself to sleep like a child, such a
thing not having occurred for years. The Mystery of Pain!—if it
were a clear duly to bear it, I would go through anything, but I
cannot see the duty, and can feel the pain....
“You must take me as I am, dear Annie, with all my failings. If
I am too impetuous, too energetic, too rash, these are all part
of such virtues as I may possess, and, without the two first,
the work that I have done would never have been done; and the
last I do not think I am. Other feelings, of course, I have,
unconscious and unknown to me. But take me as I am.
“I had a long and grave talk to Miss ——, who counsels fight, but
not on any personal ground. She says, ‘Resign, if there is
interference with the mistress’ liberty of action. That is a
public question, and one of public interest.’
“She was so good and loving; she was so tender; and she is so
wise and calm.
“She told me some of her own worries, and said that sometimes
she quivered in every nerve at her own council meetings. People
came in and asked for information, involving hours of work for
no result; ignored all that had been done, and talked as if they
alone had done everything and knew everything. She urged me to
try and be _im_personal, so to speak; to remember that these and
similar difficulties would always occur where there are several
people. She said that _women_ were always accused of being _too
personal_, and harm was done by giving a handle to such an
assertion.
“Dearest Annie! I must try to follow your advice, and think of
the work and not of myself. Please help me! Be a true friend,
and don’t fear saying even unpleasant things to me if you think
them deserved. I shall not quarrel.
“Worried and annoyed as I have been, I have never in my whole
life been cut by, or had a quarrel with, even the most absurd
parent! But you know I am to give in my resignation, if a public
question, such as payment of teachers, hours of work etc., is
raised.”
There were few head-mistresses who in those early days escaped some such
trouble. Referring to one very well-known instance, in 1874, Miss Buss
remarks—
“I see they are still in a state of fight at Milton Mount; there
seems to have been a great storm at the annual meeting. I am so
sorry for Miss Hadland, who is one of the best and bravest women
I know. I feel that she has fought for a principle, and not in
mere self-assertion. It is hard discipline to be thwarted at
every turn when she has only a single eye for the children’s
best education for this life and the next. Any worries that I
have had in the past sink into insignificance compared with Miss
Hadland’s.”
The recurrence of such difficulties rendered it desirable that the
head-mistresses should take counsel together, and try to secure some
firm and settled line of action which might lead to the avoidance of
misunderstandings between themselves and their governing bodies.
There was already in existence a very useful “School-Mistresses’
Association,” of which the head-mistresses were all members. But, as
including assistant-mistresses, private governesses, and even the “mere
amateur,” these meetings were better adapted for the discussion of
general educational questions than for the special difficulties of one
branch of the profession.
Miss Buss had been one of the most active members of the
School-Mistresses’ Association, which had its origin in a suggestion
made by Miss Davies, to which reference is made in a letter, dated
December, 1865, from Miss Buss to Miss Davies—
“I think your proposal about the meetings admirable. The first
meeting with men, Mr. Fitch, or some one, in the chair; the rest
modelled on the Kensington Society.[12] But where you will get
your papers from, is the question! There is so little leisure in
a teacher’s life.
“I think it would be useful and pleasant to meet the
Assistant-Commissioners, and hear some of their experience.
Such a meeting might be annual, and the others quarterly. I
mean a mixed meeting of men and women for the annual,
because, after the Commission ceases to sit, I suppose the
Assistant-Commissioners will disappear.”
Footnote 12:
The “Kensington Society,” to which reference is here made, is thus
described by Miss Davies—
“The Kensington Society was not exactly an educational union, though
it arose out of the agitation for the local examinations. I had, in
working for that, made acquaintance, partly by correspondence, with a
good many people of kindred interests. It seemed a pity that we should
lose sight of each other when that particular bit of work was
accomplished; so a little society was formed to meet and read papers
from time to time. Mrs. Manning, the step-mother of Miss Adelaide
Manning, was president, and as the meetings were often held at her
house in Kensington, we took that name. Miss Buss was a member, but
did not take an active part. This society lived, I think, for about
three years.”
The School-Mistresses’ Association was finally started in April, 1867,
with Miss Davies as honorary secretary. Miss Buss became president in
the second year.
In an early report, reference is made to a suggestion from Miss Clough,
which led to the first action having for its object co-operation among
teachers. It was ascertained that—
“While practically school-mistresses were singularly isolated,
some teachers having scarcely so much as a speaking acquaintance
with any professional associate, such isolation was involuntary,
and felt to be a great drawback to usefulness. It was agreed to
meet together, at stated times, for the discussion of subjects
specially interesting to teachers.”
A Library Committee, with Miss Gertrude King as secretary, undertook the
formation of a Teachers’ Library, and of a Registry for Professors. With
the exception of the attempt of the Governesses’ Benevolent Institution,
this seems to have been the first effort made by any educational body
towards duly qualified and certified teaching.
The meeting mentioned in Miss Buss’ letter was held, early in 1866, at
the house of Miss Garrett (Mrs. Garrett-Anderson), and was attended by
several of the Assistant-Commissioners, and by other persons interested
in the new movements. Matters relating to the Schools Inquiry—still in
progress—were discussed, as well as the question of education in
general.
A valuable series of papers on general educational points, by able
writers, was issued by the association, and various technical questions
were fully discussed; but the larger movements, such as the Local
Examinations, and the proposed Woman’s College at Hitchin, occupy a very
prominent place in the report which dwells on what is the true basis of
any useful association—
“Apart from any tangible results, it has been felt that the
recognition of a common bond—the kindling of zeal and courage,
by the contact of congenial minds—the cheering consciousness of
sympathy in working together for a great end, amply justify the
existence of such an association.”
The School-Mistresses’ Association continued its work until the increase
of the new Endowed Schools made a division of its members into three
distinct classes, head-mistresses, assistant-mistresses, and private
governesses. The two first formed themselves into distinct associations,
while the third was absorbed by the Teachers’ Guild, which also drew in
the amateurs.
Having fostered and protected this threefold fruitage up to the period
of ripening, the parent association then fell apart, its work being
done.
The Teachers’ Guild was originated by Miss Buss, at a meeting held
on February 7, 1883, at the North London Collegiate School for
Girls. On May 16 it was formally inaugurated at a meeting of the
School-Mistresses’ Association, and it was then taken up warmly by
the Head-mistresses’ Association.
Of the rise of the Assistant-mistresses’ Association, Miss E. P. Hughes
writes, referring to the help given by Miss Buss—
“In 1884, at a little meeting in my room at Newnham, it was
decided to start the Assistant-mistresses’ Association, the
initiative being left to Mrs. Corrie Grant, Miss Eves, and
myself. I wrote to Miss Buss and to several other leaders in
education. Miss Buss’ answer was the first we received, and I
distinctly remember the impression it produced. She sympathized
keenly with the desire for union, seeing at once the possible
danger of antagonism to other associations, but also seeing the
way to avoid this danger. Without her sympathy and advice I do
not think the association would have been started just
then.”[13]
Footnote 13:
That Miss Buss’ interest did not relax is shown by the resolution
passed by the Assistant-mistresses’ Association after the news of her
death: “A great loss has fallen on the profession, a loss we should
call irreparable did we not know that no devoted service dies, but
lives and bears fruit in many wonderful and unexpected ways. A great
worker has been called to her rest, and we who remain seem little as
compared with her who is gone. As teachers we must all feel how much
we have lost, while to some the loss is dearer and more personal.”
Miss Buss and Miss Beale may claim to have started the Head-mistresses’
Association, with the help of Miss H. M. Jones and a few others, who met
at Myra Lodge in the Christmas vacation of 1873, to formulate its
constitution.
In her memorial notice,[14] Miss Toplis tells us that the name of this
new association was due to Miss Buss, as she says—
Footnote 14:
_Educational Review_, January, 1895.
“How many of those who now hold the honourable position and
title of head-mistress know that they owe this title to her? She
had succeeded in convincing the authorities that in the new
schools which were to come into existence a woman could be the
actual head, and that there was no need to put her and her
school under a man as director (which was the only idea that
occurred to them); and then arose this question, what should the
lady be called?—superintendent, lady-principal, director? ‘A
thought flashed into my mind,’ she used to say, ‘if head-master,
why not head-mistress, as the exact equivalent?’ And, much to my
surprise, the suggestion was immediately accepted.”
Miss Buss became president of the association, retaining the office till
the end, when her place was taken by Miss Beale; the duties during the
long illness being undertaken by Miss H. M. Jones, as deputy-president.
Miss H. M. Jones, in a letter on Christmas Day, 1894, speaks for the
whole body in her expression of sorrow—
“How many will feel to-day that they have lost a friend on whose
judgment and advice they could always rely! Few women have
exercised so great an influence on the educational movements of
the present day, and still fewer have worked so hard as she has
done to secure the greatest possible advantages to the girls of
this and future generations. She will be greatly missed and
greatly mourned.
“It is just twenty-one years ago that a few of us
head-mistresses met during the Christmas holidays to establish
the Association, of which she has since then been the honoured
president, and in which she always took so great an interest. In
fact, as you know, Miss Buss has been foremost as a leader in
all our deliberations and in all our efforts.”
Miss Elsie Day, of the Grey Coat Hospital, Westminster, adds a very
interesting fact in the history of the Association; as, after the
expression of personal grief, she says—
“She was emphatically the mother of the head-mistresses. We
looked to no one, as we did to her, for wise and loving help.
For myself, I can only say I have loved her for twenty years.
“What I am anxious for is, that in any notice of her, when it
would be suitable, it should be mentioned that it was at her
request that, when the Head-mistresses’ Association met here, in
1885, there was a special celebration for the Association. She
wrote in the sweetest and most modest way, asking me if I saw my
way to it, and Canon Furse celebrated at my request. Such an
early celebration has been held and much appreciated almost
every year since.
“It is because I believe that I have had the credit of
initiating this that I am desirous that it should be known that,
although I made the arrangements, the thought was hers. We want
to help the younger heads to realize her beautiful unwitting
saintliness.”
Another friend among the head-mistresses, whom she often visited, tells
how at night Miss Buss liked that they should kneel down, and together
say the _Veni Creator_.[15]
Footnote 15:
This simplicity and devoutness are well shown in a letter to my
father, in reply to a poem which he had sent her. He was for many
years an invalid, and Miss Buss kept him in constant remembrance in
sending flowers or books. She knew that she was never forgotten in his
prayers—
“Myra Lodge, December 4, 1883.
“DEAR MR. RIDLEY,
“It is very good of you to write to me, and I shall take great
care of your letter. Miss Hickey’s poem is very beautiful and
suggestive. In my intensely active life I do feel, at times
especially, the need of spiritual uplifting. Early last week, before
your letter came, I had felt this from joining a communion service in
the house of a dear friend, whose only child, a grown-up son, was
dangerously ill.
“I know very little of thought-transference, but I wonder whether in
some wonderful and mysterious way this craving was made known to you.
“With my love and earnest thanks,
“Believe me, dear Mr. Ridley,
“Yours most truly,
“FRANCES M. BUSS.”
Those who knew her best know best the force of the description given of
her by her friend Miss Beale in her deeply appreciative sketch[16]—
Footnote 16:
_Guardian_, January 9, 1895.
“_How_ full of prayer was her life only a few intimate friends
know; one felt that for her the words were true, ‘They that wait
on the Lord shall renew their strength;’ and one is glad to
think that these words are in a higher sense true for her now—
‘I count that heaven itself is only work
To a surer issue,’
and that those who have entered into rest, yet rest not, but in
their glorified life give utterance to that fuller vision of
holiness which was once hidden by the clouds of earth.”
The prayerful attitude of spirit characteristic of all who live “as
seeing things invisible” must tend to the graces of simplicity and
humility. Nothing was more touching than to note these special graces in
one so strong and so capable, so eager and impetuous, and dowered with a
will that swept everything before it. Her own personal wants were of the
simplest, and no one ever gave less trouble to those around her. From
Mr. Latham, who, as secretary to the Endowed Schools’ Commission, saw
most of her in her public life, comes a very striking testimony to this
point in her character when, after acknowledging with full appreciation
how she “has done the state good service,” he adds—
“The simplicity of her life and the tranquillity of her
demeanour always seemed to me to mark her out in rather a
special way among her comrades in the cause of the education of
women and girls, of which she was a most distinguished pioneer.”
Amid the apparently endless multiplicity of her objects in life ran the
one simple purpose of faithful service, and thus in all complexity there
was still a complete order. Confusion is the result only of the clash of
selfish aims with social duties. To the “heart at leisure from itself”
life must always remain simple and harmonious.
To this humility Miss Beale also bears witness, touching first on a
point of special interest in connection with their professional work—
“The next thing that struck us was her _generosity_, not only in
money—though that was very great—but in personal service, in
thoughtfulness of others. If there was any improvement she could
suggest in organization, in methods of teaching, she made it her
business, at no little expense of money and time, to distribute
the information to others; never considering them as rivals, but
as fellow-workers, in a common cause.
“Next to her charity, one was impressed by her _humility_. ‘Let
each esteem other better than themselves,’ was the rule of her
own life, while she always seemed to look for excellences,
rather than failings, and to seek to develop, in all, the right
emulation, ‘If there be any virtue, any praise, think of these
things.’”
One of our greatest teachers tells us that “the test of a truly great
man is his humility,” and certainly to the small, self-centred soul no
grace is more difficult of attainment.
This humility was very striking in its contrast with the strength and
power of this strong woman. In things large or small it was the same;
she was the first to admit, either to teachers or pupils, any error of
judgment, or any small seeming inconsiderateness, so easy in her
terribly overcrowded life. Of this, one of the staff says aptly—
“She had also the power, so often wanting in a strong leader, of
acknowledging a mistake. I shall never forget the impression
made on me on receiving a note from her, apologizing for what I
might perhaps characterize as a failure in courtesy. That was
several years ago, but even then she was able to plead the
pressure on her nerves of the work whose magnitude none of us
can ever know.”
And one of the party of a Roman holiday relates, with moist eyes, how,
one day when she had retired to her room, up a long flight of stairs,
she heard a knock at the door, and there found Miss Buss, who had
followed her all the way up just to say, “I am afraid, my dear, that I
passed you without saying good morning; but I was thinking of something
else at the moment, and only remembered it afterwards!”
* * * * *
In speaking of “our dear friend and helper, Miss Buss,” Miss Cooper, of
Edgbaston, takes up the lesson of the life just closed, as she says—
“The whole of the educational world will grieve, and will feel
the void caused by her death. But the full realization of the
loss can only be felt by those who were drawn into the more
intimate personal and professional relations in which Miss Buss
showed her great and generous spirit in the best aspect.
“It is of the greatest help to remember the brave and loving
spirit just gone from us, and to recall not only her words of
hope and cheer to us, but also her encouragement to take up her
work when it had perforce to be given up; and, in our turn, to
help the younger members of our profession both in their own
daily needs and difficulties, and also in their endeavour after
a life that should realize the highest ideals with which such
leaders as Miss Buss have inspired us.
“From such help as she gave us, one learns the gospel of
helpfulness for others, and her life has inspired, and will
continue to inspire, some of the best work that has made
education a real and valuable thing for the women of
England—work which has still to develop into greater usefulness
as greater opportunities are presented to it.”
And, over and over, from the younger members of the association, come in
varying form the same heartfelt utterances of personal loss, as in this—
“I cannot tell you how much she helped me from the first time I
met her, when I went from the Cambridge Training College to work
under her at her own school, till I left to become head of the
West Ham School. There I rejoiced in having her as one of my
governors, and there she has given me help and encouragement
that I never can repay. But I know I am only one of _many_ whom
she taught and advised without a thought of the trouble to
herself.”
Never, surely, had formal vote of condolence less of mere form, or more
of love and sorrow than that sent by the Head-mistresses’ Association to
the friends of their “honoured and beloved president,” as they say—
“As a body, we lament the loss of our head; as individuals, we
mourn a dear and honoured friend, who, whether in the cause of
public progress or of private friendship, was ever ready to
spend herself, her time, and thought for others, and share with
them the fruits of her sound judgment and experience.
“We appreciate most thoroughly the splendid work that she
accomplished in the sphere of education, and the important part
she played in gaining for women the great educational advantages
which they now enjoy, but for the moment we are more disposed to
dwell upon her personal influence, her wide sympathies, her
never-failing readiness to give help and counsel, her public
spirit, and her loyal, affectionate disposition.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER XI.
UNIVERSITY EDUCATION FOR WOMEN.
“That human beings, whether male or female, come into the world
not merely to ‘get a living,’ but to live; that the life they
live depends largely on what they know and care about, upon the
breadth of their intellectual sympathy, upon their love of
truth, upon their power of influencing and inspiring other
minds; and that, for these reasons, mental culture stands in
just as close relation to the needs of a woman’s career in the
world as to that of a man—all these are propositions which, if
not self-evident, are at least seen in a clearer light by the
people of our generation than by their predecessors.”—J. G.
FITCH.
“The thing that vexes me is the entirely ignoring Miss Emily
Davies, to whose hard work it may fairly be said the whole
movement is due. She memorialized the Endowed Schools Commission
to include girls in their inquiries; she bore the brunt of the
fight about getting the Cambridge Local Examinations open, and
she called Girton into existence.”
So wrote Miss Buss to Dr. J. G. Fitch, in 1879, when roused to protest
against some statements in a book entitled, “Girls and Colleges for
Women,” which appeared at that date, and especially to protest against
what invariably roused her deepest ire—the failure to give honour where
honour was due. Of her it might always be said that she fulfilled the
lovely law of Christian life, “In honour preferring one another.” As
Miss Davies says, in reference to the passage just quoted, “It was like
Miss Buss, so full as she was of generosity, to be eager in protest
against what she regarded as a slight to another, not herself.”
Constantly recurrent, in speech and in writing, do we find testimony of
the value attached by Miss Buss to the University Local Examinations, of
which she was among the first to make use.
It was in consequence of the exertions of Miss Davies, assisted by Miss
Bostock, of Bedford College, and a small band of steady supporters,
that, in 1863, girls were, for the _first_ time, and in an informal way,
allowed to try the examination papers set for boys.[17]
Footnote 17:
Extract from the first circular—
“A committee of ladies and gentlemen interested in female education
have made arrangements for holding examinations of girls in connection
with the University of Cambridge, commencing December 14. Prizes and
certificates of proficiency will be awarded by the committee,
following the recommendations of the examiners.
“The examinations will be conducted in accordance with the Regulations
of the Cambridge Local Examination, but in a private manner and under
the superintendence of the ladies of the committee.
“The committee included the names of Miss Bostock, Miss Isa Craig,
Russell Gurney, Esq., G. W. Hastings, Esq., James Heywood, Esq., Dr.
Hodgson, Mrs. Manning, Mrs. Hensleigh Wedgwood, Mr. H. R. Tomkinson,
Esq., with Lady Goldsmid as treasurer, and Miss Emily Davies as hon.
sec. The same committee worked for Girton College, with the addition
of Lady Stanley of Alderley, Lady Augusta Stanley, Miss Shirreff, Mrs.
Russell Gurney, Miss Ponsonby, Miss Rich, Miss F. Metcalfe, Mr. Bryce,
Mr. Roby, and Mr. Gorst.”
It was not then known if they were even capable of the necessary mental
effort. The result, however, proved so satisfactory that the next year
saw the formation of a “London Centre for Girls,” of which Miss Davies
was honorary secretary until Girton took up her time, when she was
succeeded by Mrs. Wm. Burbury.
To the first irregular examination in 1863 Miss Buss sent in 25 girls
out of the total of 80. Much to her surprise, ten of her pupils failed
in arithmetic, with the result that she so reorganized her system of
teaching that henceforth few of her girls failed in that subject.
Between the years 1871 and 1892 no less than 1496 pupils passed in the
Cambridge Local Examinations, of whom 494 took honours.
There is an amusing letter to Miss Davies just before the examination of
1865, which shows how these things looked thirty years ago—
“12, Camden Street, Dec. 5, 1865.
“MY DEAR MISS DAVIES,
“Pray excuse my not answering your note till now. I am
literally ‘over head and ears’ in work. There is so much to look
after just now.
“Those dreadful Cambridge examiners! Their digestion would
certainly be impaired if they only knew how indignant I am with
them. Why, the time hitherto allowed for an examination is an
‘insult’ to us; but now they have added ‘injury,’ by curtailing
the time for English subjects—English, too! _The_ subject in
which a girl might hope to pass with credit! But we must endure
it, as we can’t cure it.
“No doubt _you_ are blissfully ignorant of the change. You are
not an unfortunate school-mistress, with a reputation to
maintain!
“And our girls! We sometimes think they have taken leave of
their senses. Either we have taken up too much, or they are
hopelessly stupid. I almost fear the former.
“Is the Cambridge Exam. to take place at that room in Conduit
Street? And, please let the unhappy victims have plenty of paper
before the bell rings. And I hope Miss Craig or Miss Bostock, or
some one, will be there to help you in distributing the
examination papers, wherever there is any English going on, for
even one minute is worth something when the time is so limited.
“I hope this is not asking too much; it is for _all_, at any
rate....
“Believe me,
“‘Genuinely and heartily’ yours,
“My dear Miss Davies,
“FRANCES M. BUSS.
“I mean to worry, worry, worry for a _carte de visite_ of you.
If you do not give way, then I shall worry, worry, worry Mrs.
Davies.”
In the same letter Miss Buss says—
“I am half-inclined to think of trying inspection next year on
our own account; the expense would, however, be one
consideration, but the experiment would be worth trying.”
In 1864, Miss Buss had been inspected by Mr. Fearon, on behalf of the
Schools Inquiry Commission, and her account of it to her sister is very
characteristic. That the inspector did not share her own estimate of her
girls is proved by the place given to her school, and by the invitation
to appear before the Commissioners in 1865.
“Camden Street, June 24, 1864.
“Mr. Fearon is such a nice man! I like him much (as I said to
Miss Begbie, I have taken to liking people lately: Economics, I
suppose). He knows what he is about; is quick without being
abrupt; and most certainly taught me a good deal. It was really
wonderful to see how rapidly he arrived at an estimate. The
morning was spent in getting information out of me about the
history, birth, growth, management, income, etc., of the school.
“He went, however, to calisthenics, and also through all the
rooms, counting those who were present, and comparing them with
the registers. After lunch, he examined the upper third in
arithmetic, dictation, reading, geography, requesting Miss —— to
give a history lesson before him.
“The children did the wildest things! I could have annihilated
them over and over again. One young monkey said the ‘Artic’
Ocean was in some ridiculous place. He said, ‘What?’ She
answered, ‘Artic.’ He said, ‘Spell it!’ To which, with the most
graceful complaisance, she said ‘a-r-t-i-c.’ Was she not a
wretch? Miss ——’s lesson was horrible—she dropped a few _h_’s,
and asked foolish questions, which produced equally absurd
answers. For instance, she asked some question about the death
of Rufus, to which the reply was, ‘Oh, they carried him away in
a dustcart!’ ‘William the Conqueror left the Holy Land to
Robert.’ When corrected, the children said, ‘Oh, well, it was
Canaan.’
“They were restless and fidgety, did not obey orders; and, in
fact, were as dreadful as they could be. If the first class do
not acquit themselves relatively better, our report will be a
queer one. I have made an appeal to them.
“The inspection has produced the pleasing result that our
children are not _near_ the average of the same age in a
National School. No grant under the revised code would be given
to us. Charming, is it not? In spelling, for instance, the
National School children are allowed only an average of one
mistake in a class. Our little ones made eight and a half _each_
instead of _one_ each. In arithmetic, the standard is half a
mistake, and ours made two and a half. The copy-books were
reported as bad; everything was bad! But I do not mind, provided
the elder girls come out well.”
The next experience does not seem to have been much happier, for on July
7 she says—
“I could not write yesterday. There were so many callers, and
the fact is that, since the inspection of yesterday, I have
collapsed, bodily and mentally!
“The heat, too, is dreadful, and I am quite overdone with it.
The whole of last evening and this morning, except for an hour,
I lay half unconscious on the bed or sofa, incapable of reading,
thinking, or sleeping. I am in a state of tears whenever I think
of Wednesday. I do not say the girls have not done well. In
comparison, probably, with others, _very_ well; but they did not
do their best.
“In a really easy arithmetic paper, not one, or only one,
touched the decimals. In history, they sat doing _nothing_ for
twenty minutes, although there was a question, ‘The dates of
following battles.’ Actually, _not one_ girl in my division
attempted to give the least account of the battle, or result, or
anything about it but the bare date, which, of course, in half
the cases, would be wrong; because in our examinations, they
said, it was of no use to do more than the absolute answer to
the question. Is it not cruel to me, after my life has been
given to the work?”
A letter dated 1869, five years later, shows how Miss Buss must have
profited by the experience of this inspection, for she writes in very
good spirits of the results of the Cambridge Local Examinations—
“All our girls have passed except one. Six of Miss Metcalfe’s
have passed, one with second class, and one with third class
honours. My list is good. Esther Greatbatch has first class, and
two have third class. Of seniors, two have third class; so we
have five honours. Three of the girls are distinguished in
Religious Knowledge. On the whole we have done well.”
In 1876, after another inspection, the tone changes again, and we find,
in comparing 1864 with 1876, that the times have changed also. Miss Buss
thus writes to me, during the inspection, which seems to have been
enlivened by suppers, in which the girls showed off their domestic
accomplishments, everything, including bread, being made by their own
hands—
“You cannot imagine how much the inspection puts on me. Luckily,
we like our examiner _very_ much indeed, and that lightens our
work. Shall I say this, after seeing his report? He must find
fault—that is the business of inspectors—their _raison d’être_.
If he finds defects, the existence of which I do not suspect, I
shall not mind so much, because that will be a case of living
and learning. But I am conceited enough to think that I could be
an inspector myself! We had a fine supper last night, cooked by
the lady-cooks! They were _so_ happy! Ella will tell you all
about it some time.”
That particular report does not happen to be before me, but there is a
letter from one of H.M. Inspectors of Schools, written to Miss Buss, in
1887, which may stand as representative—
“I had the pleasure of visiting the North London Collegiate
School last week, under the able guidance of Miss Dillys Davies.
I was very sorry not to see you, so that I might express to you
how delighted I was with all I saw. I have seen no better
appointed school. I have long considered your school—judged by
results—as the best girls’ school in England, but I _had_ never
seen the admirable rooms and apparatus.
“I have often named the school to lady-friends, but I find that
there is still, alas! a terrible blindness as to what
constitutes true education, and the unfortunate girls are sent
to be finished in the usual orthodox way in the usually
indifferent establishments.
“Permit me to add one more congratulation (to the thousands you
must have already received) in appreciation of the noble work
you are doing.”
The advance was strikingly rapid. In 1863, it was not even known whether
girls were able to undertake the work required for the Cambridge Local
Examinations. Even in 1876, Miss Buss writes thus of the results, which
had not quite satisfied the honorary secretary of her centre, as
compared with those of the year before—
“But please remember that last year the senior Cambridge girls
formed the _highest_ class; this year there are thirty-two girls
in a higher division, studying for the London University
Matriculation. Our girls have this year, in the greater number
of cases, gone up at sixteen, instead of seventeen, and that
makes a difference. We shall send up twelve or fourteen for the
Matriculation in May. Sara Burstall, two terms only from Camden
School, and _my_ scholar, gets half the £12 prize offered to the
best senior girls. Mr. Browne wrote to me to say so. I ought to
be content.”
For some years Miss Buss sent her pupils to the first London centre at
Burlington House, where Miss Davies was very much struck by the way in
which she—who had done so much to forward the movement—took her place
simply and quietly among the others, whose part had been merely to
accept what had been done for them.
But when the school in Camden Road had acquired rooms large enough to
meet the Cambridge requirements, Miss Buss considered it would be well
to form a new centre, and asked me to undertake the correspondence
involved. Miss Davies writes in reply to my first note—
“Your suggestion of a centre for North London strikes me as an
admirable one. I should like to have a _cordon_ of centres all
round London, and we seem now to be making a beginning to it.
Would it be possible to have also a St. John’s Wood Centre? We
found last year that Bayswater was of no use to St. John’s Wood.
Whether this district would produce enough candidates to support
a centre of its own I do not know.... I am so glad you are
taking up this matter so energetically and judiciously.”
In July, 1872, Miss Buss sent me a list of ladies who had agreed to act
as the committee of the _Regent’s Park Centre_. When we remember that
the duties included attendance for the honorary secretary from 9 a.m.
till 9 p.m., for three or four days out of the six, and that two or more
ladies of the committee must be present whenever an examination is going
on, it will be seen that this meant work. This first list met with warm
approval from the Rev. G. F. Browne, at Cambridge, as showing the
interest taken in the then new movement by persons known in the
educational world. We find here the names of Mrs. Charlton Bastian, Mrs.
Fox Bourne, Miss Orme, Mrs. Percy Bunting, Mrs. J. G. Fitch, Mrs. Hales,
Mrs. Henry Morley, and Mrs. Williamson. Mrs. Avery, Miss Sarah Ward
Andrews, Miss Agnes Jones, Miss Swan, and myself completed the first
list. My sister, Miss J. T. Ridley, was appointed honorary secretary,
and remained in this post till 1894, when she was succeeded by Miss
Hester Armstead, who had been a most successful candidate in both Junior
and Senior Examinations, before distinguishing herself in the Cambridge
Classical Tripos.
The number of candidates increased so rapidly that, in 1873, it was
necessary to arrange an Islington Centre to take the North London
pupils, and, in 1874, to open the St. John’s Wood and Hampstead Centre,
of which Miss Swan became the able honorary secretary for over twenty
years. If we could have foreseen such results, the name of _Regent’s
Park Centre_ would never have been given to the original centre, which
would have been known, from the first—as what it so soon became—the
centre for the pupils of Miss Buss’ schools only.
There is a letter from Miss Buss, in reference to the one difficulty
which ever occurred at this centre, which has interest in showing her on
both sides: the gracious and the severe. A girl had broken the rules,
and was, therefore, condemned to forfeit her examination, the honorary
secretary pleading in vain against this fiat—
“Just a line, dear Jeanie, to express to you, on my own part and
that of the teachers in the Cambridge Forms, my and their hearty
thanks for all the work you have done for us this week.
Everything has gone _admirably_, and my share of the work was
never less burdensome. Indeed, _I_ have had nothing to do with
the Cambridge work except look on!
“Do not think me a monster, but, of all the hard lessons I have
had to learn, none has been so hard as the one which makes me,
_for the moment_, not only refuse sympathy, but actually speak
harshly—if there is a stronger word I would use it. In the years
to come, I hope many a woman will thank me in her heart for
behaving harshly to her in her girlhood, in all matters of tears
or want of self-control, and so putting before her another
ideal: that of the woman strong to bear, to endure, to suffer,
rather than that of the weak woman always ready to give way at
the least difficulty. _Afterwards_ I always reason out the whole
matter; but it is _always afterwards_; never at the time.
“My love to you, Annie, and your father.
“Always yours affectionately,
“FRANCES M. BUSS.”
The following note to Miss Buss from one of the examiners of the
_Regent’s Park Centre_ shows how much she had to do with the decision to
print the girls’ names, as the boys’ names had always been printed; a
step then regarded as a rather alarming innovation:—
“March 2, 1874.
“I have had some conversation with the other members of
the Local Examinations Syndicate, and I think I am warranted in
expressing an opinion that if the subject of the printing of the
girls’ names in the published lists were again brought before
the Syndicate by a representation signed by influential local
secretaries and others who are interested in the question, it
would meet with a different solution than it has done
heretofore, thanks to the remarks you have made to me of your
own experience.
“I told Mr. Browne in our last conversation that I thought the
best way to bring the matter before us again would be for me to
write to you, and give you an intimation of the present feeling,
and you would know through whom to move.”
In the same spirit in which she had entered into the Cambridge Local
Examinations did Miss Buss throw herself into the larger work which soon
engrossed Miss Davies, viz. the development of Girton College. The
members of the Kensington Society were the first supporters of this
movement, one of the leaders being Mrs. Manning, who, with Miss Davies
and Mr. Sedley Taylor, and Mr. Tomkinson, took part in the first meeting
of a committee, on December 5, 1867, to consider “A Proposed College for
Women.”
In 1869 a house was taken at Hitchin, where five students were received,
Mrs. Manning acting for the first three months as Lady Principal. She
was succeeded, for the next year, by Miss Emily Shirreff, who relates
that a proposition to go as missionary to Fiji would at that time have
caused less amazement to her friends than this venture into untried
ways. Miss Davies herself was the first Head at Girton.
The effort to obtain the £13,000 required for the new buildings was,
like all other early efforts of the kind, a work of courage and
patience. The first £1000 was given by Madame Bodichon, and the same sum
by Miss E. A. Manning, while £8000 had been collected by the committee.
One of the things hard to bear by those who had made it possible to take
such a step was the foundation of the new Holloway College, with
magnificent buildings for which there were then no students, whilst
Girton was still struggling for the merely necessary accommodation
needed for its students actually in residence.
Occupied as she was with the same effort to obtain funds for her own
schools, Miss Buss could not give much pecuniary help. But she did help
very largely by her influence, being always and everywhere an able
propagandist of the new ideas.
Side by side with the Girton movement went another which began with a
set of lectures started by the Cambridge Ladies’ Association, in
January, 1870, to enable women-students to take advantage of the
instruction offered by Trinity College. For the accommodation of ladies
attending these lectures a house in Cambridge was taken by Mr. Sidgwick,
Miss Clough being placed at the head of it. This beginning, known as
Merton Hall, developed rapidly into the present Newnham College, with
its now fine building, possessing the advantage over Girton—which is
distant three miles out of Cambridge—of being within easy access to all
the advantages of the University.
The work at Newnham differs from that at Girton in offering a special
examination for women, under the authorization of the University and
with certificates, but not demanding the same work from women that was
imperative for men.
From the first, Miss Davies and her friends—Miss Buss being very firm on
this point—had steadily resisted every offer that made a separation
between men and women. They demanded for women the very same curriculum
as that expected from men. The trend of public opinion has on the whole
been in this direction during the later progress of the movement, and
although several difficult questions are still to be solved, few now
doubt that in the beginning it was expedient to make the demand in the
form in which it was made.
Miss Buss made frequent visits to Girton and to Newnham, having a
succession of pupils there. I remember her enjoyment, as well as my own,
as she took me to see them for the first time, when we lunched at Girton
with Miss Bernard, and afterwards had tea with Miss Clough, at Newnham;
in both Colleges being shown about by old pupils, delighted to show
their pretty rooms to their dear friend.
The present head of Girton writes, now that these visits are of the
past—
“It is not merely the thought of what, with her great abilities
and vast stores of experience, she might still have
accomplished, if she had been spared in health and strength till
old age overtook her, but the feeling that the world and her
friends are so much poorer by the loss of one of the best and
truest women that ever lived, that fills me with regret. As you
know, it has been my privilege to count her among my staunchest
friends, and I feel that to me, at least, one unfailing source
of sympathy and support is lost now that she is gone. There are
others who can tell better than I can what her help meant to the
college in early days. I know well how much it has owed to her
in later times, and in how many ways we shall miss her now.”
Miss Helen Gladstone gives another side of the work—
“I sincerely wish that I could show my respect and affection for
Miss Buss by attending either or both services to-morrow; but I
am too far off to make it possible. I most truly lament her
death, and I feel most grateful to her for her splendid work for
not merely education, but Church education. It was in connection
with such work that I knew her best, and gained the privilege of
forming a friendship with her.”
I have been favoured by Mr. Menzies with an interesting account of an
experiment of great importance in the early days of the University
movement, in which Miss Buss took an active part. When Miss Davies first
propounded her scheme to the School-Mistresses’ Association, it was
regarded by most of the members as a thing impossible. Mrs. Menzies, one
of the members, was known to have been educated by her father, Dr. King,
on the same lines as his boy-pupils. Her classmates, as men, won
University honours, while Mrs. Menzies went on with her studies at home
with so much success that in after life she was able to act as a
classical “coach” to young men preparing for the University.
Her opinion of the subject of the University career for girls was
naturally of weight; and she was asked to answer these two important
questions—
“(1) Could girls, beginning their classical studies at fourteen
or fifteen years of age, be able to hold their ground when
placed in competition with young men who had begun the same
studies in their eighth or ninth year? (2) Would it be necessary
to alter the entire system of teaching in girls’ schools, so as
to make classics the dominant study from the age at which boys
usually began?”
As Mrs. Menzies was unacquainted with everything connected with girls’
schools, she was unable to give any definite opinion. She had taught
Latin and Greek to a few ladies, but these had always been above the
schoolgirl age.
Here Miss Buss’ practical turn of mind came to the rescue. She first
proposed that Mrs. Menzies should take a senior class in the North
London School, and make the experiment; and when she found that Mrs.
Menzies was unable to give the time required for going to Camden Town,
she then chartered an omnibus, and sent the pupils to the teacher.
We hear that, at first, the size of the class rather alarmed Mrs.
Menzies, but—
“she soon felt at ease with girls so sympathetic, earnest, and
intelligent. She determined to keep them to Latin exclusively,
and see how far she could carry them on in the limited time,
without strain. Long before the end of the term, she came to the
conclusion that girls, trained as these had been, could easily,
by the time they were admissible to the University, be perfectly
able to pass the preliminary examination, and do as well as the
freshmen who usually go up for it. She was of opinion that the
time given by boys to athletics lost them the advantage which
their six or seven years’ earlier start might otherwise have
given them.”
Mr. Menzies concludes—
“This important experiment, which the foresight and management
of Miss Buss made possible, showed the school-mistresses that
these pupils could obtain the advantage of University training
without any alteration of their studies up to fourteen
or fifteen years of age. In consequence, such of the
school-mistresses who had hesitated about Miss Davies’
University scheme, were reconciled to it, and, in course of
time, approved of it.”
In February, 1873, there is a report in the _Union Journal_ of the first
examination for the Mathematical Tripos, held at Cambridge, in
connection with Girton College. Miss S. Woodhead was examined, by the
official examiners, in their private capacity, and they reported on her
papers according to the University standards. The marks assigned would
have placed Miss Woodhead among the senior optimes, _i.e._ in the second
class of mathematical honours. In April, 1873, Miss Cook and Miss
Lumsden took what would have been second- and third-class honours.
At the usual Convocation of the University of London, held on May 12,
1874, Dr. Storrar presiding, it was moved by the Rev. Septimus Buss, and
finally resolved, “That, in the opinion of Convocation, it is desirable
that women should be permitted to take degrees in the University of
London.”
This resolution was warmly supported by that unfailing friend of the
higher education of women, Dr. J. G. Fitch, who stood his ground against
the not less warm opposition, headed by Dr. Quain, who, referring to
Mrs. Somerville, asked “if the University was to go for a new charter
just to further the ambition of a few exceptional women?” Dr. Gibson,
also in opposition, urged that a woman could not take up a University
course without detracting from her other powers, for, as woman was
differently organized, it was necessary to give her a different
education; and he asked “if the University was to direct its work by
general wants, or by exceptional wants—the wants of a few masculine
women?”
From the fact that many of Miss Buss’ pupils were resident in London, it
followed that most of them were likely to avail themselves of the
facilities of the London University, even apart from the fact that
London was the first to grant degrees, an event of great excitement to
all women, of which Miss Buss writes in 1878—
“The great thing of last week is the opening of the examinations
and degrees of London University to women! An immense
concession, and one which must be followed in time by the older
universities.
“It is just fifteen years ago since the agitation began about
opening the local examinations, and now, I suppose, the cause is
won along the whole line.”
In a “Note on the Origin and History of the University of London”
(_University Calendar_), we find this record—
“The experiment of offering encouragement for women to pursue a
course of academic education, was at first tried under
limitations which somewhat impeded its success. Under the powers
given in the Charter of 1867, women were not rendered admissible
to the ordinary examinations, but two forms of certificate were
offered to female students—the one general, and the other of
higher proficiency. In the scheme for both examinations,
prominence was given to those subjects which it was presumed
that women and their teachers would prefer. But the number
availing themselves of this privilege was small, and the
privilege itself was not highly valued. Moreover, it was found
that the chief distinctions attained by women in these
examinations were not gained in the special subjects, but in the
classical languages and in science. It was urged by the teachers
that women did not desire a scheme of instruction exclusively
devised for their use, but would prefer to have access to the
ordinary degrees and honours, and to be subject to the same
tests of qualification which were imposed on other students.
“After much discussion, the Senate and Convocation agreed to
accept from the Crown, in 1878, a Supplemental Charter, making
every degree, honour, and prize awarded by the University
accessible to students of both sexes on perfectly equal terms.
The University of London was thus the first academical body in
the United Kingdom to admit women as candidates for degrees. The
record of the results which have followed this measure will be
found in the statistical tables and in the honours and
distinctions which have since been won by female candidates.”
On the point of granting degrees, on the same terms for women as for
men, Miss Buss was always most decided. She endeavoured to carry the
Head-mistresses’ Association with her in presenting a memorial to the
University authorities, but in this she failed, as is shown in the
following letter to Miss Davies—
“Myra Lodge, July 24, 1877.
“MY DEAR MISS DAVIES,
“It was so impossible to agree at our committee yesterday
that we gave up the idea of sending a memorial from the
Head-mistresses’ Association.
“At the committee, only five would vote for the degree on
absolutely equal terms, and eight were against it. Of the absent
members five wrote against it, so there would have been a large
_majority against_.
“Each mistress can sign the memorial she prefers. So, I suppose,
‘we,’ that is, my colleagues and I, had better sign your
memorial.
“I heard, for the first time, that men from the affiliated
colleges—Nottingham, for example—could get a degree without the
Little-Go, and with only two years’ residence. This, if correct,
does modify things a little. I heard, also, that Dr. Sidgwick
would vote for the degree being given on the same terms as now,
_i.e._ I suppose, on Girton and Newnham lines.
“Yours always truly,
“FRANCES M. BUSS.
“My young people were delighted with their visit to Girton.”
In a letter to Dr. Fitch, dated July 24, 1879, Miss Buss thus expresses
her satisfaction with the success of the efforts in this direction—
“DEAR MR. FITCH,
“Many thanks for your kind note, which gave me great
pleasure. I am glad to know that our friends are satisfied with
the result of their exertions on our behalf so far.
“The fight was hard. I wonder how the women will do in the B.A.
and B.Sc. Examinations.
“Cheltenham has done as well as usual. Nine candidates out of
ten passed in this last matriculation examination.
“_We_ are exceptionally fortunate this year, but our success is
largely owing to my accomplished and brilliant young
fellow-worker, Mrs. Bryant, who is as good and charming as she
is clever.
“I thank you most heartily for your congratulations, dear Mr.
Fitch.
“Believe me,
“Yours always truly,
“FRANCES M. BUSS.
“To J. G. Fitch, Esq., M.A.”
In 1881, Mrs. Grey writes to Miss Buss from Naples, on the receipt of
the _Cambridge Calendar_—
“This scheme seems as good as we could expect, and embracing all
the most important points so contended for. On the whole, when I
recollect the indifference, and sometimes the contemptuous
opposition that one met with, even when I first read a paper on
the subject, some six years ago, I think the progress has been
unexpectedly rapid; and it will be indefinitely accelerated when
the Universities (or Cambridge alone) have published their
scheme.”
It is only by carefully contrasting the state of girls’ education in
1863 with what, in 1895, is accepted as the natural order of things,
that we can estimate duly the value of the work done by the leaders in
this movement, amongst whom prominent places must be assigned to Emily
Davies and Frances Mary Buss.
We have a pleasant little glimpse of the relations that existed between
the two friends in a note found among Miss Buss’ most treasured
possessions, with a piece of needlework, marked in her writing, as
“worked by Miss Davies.”
“8, Harewood Square, Dec. 20, 1890.
“DEAR MISS BUSS,
“I am sending you, in a separate packet, marked, ‘to await
return,’ in case you have already left town, a chair-back, which
I have had great pleasure in working for you. Will you accept it
as a small token of affection and good will? I have thought much
of you while putting in the stitches, and of the high and noble
qualities which I have had so many opportunities of observing
during our long and unbroken friendship.
“All Christmas blessings to you and yours.
“Ever yours sincerely,
“EMILY DAVIES.”
As a summing-up of Miss Buss’ attitude with regard to this great
question, I am indebted to Mrs. Bryant for the following remarks which
embody the results of many a consultation between the head and her
sympathetic colleague, whose own career is so strikingly illustrative of
the whole question:—
“In the earlier years of the Cambridge Colleges, Miss Buss was
one of the most ardent supporters of the attempt to win for
women admission to the opportunities and recognition of the
older Universities. The part she took was the very useful one of
supplying students trained in her school, few of whom would
probably have gone on to a college career but for the stimulus
of her advice and encouragement. Times have greatly changed
since then. At that time there was a small band of women bent on
carrying out an ideal which is now partly fulfilled, and very
widely accepted, and there were a few girls, growing into
womanhood, with the eager thirst for knowledge that defies
obstacles. These latter were the first Cambridge students. But
the great mass of social feeling was hostile, or at the best
contentedly acquiescent in the existing state of affairs. It was
for the conversion of this conservatively acquiescent, but not
hostile, feeling, that missionary effort was needed, and Miss
Buss, among her girls and their parents, was the most ardent and
convincing of missionaries. She would captivate intellectually,
and persuade morally, the girl whom she saw as destined for the
higher intellectual things, and she would educate or persuade
the parents to take her view, or at any rate, give it a trial.
As a matter of course, we now ask of an elder girl in school
what she intends to do in her after-career, and the majority of
girls, or their parents, have some idea, or are trying to form
one. But in the early seventies it was not so, and Miss Buss
created ideals of the future for individuals out of little more
than her perception of their capabilities.
“With regard to the difference of ideal end between the two
Cambridge Colleges, Miss Buss, with her usual balance and
moderation, held that the greater liberty, as regards time of
residence and studies, allowed at Newnham, was very serviceable
to a large class of students, especially at the beginning, whose
circumstances and opportunities did not allow that they should
completely carry out the regular University conditions. But she
had, nevertheless, no doubt at all that the full University
course, and the University degree as its recognition, was the
end to be achieved by all who could achieve it. If the
University were in need of reform, if more liberty should be
allowed as regards Greek in particular, then, it seemed to her,
that question should be fought out for both sexes alike, since
there was no peculiar reason why women specially should abstain
from the classics. But, to her mind, the over-balancing
consideration was that the principle of equality in the race for
such intellectual privileges as could be won, should be broadly
asserted in the most emphatic way—‘a fair fight, and no favour,’
as she often said. She made no assumption about the extent of
the average woman’s powers, but she smiled over the _à priori_
views, once so common, which settled beforehand what their
tastes should be—for literature, for botany, perhaps, for modern
languages, certainly not for mathematics. So her sympathies,
regarding the ultimate end to be attained, leaned to the system
of Girton College, which fulfilled all the University
conditions, and, pending the grant by the University of degrees,
stamped each Girton student with a mark equivalent to graduation
in all respects. The unlimited liberty of choice allowed to the
women students at Oxford was, to her, a great stumbling-block.
‘It is impossible to follow the variety of the Oxford course in
all its windings,’ she would say; ‘or to make out clearly what
an Oxford woman has done.’ And there can be no doubt that the
Oxford women who have done the best courses do suffer seriously
in the practical world by the very indefinite character of the
general stamp they wear. This, indeed, has come to be an
important argument in favour of the grant of the Oxford degree
to the fully qualified women.
“In these latter years, however, she, like others, felt that
there was hope of great things, educationally, in the
development of thought among the younger generation at Oxford.
How deeply interested she was in the Conference on Secondary
Education at Oxford! It was a great disappointment to her that
on account of illness she could not be present. Telling her all
about it afterwards was part of the conference to me.
“As regards the stumbling-block of compulsory Greek, it may be
worth while to say a word here which should tend to dispel the
fear that the requirement of Greek at the Universities will make
Greek a necessary class-subject in the first-grade schools. It
has not had this effect so far, I believe, in any of the schools
supplying students to Girton. Only the small band of girls
destined for a University course make it a study. In our
practice at the North London Collegiate School, it is
alternative with French, as Latin is with German; and it always
comes late in the course. We see, however, that it is taught
well, very well, when it comes.
“On May 15, 1878, on the occasion of the presentation of degrees
at the University of London, the Chancellor, Lord Granville made
the great announcement that henceforth women should be eligible
for all the degrees and honours of the University. I was with
Miss Buss in the gallery; it was a thrilling moment. The
concession was unexpected, and it was so perfectly complete.
There were no reservations in it, no locked doors, no exclusion
from rights in the government of the University, or from
eligibility for any of its posts. The time for experiment was
over, and the test had been approved; the time for half-measures
was over too. There never was a concession more freely or more
graciously made, and with a largeness of wisdom and sympathy
which cannot be honoured too much.
“At the same time, it was announced that the University would
institute a diploma for teachers, and thus another much-desired
end was also fulfilled. ‘I care for that almost as much,’ she
said. But the prime interest centred in the grant of the
degrees. How overjoyed she was! ‘What will _you_ do?’ she said
to me. ‘I will learn Latin,’ I said; ‘matriculate in January,
and go on for the Doctor of Science degree in Philosophy.’
“In later years we did not sit in the gallery, however late we
came, but in the front row. She never failed to come, not even
last year, when, indeed, she found the effort trying. It was
such a pleasure to her, year by year, to see the number of
girl-graduates grow; and she rejoiced as much in the success of
others as in that of her own flock. It was characteristic of her
selflessness, her magnanimity, that, instead of presenting her
distinguished pupils herself, she handed over to me from the
first that honourable duty. ‘She liked it better so,’ she said.
But thus it was in all things: wherever there was honour, she
put me forward to share it. For herself she sought nothing.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
_Photo. by Elliott and Fry._
MISS BUSS AND DR. SOPHIE BRYANT.
]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER XII.
TRAINING COLLEGES FOR TEACHERS.
“The science of education, so little thought of, so
contemptuously ignored, is the crowning science of all, for it
is the application of all the sciences to the production of the
highest result—the perfect man.”—From a paper read by Mrs. Grey
at the meeting of the British Association, 1874.
In 1873, the theory and practice of education were still so far apart
that, in the March number of _The Journal of the Women’s Education
Union_ of that year, we find the following very definite statement:—
“Training colleges do not exist; the expense of founding them
would place them almost hopelessly out of reach, though
something might have been done by following up the example of
the Home and Colonial in their private department. Mrs. Wm. Grey
proposed a plan for a class of student teachers to form part of
every large school, which was adopted by the Public Day-school
Company, who are, however, not yet in a position to try it. It
has also been approved by Miss Buss and Miss Beale, and is
already in operation in Camden Town.”
In October, 1872, Miss Buss and Miss Doreck, the two ladies on the
council of the College of Preceptors, had brought forward a scheme for
establishing a “Training class of lectures and lessons for teachers;”
and as a consequence of this effort the office of “Professor of the
Science and Art of Education” was offered to Mr. Joseph Payne, whose
inaugural address was given on January 30, 1873. Miss Buss and Miss
Doreck took an active part in bringing together the seventy students
(chiefly women) who attended these lectures. At Norwich, Dr. Hodgson
spoke with strong approval of the step taken by the College of
Preceptors in founding a professorship of the theory and art of
education, and of their choice of Mr. Payne to fill this post. He spoke
of the success of Mr. Payne’s lectures in London and in Edinburgh, and
expressed a hope that such professorships would ere long be established
“in one or more of the chief Scottish Universities also,” and added that
“they were strongly to be desired for the English Universities also.”
Of Mr. Payne’s lectures there is a notice in the March _Education
Journal_ of the same year—
“The object of the whole course is to show that there are
principles of education on which, in order to be efficient,
practice must be founded; or, in other words, that there is a
science of education, in reference to which the art must be
conducted, and the value of its processes tested.”
Miss Buss’ feeling about these lectures is shown in a letter written in
1876, soon after the death of her much-valued friend—
“Because I have not enough to do, I am working up an attempt to
raise a little memorial to Mr. Payne, the ablest teacher I have
ever known—except Dr. Hodgson—and the man who has raised the
noblest ideal before the profession. It cuts me to the heart to
see his name lost to posterity, and after several fruitless
attempts, it seems I must set the ball rolling. Will you or your
father give something? I want the memorial to be a prize or
scholarship in the new Teachers’ Training Society.”
Many a successful head-mistress must thank Miss Buss for her
recommendation to these lectures. Mrs. Bryant and Miss Cooper, of
Edgbaston, were among the students, and both became Fellows of the
College. A letter from Miss Frances Lord says, in 1873—
“I am attending Mr. Payne’s lectures, as you told me to do. My
sister Emily goes too, and, as a teacher, makes remarks that Mr.
Payne thinks well of. If she ever takes up Kindergarten work (as
I want her to do), she will, I am sure, be greatly helped by
these lectures. My friends, the Wards, find, as we do, that the
questions Mr. Payne asks draw largely on common observation such
as we have been practising and have been wanting to know the
value of.”
Mr. Payne called attention to the principles of Kindergarten work, a
subject brought to the front by Miss Shirreff, who wrote a series of
articles in 1874, in the _Journal_, leading to the formation of the
Frœbel Society, of which Miss Doreck was the first president, and Miss
E. A. Manning the honorary secretary. Miss Manning read a paper on the
subject at the meeting of the Social Science Congress, in the same year.
Miss Doreck had been elected—at Miss Buss’ suggestion—on the council of
the College of Preceptors, and the two worked very heartily
together.[18] On April 16, 1874, the two ladies formed part of a
deputation by appointment to urge on the Duke of Richmond the formation
of a Training College for Teachers.
Footnote 18:
Miss Doreck’s special work was Kindergarten teaching, then quite a
novelty in England. Miss Buss once said, “We shall not have thorough
education till we have the Kindergarten;” but she could only help this
movement on by helping others to do it.
The design of the deputation was—
“to have the scholastic professors placed on a similar footing
to that of law and physics, and, in order to assist the
Government in effecting that end, the College of Preceptors was
ready to undertake the requisite corresponding functions of the
Law Institution, the College of Surgeons, or a Pharmaceutical
Society.”
The principle at stake may be considered the central thought of the
whole life of Frances Mary Buss. To raise the ideal of teaching, and,
with this, the status of the teacher, was the most definite purpose of
this life; and, as means to an end, she recognized from the very first
the supreme importance of training for the work. In her youth, the
elementary school teacher was the only person happy enough to receive
this preparation for his duties. All the rest—as was candidly avowed by
one of the foremost schoolmasters of the day—had to gain their
experience at the cost of their first pupils.
To her own mother Miss Buss was largely indebted for the insight which
made her a leader in the training-college movements. When Mrs. Buss
decided on opening her school in Clarence Road, she had the bold thought
of preparing herself for the venture by going through the course offered
at the Home and Colonial Institute to elementary teachers. At this
distance of time, it is difficult to estimate duly the originality and
the strength of mind implied in such a step. In the “forties,” the
beaten track on which ladies were expected to walk securely was very
straight and very narrow. But this bold step was taken, and it resulted
in a permanent broadening of the way for all who came after, since the
class for the training of secondary teachers was a direct result of Mrs.
Buss’ own action. In this class, all the teachers of Miss Buss’ schools
received their training, and it is of interest to note among the
earliest students the names of Anne Clough, the founder of Newnham
College, and of Jane Agnes Chessar, a teacher of very remarkable power,
who was one of the first ladies elected on the School Board.
It might possibly have been due to the influence of the Rev. David Laing
that Mrs. Buss originated her plan, but the credit remains with her of
being the first in the field of action. The idea of training governesses
was suggested as early as 1843, on the council of the Governesses’
Benevolent Institution, but no action was taken before 1848, even to
form classes.
We have seen that, as early as 1872, Miss Buss had the dream of a
training college attached to her own school. This she gave up later in
favour of the Maria Grey Training College. In November, 1872, Miss Beale
writes to her—
“I did think much of our conversation about training
governesses, and we have arranged to receive about six on the
same terms as the ‘Home and Colonial.’ They can for this not
only attend here but go to certain lessons on Method at the
Normal Training College.”
The Training Department of the Cheltenham Ladies’ College is now one of
the distinct branches of work there, including Kindergarten training,
with the novel feature of a small Kindergarten for children of the
elementary class, serving as a training school.
It was not till 1877 that Mrs. Grey succeeded in opening the college
which now bears her name, up to which she and Miss Shirreff had been
working in the Teachers’ Training and Registration Society, one of the
offshoots of the Women’s Education Union.
For details of this work I am indebted to Miss Shirreff, and also to
Miss Agnes J. Ward, one of the first principals of the college.
The council, in addition to Mrs. Grey and Miss Shirreff, consisted of
Miss Chessar, Dr. E. A. Abbott, Mr. J. H. Rigg, Mr. R. N. Shore, Mr. C.
H. Lake, and Mr. Douglas Galton. The articles of association were
drafted by Mr. William Shaen, who, till his death, in 1886, was a
generous and true friend to the college.
Miss Louisa Brough became secretary, under Mrs. Grey, as organizing
secretary. Unhappily, after working for a year or so, Mrs. Grey’s health
broke down, and she was ordered abroad. It was then that Miss Buss came
to the front, though she had been quietly helpful from the beginning.
Some letters to her from Rome show Mrs. Grey’s estimate of this help—
“23, Piazza de Spagna, Roma,
“Feb. 11, 1879.
“It is really too good of you, in the midst of your hard-worked
life, to make time for writing me such a charming long letter as
I received a few days ago.... We have left the hotel, and have
very sunny rooms just at the foot of the great stairs. How I
wish you were over the way, where I used to pick you up two
years ago.
“Except from yourself, we hear hardly anything from the college.
Your hopeful report is a great joy to us, because you know the
difficulties so well that you will never be over sanguine. How
kind it is of you and Miss Chessar to work for it as you do, and
Dr. Abbott deserves more thanks than I can express. I would like
to write to him only I feel it would be imposing on him a letter
to write, and that would be no kindness. Will you tell him this
when you meet, and something of what we both feel about his
generous gift of time and thought to the institution that we
have cared for so earnestly and are driven to forsake.... We
must, as you say, make our scheme as we go along, and large
numbers would be an embarrassment. As to funds, you make no
complaint, and that is comforting.... Once the college is in
settled good work, and the Cambridge scheme is published, I
cannot doubt that many will be found to help.”
Mrs. Grey was never strong enough to return to the work so near her
heart, and her great comfort was in the thought that with Miss Buss’
oversight it must go on successfully. On the occasion of a presentation
to Mrs. Grey of a beautiful casket, with an address from the Girls’
Public Day-school Company, Miss Shirreff writes thus to Miss Buss—
“We are both of us touched to the heart’s core by your letter.
Such words from one who has herself been so brave and so
successful a pioneer in the cause of woman’s education are the
highest testimonial we could receive, and we value them as such.
And a large debt we owe to you also, for all the practical
organizations of our schools we learnt from you....
“I may honestly say that the receipt of that address, and the
additional gratification of seeing yours and Miss Beale’s name
attached to it, gave my sister the only real pleasure she has
felt during the weary months of this year. The less she hopes
ever to regain her power of work the more she values that
testimony to the worth of her past work.
“We have had, of course, much passing enjoyment in the beautiful
scenery we have dwelt amongst, but there is a dark shadow over
all. It is not perhaps reasonable, when sixty is long passed, to
mourn that an active career is stopped short, but you know
better than any one how, in dealing with education, one must
still feel that no one worker can be spared—do we not know how
all the best are over-worked?”
Miss Ward gives us an interesting sketch of the growth of the work from
the first.
“The aims of the society were mainly to provide for the
professional training of teachers above the elementary. This
training included both theoretical knowledge and practical
skill. Unendowed as the society was, it was necessary to create
a guarantee fund, and this was done by a few friends, while Miss
Buss, sparing no pains to induce teachers to avail themselves of
the advantages offered, contributed also from the first in
money. At length, after the tentative stage of providing
lectures for teachers, the council of the society were fortunate
enough to secure from the Rev. Wm. Rogers the use of some rooms
in Skinner Street, Bishopsgate, which served as a college for
students, and leave for their students to practise teaching in
the large and interesting girls’ school which now, thanks to the
Dulwich Endowment Fund, lately available, is handsomely housed
in Spital Square, E. In 1878, however, when the Training College
opened, the school was in other and less convenient buildings.
These have now disappeared, to make way for the Great Eastern
Railway’s vast extension.
“Miss Alice Lushington was, in 1878, appointed principal of the
college, and held the post till 1880, when Miss Agnes J. Ward
became principal. Miss Buss lost no opportunity of urging the
development of the work. She was indefatigable in her attendance
at council meetings, and eager to show her strong appreciation
of professional training by appointing as mistresses in her
school those who had gone through a course partly theoretical
and partly practical. Towards the end of 1880, owing to her
strong feeling that the society should possess its own
practising school, the council acquired the lease of No. 1,
Fitzroy Square, and there, in January, 1881, under the
headmistress-ship of Miss Lawford (now of the Camden School for
Girls), a day school was opened and named after Mrs. Wm. Grey.
In 1885, it became the chief practising school of the society
which in that year transferred the Training College to Fitzroy
Street from Bishopsgate. From that year, also, the college was
called “The Maria Grey Training College.” Miss Buss was at that
time desirous of affiliating the college to her schools; but
after mature consideration the council held that it was better
to pursue a more independent course, and wait until they could
establish their work on a permanent foundation. This they
accomplished in 1892, when their large College for Teachers, Day
School for Girls, and Kindergarten were all transferred to
Brondesbury, where they are finally located in a building which
cost £13,000. This sum was collected by the energy and devotion
of the council, and in this heavy task of collecting a fund for
a work the value of which only experts could be expected fully
to appreciate, Miss Buss took for years an active part. Her name
on the council was of signal use in certain directions, notably
in the matter of the Pfeiffer bequest. The sum of £4000 finally
obtained by the college from the trustees enabled the council to
complete their building and start their important work under
Miss Alice Woods as principal. The council thus provided for
pupils from three years old upwards, in surroundings at once
adequate and suitable. Miss Buss’ strong faith in the importance
of the council’s work, to education at large, her strenuous
support in its early years of trial, her generous recognition
and appraisement of the efforts of the staff, were as helpful as
they were unflagging.”
The feeling of the council at the great loss which they sustained in the
removal of one who had done so much for the college, is given in the
minute which recorded that loss—
“It was moved by the Rev. T. W. Sharpe, chairman, seconded by J.
G. Fitch, Esq., and carried unanimously: That the council of the
Maria Grey Training College, in tendering an expression of their
deepest sympathy with the family of the late Frances Mary Buss,
desire to place on record their sense of the irreparable loss
which the cause of education in general, and of women’s
education in particular, has sustained by her lamented death;
the council have also to deplore, on their own account, the loss
of a highly valued colleague, whose long and active co-operation
in their work of training women-teachers for secondary schools
contributed largely to the success already attained, and to
whose practical experience and wide-minded aims the council
looked for still further support in the future.”
Nothing could show more distinctly the rapid growth of interest among
women in higher education than a comparison of the help given to Mrs.
Grey for the Training College with that given to Miss Davies and to Miss
Buss for Girton and for the North London Collegiate School. Only a
single decade had elapsed. In 1871, it was so hard to get even £10
donations, that the gift of £1000 to Girton from Madame Bodichon and
from Miss E. A. Manning, and Miss Ewart’s £1000 for the Camden School,
shine out like beacon-lights. In 1881, for the Training College, we are
dazzled by the general blaze: Lady Farrer, Mrs. Pennington, and Mrs.
Winckworth give each £1000, and Miss Ewart and Miss Soames each £500.
Mr. Tomlinson also adds £1000, which, with £4000 from the Emily Pfeiffer
Bequest, gives the college its start free from debt.
I have no record of Miss Buss’ gifts, but there is no doubt about her
having done a fair share in this movement so specially interesting to
her. When the Maria Grey College was safe, and pursuing its successful
course, a fresh departure was originated by Miss Buss. It was hardly to
be expected that graduates of Girton and Newnham would come to London to
be trained, and it therefore seemed desirable to offer training at
Cambridge.
On April 6, 1885, Miss Buss writes to me—
“I am begging for help towards starting an experiment at
Cambridge for a class for training the Girton and Newnham
students as teachers before they enter their profession. They
will not go to Bishopsgate, but we (herself and Mrs. Bryant)
think they may be induced to stay in Cambridge for a time.
“Cambridge is willing, and a suitable lady is ready. A house for
seven students can be had. Mrs. Bryant is to harangue the Tripos
students on the duty of fitting themselves for their work, and I
am promised help to the extent of £50, but we must raise £200,
and Cambridge cannot do this. I think, if we can induce the
students to be trained, their fees will cover expenses, but we
must guarantee at least £100 to Miss Hughes, the mistress.
“Will you (or can you, rather, with your other claims) help? Can
you tell me where to apply for more? I have these promises: F.
M. B. £10 (for three years), Miss Soames £10, Mrs. Bryant £10,
Mr. Brooke Lambert £5, Mr. T. W. Sharpe £5, Mrs. Micholls £5,
and Miss Behrens £5.”
My name was added to this list, and I find another letter dated April 1,
1891, when Miss Buss writes again—
“Do you know any one who, for the sake of education, would buy a
house in Cambridge, and let it at once to the committee of the
Teachers’ Training College? It would be a safe investment, and
the committee could certainly pay four per cent. A splendid
opportunity of getting three adjoining and connected houses
offers. The college is successful, but the Cambridge people are
poor, in one sense, as they are given to plain living and high
thinking rather than to money making! Of course it would be
easier if the three houses, each at £1200, could be got, but the
committee would probably take one, and the others might be got
by leaving a mortgage on them.
“I hardly think it right to take one myself, as I have No. 202
on me till the end of the year; and the leases of 87 and 89, in
King Henry’s Road, and the house 85 next door, and this will
probably be on my hands till the end of my life.”
In October of the same year, she sent out a letter to her friends
bringing forward a scheme to secure a suitable building by starting a
company to raise the necessary capital in £10 shares, to pay four per
cent. She mentions that she and Mrs. Bryant are ready to put down their
names for £750 between them, and asks for more names, before the first
meeting of the committee, with an earnestness which could not be
refused. In the end, however, illness prevented further effort on her
part, and the work was done by others. Mrs. Bryant gives some
interesting details—
“My personal knowledge of her work in this field has to do with
the history of the Cambridge Training College. We were much
exercised in mind by the fact that the women educated at the
Universities persisted in neglecting professional training.
Either they despised it, or they could not afford it, or they
did not like it, and could get entrance into the schools without
it. Miss Buss, in her straightforward practical way, wondered
that they did not see their own need of it; she thought it so
obvious that a person undertaking a delicate task ought to learn
as much as possible about the ways in which it is and can be
done. I also wondered at the absence of desire in well-trained
minds to get at a theory of their art founded on a knowledge of
its bottom sciences. There, however, was the fact, and there was
serious danger that the credit of training as a practical
success would be impaired by the flow into the Training College
of the less, and the avoidance of it by the more educated women.
Of course we could convert and persuade the able North London
girls, but these were only a handful comparatively, and after
three years at college they were naturally not so docile to our
ideas. Could anything be done to avert this growing danger that
the teaching profession should fall into the two classes of
those who were highly educated and not trained, and of those who
were trained but not highly educated.
“We used to discuss the fact and its causes. _Vis inertia_
certainly had much to do with it. The Head-masters’ Conference
had passed resolutions in favour of training, but they had not
raised a finger to support the Training College intended to
supply them with masters. The head-mistresses, in larger
numbers, believed, but it was not always convenient to insist on
training as a necessary qualification in their intending
mistresses. How was this inertia to be overcome, unless an
enthusiastic belief could be awakened in the young intending
teachers?
“Such a belief was far from forthcoming. Indeed, our chief
stumbling-block lay in the distrust with which the ordinary
academic mind was apt to look on the ideal of training. At the
bottom of it lay, no doubt, a prejudice against the methods of
the elementary training colleges, and an unexamined fear that
all training must be more or less of that type. Otherwise it
seemed to be for the most part a vague distrust inarticulate,
unargumentative, but strong. On the other hand, there were
leaders of thought in the universities who believed that there
was a great work to be done in the development of educational
theory and practice. In witness of their faith, Cambridge had
not only instituted a teachers’ examination, but had established
courses of lectures on teaching which were at that time barely
attended.
“So the idea naturally shaped itself that training should be
carried out under University influences, that this would insure
for it the influence of the soundest theoretic ideas, and also
that it might benefit by subjection to the criticism of the
academic mind. A closer contact between the Training College and
the Women’s Colleges at Cambridge would tend certainly, we
thought, to better understanding and mutual adaptation. The
practical thing, then, to be done was to establish a Training
College for Women at Cambridge.
“Miss Clough, Mrs. Verrall, and Dr. James Ward were heartily in
favour of the establishment of such a college, and several other
Cambridge friends, including the present Bishop of Stepney, so
well known at Cambridge as Canon Browne, and Miss Welsh of
Girton, approved the proposal from the first. We held
preliminary consultations, Mrs. Verrall acting as secretary,
while Miss Buss representing the school-mistresses, and Dr. Ward
the University, formed a powerful combination of enthusiasm and
conviction in favour of the attempt. There were many
difficulties; we were not rich in money-bags, and everything
depended on finding the right person to act as principal. But
there was a student at Newnham who took the first place in the
Moral Science Tripos, known to Miss Clough as an able woman, to
Miss Beale as a gifted teacher, and to Dr. Ward as a talented
pupil, and the matter was settled by the acceptance of the
principalship by Miss E. P. Hughes in June, 1885. In the
September of that year, the college was opened in a few small
cottages near Newnham. A guarantee fund was formed, and Miss
Buss guaranteed £100. Students came, though of University
students but a few, and by the zealous economy and good
management of Miss Hughes the college paid its way. In 1887, it
was moved into better houses in Queen Anne’s Terrace, and this
year it has at last, after ten years, moved into suitable
college buildings. Miss Buss never ceased to take the keenest
interest in its success, though of late years she was not able
to take an active part. It will always be a matter of deep
regret to those of us who knew how dear its progress was to her
that she never even saw the new building. From time to time she
had hoped to pay another visit to Cambridge when she was
stronger in health.
“Referring to ‘Miss Buss’ earliest attempts to start the
training college,’ Dr. Ward writes saying how he remembers the
regularity of her attendance at the earlier meetings of the
committee, and ‘her anxiety to get Newnham and Girton
interested.’ She brought the scheme for the college before the
Head-mistress’ Association, secured their interest and an
arrangement by which a representative on the college council was
to be appointed by them. Miss Conolly for several years was the
representative.”
Miss Hughes adds some interesting memories of the help given by Miss
Buss and Miss Clough, as she says—
“One of the most useful parts of my education at Cambridge was
the opportunity of talking over this educational experiment with
these pioneers. I shall never forget their patience under the
difficulties that were always springing up, their wise foresight
to prevent such difficulties, their earnest desire not to make
unnecessary enemies, and, at the same time, their persistent
intention to carry out the experiment. I remember the wonderful
insight into character which Miss Buss showed, and how quick she
was to note the strength and value of each additional member of
the committee. She had her own views, clear and definite, and
for some of them she was ready to fight; but she was quite
reasonable and ready to be persuaded that the special conditions
of Cambridge required special arrangements. When a beginning at
last seemed possible my heart so failed me that I felt unfit for
the post, and had almost decided not to apply for it. Miss Buss
came from London to talk it over, and I then realized how much
her heart was set on the scheme, and how much she had thought
about it.... When we began, Miss Buss came often to see us,
keenly interested in all our doings and in the many and great
difficulties that tried even my optimism. I should certainly
have given up in despair but for her help and advice....
“I have found few persons, few women especially, who are capable
of seeing a subject in its right perspective, grasping its
fundamental points and being full of enthusiasm, but without
spending time and energy in elaborating its details. Miss Buss
had this unusual power to an unusual extent, and, in addition to
this, she had a strong interest in details when they were
brought before her notice. I was struck with the marked
difference between her treatment of work for which she was
responsible and that in which she was interested but not finally
responsible. In her own school she was not only interested in
every detail, but felt herself responsible for it. Sometimes,
indeed, those who loved her wished that she could have realized
that her own strength and energy were far more valuable to the
school than were the details on which these were spent. On the
other hand, I think one of the best lessons she ever taught me
was the vast importance of looking after every detail one’s
self. Her attitude towards our own college was quite different;
and, interested as she was in every detail, however small, she
always seemed to realize the two or three important points which
must never be lost sight of, and to be perfectly willing to
allow others to settle the detail. I mention this because it was
suggested to me when she helped to start this college that she
was so accustomed to be responsible for every detail in her own
large institution that she would probably wish to exercise the
same management in our college. Nothing could be further from
the truth, for she always knew the line beyond which help and
suggestion ceased to be real help....
“The college, however poor in one sense, is rich in memories of
her interest in it. She made so many visits in early days,
chatted with the students, sent us books and pictures, and loved
us and believed in us with a love and faith which will go far to
make us what she hoped we might become!
“What I owe to her personally I cannot put into words. Her
belief in me was a constant inspiration, and her love for me a
constant comfort. My life is infinitely richer because I have
known and loved her, and I am hoping to pay interest on the
heavy debt I owe her by holding out occasionally a helping hand
to other teachers.
“I often think that we cannot yet realize the vast difference it
has made to our development of secondary education for girls
that our pioneers were large-hearted, unselfish women like Miss
Buss, Miss Clough, and Miss Davies. We are passing on to new
times and new difficulties, having lost many of the old leaders,
but the memory of their wise words and brave deeds is still with
us, and I do not think that English teachers will ever forget
the life of Frances Mary Buss.”
* * * * *
NOTE.—At the opening of the new buildings of the Cambridge
Teachers’ College, by the Marquis of Ripon, on October 19, 1895,
fullest recognition was given by all the speakers to Miss Buss’
share in the origination of this work. The ceremony began by the
planting of trees to the memory of Miss Buss and of Miss Clough,
by the Rev. S. Buss and Miss B. A. Clough; followed by the “Hymn
of Work,” which has for motto—
“We work not for school, but for life;
We toil not for time, but for eternity.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER XIII.
GENERAL INTERESTS.
“Works are no more than animate faith and love.”
LONGFELLOW.
In spite of the heavy demands of her own special duties, Miss Buss found
time for much public work in which to use her large experience.
She always knew exactly what she was doing and what she intended to do.
In the expressive colloquialism, she was “all there,” and she was always
there. Whatever she knew she knew well, putting it in its own place,
ready for use. The half-knowledge, with its consequent mental vagueness,
that contents most of us was impossible to a mind so clear and strong.
And she knew her own limitations, never professing to go beyond. When we
remember how wonderfully vivid her imagination really was, we are
surprised that it could so be held in leash. In art she gave it free
play; and also in history—the story of human life which is the subject
of art—she could let herself go. We who knew her in Rome could never
question her power of imagination.
In Italy, she not only found but she used her wings. Elsewhere, her
imagination found fullest scope in glorifying common things; in seeing
through the commonplace, thus consecrating common duties, and calling
out the best and highest in common persons—possibly a form of genius
more rare than that which can turn out fine verse or fine pictures.
Here is a list of work which it overwhelms the average mortal merely to
contemplate. But wherever she found herself she worked, and nothing that
she undertook to do was left undone.
Miss Buss was a governor as well as founder of her own schools.
She was president and one of the founders of the
Head-mistresses’ Association.
She was on the council, and on three committees of the Teachers’
Guild, of which she was a founder.
She was _on the council_ of—
The Cheltenham Ladies’ College,
The Church Schools’ Company,
The Maria Grey Training College for Teachers,
The Cambridge Training College for Teachers,
The Royal Drawing College,
The Woman’s Branch of Swanley Horticultural College.
She was a _governor_ of—
University College, London,
Milton Mount College,
Aberdare Hall,
West Ham Girls’ School,
Grey Coat School, Westminster,
Sarah Bonnell School,
London School of Medicine, and was also on the
Committee of the National Health Society.
As well as an _associate_ of—
College for Working Women,
London Pupil Teachers’ Association,
University Association for Women Teachers,
Art for Schools Association, and of the
Somerville Club.
She was interested in—
The London Institution,
Governesses’ Benevolent Institution.
Foremost among later works must come the Teachers’ Guild, of which the
first origin is due to Miss Buss. Like most things undertaken for or by
women, it began on the strictly practical or economic side; though it
now embraces the highest ideals of educational possibilities. It is now
devoted to securing the best conditions on which the teacher can best
grow; but the first start had to deal with the question how the teacher
might live at all.
And as we found the germ of all the higher education for girls in the
“Report of the Governesses’ Benevolent Institution,” we find ourselves
going back to that Report for the origin of the Guild which aims at the
highest development of the teacher.
Governesses, as a class, come to poverty and dependence not from
extravagance or self-indulgence, but from sheer self-sacrifice, in
unselfish devotion to the claims of relatives, and to no class is thrift
more difficult. The effort to make it possible was from the first one of
the leading impulses of Miss Buss’ work. As early as 1866, a letter from
Dr. Hodgson shows that she had then discussed the subject with him—
... “You may remember the tenor of my remarks in Camden Street
on the ‘Reports of the Governesses’ Benevolent Institution.’
When I spoke of _saving for one’s self_, I wished merely to
give, for completeness’ sake, the other side of your phrase
‘saving _from our friends_.’ The duty and advantage of saving
are common to both sexes. Individual cases might be dealt with,
or judged, according to circumstances; but the general doctrine
must be preached without reserve.
“It would be much nearer my notion to say: ‘Earn sixpence a day
(if you cannot earn more), and save out of it a _penny_, or, if
that be not possible, then a _halfpenny_, or if that be not
possible, then a _farthing_. In any amount, however small, let
the claims of the future be recognized.... Let the general duty
and wisdom of saving be taught and recognized. Then let the
needful allowances be made in individual cases. It may be more
meritorious, because more difficult, for one person to save £5
than for another to save £500. Let each judge himself as he
would another.”
No subject was more constantly present to Miss Buss’ mind, but no
practical steps were taken till, on December 2, 1881, the Women’s
Education Union appointed a special committee to consider the question
of establishing a Teachers’ Provident Association, of which Miss Buss
was a member, with Mr. G. C. T. Bartley, Mr. Rowland Hamilton, and Mr.
Shaen; Mrs. Burbury acting as honorary secretary.
In 1882, a plan was submitted to the Head-mistresses’ Association, of
which Miss Buss thus writes to me—
“Our Provident Association is not yet started, but I do not
despair. A lady is at work getting up figures, and if all is
well in October, we shall go at it again. By ‘we’ I mean the
Association of Head-mistresses. We want a sensational article
for our Provident movement. Will you write it? I mean, we want
the fact of death in the workhouse, misery known to the Ladies’
Guild, etc., brought out.”
As member of one of the Relief Committees of the Working Ladies’ Guild—a
society founded by Lady Mary Feilding for the help of distressed
gentlewomen—I had heard much of the sufferings of governesses, and had
discussed with Miss Buss the best ways of giving relief. At her request,
I now wrote a paper on “Thrift for Teachers,” in which I suggested some
co-operation between the Ladies’ Guild and “_some possible Guild of
Teachers_.” This paper appeared in November, 1882, in Miss L. M.
Hubbard’s _Work and Leisure_, a magazine containing the germ of many now
important works. In August, 1881, Miss Hubbard had published a paper on
“Co-operation among Governesses,” which was followed, in December, by a
meeting to consider the scheme finally taking form as the “Women
Teachers’ Self-Help Society”; with a Provident Fund and Free Registry.
Miss Hubbard suggested printing off some copies of my paper, which Miss
Buss circulated among the School-mistresses’ and Head-mistresses’
Associations; but no immediate practical results followed, nor did
anything come of a consultation with Mr. Heller to consider amalgamation
with his Provident Association of Elementary Teachers.
It was not till December 1 that Miss Buss wrote—
“I think something might come of the notion of the ‘Guild.’ The
only thing is that it does not seem sufficiently definite and
practical.... We have secured the services of a very able woman,
Miss Beth Finlay, as lecturer on ‘Savings.’ She is ready to take
the matter up as soon as we shall have arrived at some
conclusion.”
On February 7, 1883, a small preliminary meeting was held in the Library
of the North London Collegiate School, of which Miss Buss writes on
January 26—
“I saw Miss Ward of the Training College on Wednesday, and find
that she is very anxious about a Provident Scheme. She also
thinks well of the Teachers’ Guild Movement. She suggests that
we should hold a very small meeting of a few earnest persons.
Will you be able to come, and suggest some names of those whom
you think we might ask?”
The ladies present at this meeting were Miss Buss, Miss Metcalfe, Miss
Agnes J. Ward, Miss Dunlop, Miss Hodge, Miss Rouquette, Miss Townsend,
the Misses Ridley. Some others were invited who were unable to be
present.
From the minutes taken on this occasion, I find that Miss Buss read a
report which had been presented to the Head-mistresses’ Association, and
discussion followed on each point of this report. It was finally agreed
that the Provident and the Aid Societies must be kept apart.
The name was changed to that of “Teachers’ Provident Guild.” A committee
was formed of the persons then present, and Miss Jenny Rundell was
proposed by Miss Ward as honorary secretary, with the address of the
Training College, then in Skinner Street.
On March 12, 1883, Miss Buss writes—
“At a committee meeting of the Head-mistresses’ Association held
last Thursday it was resolved to establish a Teachers’ Guild,
the objects of which were to be—
(1) To provide mutual help and sympathy.
(2) To maintain a high standard of moral and mental education.
(3) To encourage provision for sickness and old age, and to
found Homes of Rest and Associated Homes.
(4) To assist teachers in obtaining situations.”
This action was confirmed on March 16th, at a meeting of the
School-Mistresses’ Association, when Miss Agnes J. Ward read her paper
on the “Principles and Practice of Thrift among Teachers.” At this
meeting a sub-committee was formed to establish the Teachers’ Guild.
The Guild was definitely organized at the Conference of Head-mistresses,
held in June, 1883, at Croydon, when Miss Hadland, Head-mistress of
Milton Mount College, offered her services as honorary secretary, if the
purposes of the Guild might be widened by the omission of the word
“Provident.” Miss Hadland also secured the use of an office in the
Memorial Hall, Farringdon Street, lent by her friend the Rev. R. J.
Verrall. The clerical work was done at Milton Mount College, with the
assistance of the Rev. R. Guest.
A provisional committee met fortnightly, working out the constitution of
the Guild, till, on February 23, 1884, the inaugural meeting was held in
the rooms of the Society of Arts, with the Right Hon. A. J. Mundella in
the chair, and with an attendance of the leading educationalists, whose
interest had been excited in the new work.
At this meeting, Mr. Storr stated that he—
“thought it only right that the names should be given of the two
ladies to whom mainly this movement owes its initiative. One is
Miss Buss—not only the _doyenne_ of head-mistresses, but the
mother of us all—I mean of us ‘Brethren of the Guild.’ To Miss
Buss’ energy all the earlier results are due before the
accession of Miss Hadland as honorary secretary, of whom it may
be said that without her unwearied labours during these eight
months this meeting could not have been held.”
Miss Hadland resigned her post as honorary secretary to Mr. Jocelyn De
Morgan, who was appointed secretary, in the new rooms taken for the
Guild at 1, Adam Street, Adelphi. He was followed by Mr. Garrod, at 19,
Buckingham Street, and in the present office, 74, Gower Street.
With the appointment of Canon Percival as president of the Guild, Miss
Buss and Miss Hadland retired from public view, but for some time they
continued to exert a very strong influence. Miss Buss was especially
active in the appointment of the secretaries, making full inquiry before
proposing the candidate, as she had very high ideas of the
qualifications for this office. The value of the Guild in raising the
professional aspect of teaching soon became evident to her, and she
omitted nothing that could work to this end.
The same feeling for struggling teachers that led to the formation of
the Teachers’ Guild moved Miss Buss in the origination of the “Teachers’
Loan Society.” The idea itself seems to come from Miss Beale, who thus
refers to it in a letter to Miss Buss, dated November 26, 1882—
“I have not yet had time to give the loan system a fair trial,
but I have no doubt of its success.... I think there should be
such a society attached to every large school, and a small
number—say, a triumvirate—should administer the funds. We have
assisted five now.... I do hope something will be done to
establish some such system. It is so much better morally than
gifts and scholarships, as it makes the pupils think of their
responsibilities.”
Miss Buss enlisted Miss Ewart’s interest in the scheme, and a committee
was formed consisting at first of Miss Buss, Miss Ewart, Mrs.
Stair-Douglas, Mrs. Hertz, Mrs. Fitch, Mrs. Dockar-Drysdale, and myself.
Miss Ewart became honorary secretary, mainly supplying the _loan-fund_,
and to the present time has devoted herself to this work, proving
effectually that the “amateur” can be thoroughly business-like, and that
a very large amount of most useful work can be done in perfect silence,
known only to those who have reaped the benefit of it.
Every educational work seemed to enlist Miss Buss’ help, as we find
that, from 1865, she was a frequent visitor at the Working Women’s
College, founded by Miss Martin.
As early as 1869, Dr. Hodgson gauged Miss Buss’ powers, and determined
to use them in a sphere wider than her own work. He wrote to her as
follows—
“MY DEAR MISS BUSS,
“I have a great favour to ask from you, though it affects
your own sex more than it does me. I wish your consent to be
nominated on the Council of Preceptors. The meetings, as you
will observe from the card enclosed, are only eight in the year,
and all these need not be attended. But no lady has ever yet
been on the council, and some of us are determined to break
through the barrier of custom which obstructs the doorway left
open by the constitution of the council. You will have a large
and powerful support, and success is almost certain, even at the
first attempt.
“This will be a battle worth fighting. I have written to every
member of the council whom I have thought at all accessible to
reason, and _every_ answer is favourable. Now, I confidently
reckon on your _passive_ support. You are not required either to
labour, or to wait, at least beyond the 11th inst., when the
election will take place. Your consent is all that is needed,
and I am sure, for the sake of the principle involved, you will
not withhold it.”
“Dec. 16, 1869.
“You would see from the papers that you were elected on the
council. Though you come _after_ the three gentlemen on the
list, you came before them in the voting. You had fourteen
votes, each of them had only twelve.”
In 1871, apropos to a deputation from the College of Preceptors, Dr.
Hodgson again writes—
“MY DEAR MISS BUSS,
“I am very sorry that you are in such a chaos. I think it
extremely important that the claims of women to equality of
recognition in all education should be kept in view. They are
too apt to be forgotten by even those who are in principle
favourable, so inveterate is the _inequity_, _i.e._ iniquity, of
English practice in this respect. Your presence on the
deputation will be a valuable protest as regards both the
existence of the claims themselves and the fact of their being
recognized by educational bodies. The nail must be struck on the
head again, and again, and again. Wonderful has been the advance
already made, but the battle is very far from being already won.
“Yours ever truly,
“W. B. HODGSON.”
In 1873, Miss Buss sent me a letter from Mr. Christie, proposing to
elect her a Life-governor of University College, in which she adds—
“Could you write to Mr. Christie in such a way as to answer his
question about my ‘services to education’?
“I cannot well see my way to a fair estimate of my own work. At
all events, it is easier for some one else to estimate it for
me.”
Her own letter to Mr. Christie may be given—
“202, Camden Road, Dec. 5, 1873.
“DEAR MR. CHRISTIE,
“I fully see the principle you desire to assert by
proposing me as a Life-governor of University College, and I
shall be very grateful, not only for the honour conferred on me,
if I am elected, but also for the great impetus which would be
given to women’s education, by such a recognition. University
College has been, of late years, so liberal to women that I
trust the opposition to such a course as you propose would be
less than formerly.
“I send you a pamphlet containing a sketch of the origin of our
two schools, but as we have made much progress since it was
written, and it is difficult for me to put a fair estimate on my
own share of the success, I have asked one of our lady trustees
to give you an estimate. I am sure you will shortly hear from
her.
“With many thanks,
“Believe me,
“FRANCES M. BUSS.”
At the end of 1894, when Lord Reay “deplored the loss of many
distinguished members of the college,” Miss Buss’ name appears in a very
notable list, including Lord Bowen, Lord Hannen, Sir Henry Layard,
Professor Henry Morley, Sir J. R. Seeley, and Professor Romanes.
In early days, the pressure of her own work, and in later days, the
state of her health, often prevented Miss Buss from appearing in public.
Here are two out of many invitations declined with regret on this
account—
“Faversham, Sept. 24, 1871.
“DEAR MISS BUSS,
“I begged Miss Ridley to tell you that I had not ventured
to express our very great wish that you might be present at the
Education Conference at Norwich, but I take courage now to ask,
if it is impossible for you to go, whether you would send any
written message or statement referring to any point you most
wish to draw attention to yourself. Miss Beale has sent us a
most excellent paper, giving her views on School Organization in
the form of an account of her college and its work. We hope
there will be an earnest discussion of educational topics, and
if you would take part in it by writing, if not in person, you
would greatly enhance the value of the conference. I do not know
if Miss Ridley or Miss Gurney is going, but, _faute de mieux_, I
need not say how glad I should be to read any communication of
yours.
“I do not yet know on what day our conference is to be. It will
form part of the work of the Education Section of the congress.
“Ever truly yours,
“EMILY A. SHIRREFF.”
“Queen’s College, Oxford,
“July 7, 1893.
“MY DEAR MISS BUSS,
“I am desired by the committee appointed to carry out the
arrangements for the Conference on Secondary Education to
request you to be so kind as to prepare and read, or cause to be
read, the paper on Schools for Girls (Higher and Second Grade)
at the first session....
“My wife and I will be very much pleased if you will give us the
pleasure of entertaining you during such time as you may be in
Oxford during the conference.
“I am,
“Yours very truly,
“J. R. MAGRATH.”
Mrs. Bryant, who represented her on this occasion, speaks of the great
regret felt by Miss Buss in declining what would have been a crowning
pleasure in her life. She could, however, take a very real satisfaction
in the enjoyment of her substitute. Still more to be regretted was her
inability to take her place on the Second Royal Commission of Inquiry
into Secondary Education, a place filled, in consequence, by Mrs.
Bryant.
The last invitation for public work that she was able to accept was from
Mrs. Fawcett—
“_Royal Commission on Women’s Work._
“Education Sub-committee, 2, Gower Street,
“July 18, 1892.
“DEAR MISS BUSS,
“The Education Sub-committee met here on Thursday last,
and it was unanimously resolved to beg you to become a member of
it. We do not meet very often, and do not propose to meet now
till after the holidays. We would endeavour to suit the day and
time to your convenience, if you are good enough to consent to
join us.
“The present members of the committee are myself, Miss M.
Gurney, Miss Kingsley, Miss Louisa Stevenson, Miss Flora
Stevenson, Miss R. Davenport-Hill, and Miss Tod.
“Up to the present we have had only two meetings, and if you are
good enough to join us, I would send you up our minutes, that
you may see what our short history has been. We should all
greatly value your counsel and co-operation. If there are any
questions you would like to ask as to the work of the
sub-committee I shall be very pleased to come and see you at any
time convenient to yourself next Saturday.
“Yours very truly,
“M. G. FAWCETT.”
This sub-committee received from the Royal Commission £100 to send a
representative to report on American education, as shown at Chicago and
elsewhere, and appointed Miss Hughes of the Cambridge Training College
for Teachers. Five other ladies went with Gilchrist Scholarships for the
same sum, and eight with Scholarships from the City Companies of fifty
guineas each. Among the latter was Miss Sara A. Burstall, an old pupil
and present member of the staff of the North London Collegiate School
for Girls.
The work connected with this committee was very pleasant to Miss Buss,
and she was able to attend many of the meetings. She was also able to be
at the concluding reception, when Mrs. Fawcett and Miss Gurney
entertained those who had taken part in it. This was the last public
occasion on which Miss Buss was present, but Miss Gurney was struck with
her enjoyment and energy, in spite of her too-evident failure in health.
In medical education for women she was from the first full of interest,
as well as in the allied branch of trained nursing. There is some
animated correspondence with Mrs. Grey, in which the question of women
medical inspectors of the girls’ gymnasiums is discussed, Mrs. Grey not
seeing her way to it in the Company’s schools. But, as soon as it was
possible, Miss Buss had secured this supervision, of so much value in
the case of delicate girls. Miss Julia Cock, M.D., now holds the post at
first occupied by Mrs. Hoggan, M.D.
Mrs. Garrett-Anderson, M.D., was for several years a member of the
governing body of the North London Collegiate Schools for Girls, elected
as one of the representatives of the Brewers’ Company. She pays
affectionate tribute to the memory of a friend of many years, as she
says—
“There are very few people whose memory I would wish so much to
honour as I do Miss Buss’, and it is a real distress to me not
to be free to be present on Monday.
“It is difficult to say how much all who care for the uplifting
of women owe to her, both as a pioneer and in her splendid work
as a school-mistress. I hope and believe that her name will long
be cherished and honoured.”
Mrs. Thorne, also among medical pioneers, speaks strongly too—
“She has been such a good friend to women that all will feel her
loss, more particularly those who had the privilege of her
personal friendship. From time to time, in the course of the
past fifty years, I have been in occasional contact with her,
and, though so many had far greater claims upon her interest
than I, I always knew that I could turn to her as a good friend
if necessary. She was one of the _earliest_ supporters of the
medical education of women, and was one of the governors of the
London School of Medicine for Women.”
The question of the employment of women was one that touched Miss Buss
more closely than any other, since the needs of women was the very
mainspring of her efforts in education. Any opening that would attract
the girls not fitted for teaching was sure of her support. Here is a
note, dated March 11, 1875, of interest at the present date—
“A new department is about to be created in the Post-office. It
is to consist entirely of ladies by birth and education, who
will have to pass an examination in (1) handwriting and
orthography, (2) English, (3) arithmetic, and (4) geography.
Thirty ladies are to be nominated as quickly as possible, out of
whom _ten_ will be selected as first-class clerks, with a
beginning salary of £80 per annum.
“Would this be of the least use to your friend? If so, there is
no time to be lost.”
The placing of women on the School Board and on Boards of Guardians
enlisted most active co-operation from Miss Buss from the earliest days
of such movements. In her busiest times she could always arrange for a
drawing-room meeting, and much canvassing work was arranged at Myra
Lodge, on the occasion of the first School Board elections. Every one
who can remember those days will recall the excitement and enthusiasm
with which she greeted the arrival of the post-card with the
announcement—
Garrett 47,558
Huxley 13,494
The elections of Miss Davies, Miss Chessar, Miss Garrett, and Mrs.
Maitland on the School Board, and of Lady Lothian, Miss Andrews, and
Miss Lidgett on the St. Pancras Board of Guardians, were events that
made the “seventies” stirring times for women. And in this stir Miss
Buss came very much to the front. She never could make a speech in
public herself, but she was the cause of many speeches that were made
then and since then.
Like so many of the most thoughtful women-leaders, Miss Buss placed the
Suffrage Question in the forefront of things likely to help the position
and moral power of women. She saw no discrepancy between the possession
of a vote and the development of the domestic virtues; and she believed
that the possession of power would tend to make women worthy to use it,
in opposition to the other view that it may be well to educate them for
this use before giving it. We used often to argue this matter, as I
inclined to the latter view, though I could not be blind to the utter
absurdity of refusing to such women as Frances Mary Buss the power given
to the most illiterate or debased peasant.
In politics, Miss Buss was led by her heart, as most women will be to
the end of time, being the missing factor that will, in the good days
coming, redeem and raise political life from its present depths. This
woman was inevitably on the side of Progress and Reform, and being
herself too wise to even imagine unwisdom, might easily have been led
too far where her sympathies were touched; as, for example, on the Home
Rule question, into which she threw herself with all the ardour with
which in her youth she had followed the Anti-Slavery movement in
America, and, later in life, the War of Italian Unity.
Here is a little story told by one of her friends, which is very
characteristic—
“She liked us for being in favour of Home Rule for Ireland. One
night, at Myra Lodge, she sounded me on my political views. I
tried to evade her questions, and said I feared my views would
be unpalatable to her (she looked, to my thinking, like a Tory).
When, after much pressure, I said, to show how bad I was, ‘Well,
Miss Buss, if you must know, then I approve of Home Rule!’ she
skipped over the room like a girl of seventeen, to Mrs. Bryant,
and said, in delighted tones, ‘Mrs. Bryant, Mr. —— is a Home
Ruler!’ and brought her over to me. It was delightful to see her
pleasure!”
It was _not_ delightful to refuse her that pleasure by not responding
sufficiently to her enthusiasm, much as I, for one, would have liked to
do so. But it made no difference whether one quite said as she did, or
not; for she might have suggested those words of George Eliot’s: “That
seems to me very great and noble—the power of respecting a feeling one
does not share or understand.” In all discussions it was hers “gently to
hear, kindly to judge.” For real tolerance it would have been as
difficult to match her as in the strength and vigour with which she
maintained her own ground. That she was loyal to England if tender to
Ireland her words to her nephew show, when she says—
“Sept. 24, 1891.
“Are you coming with your choir to the Naval Exhibition? Naval
recruiting has gone up twenty per cent. since the opening of
this exhibition! I have paid a second visit, and am more than
ever proud and thankful to be an Englishwoman. We are, indeed—in
spite of our many sins—a great nation, the greatest on earth.”
Whilst firmly centred at home, her sympathies still widened out to all
the world. Miss E. A. Manning writes on this point—
“As illustrating the wide sympathies of Miss Buss outside her
effective and concentrated work, I am glad to have the
opportunity of referring to the friendly interest she showed in
regard to the visits to this country of students from India. To
such as desired to see the working of the North London
Collegiate School she gave warm welcome; and, whenever she was
able, she attended the _soirées_ of the National Indian
Association, entering with a most kindly spirit into their
object, that of promoting intercourse and mutual knowledge
between individuals of different races. Naturally the progress
of Indian women especially attracted her attention, and she
liked to take occasions of bringing it to the notice of her
pupils. In 1885 Miss Buss (with the permission of the governors
of the school) arranged for a meeting, in the Great Hall, of the
National Indian Association, where Mr. M. M. Bhownaggree,
C.I.E., read a comprehensive paper on the ‘Conditions and
Prospects of the Education of Indian Women,’ and we were
afterwards hospitably entertained by her in the gymnasium. At a
later date I gave an address at an ‘old pupils’ meeting’ upon
‘Home Life and Customs in India.’
“I may add that when Mr. Soubramanyam, of Madras, now a very
successful barrister, came to England, accompanied by his wife
(who was almost the first Indian lady to venture on such an
undertaking), Miss Buss made their acquaintance, and they have
always remembered her friendly attentions during their three
years’ stay here. The fact that many of her pupils had taken up
medical and educational work in India, and had temporarily
settled there, tended to strengthen her interest in the
conditions of life in that country; but I was constantly struck
by her full, free recognition of all efforts for good, even
though she had not time nor opportunity to enter into
the practical details of such efforts. Her sympathetic
encouragement, as well as her example, inspired many with
hopefulness and persistence.”
She was greatly interested in the Peace Society, and did much to promote
the formation of a woman’s auxiliary of that society, first suggested at
a meeting held on June 2, 1873, at the house of my father, when Mrs.
Julia Ward Howe, of Boston, spoke, with Professor J. R. Seeley in the
chair. My father had offered a prize of £5 for the best essay written by
Miss Buss’ pupils, and won by Miss Edith Kemp.
In the following year, Miss Buss was at home, on June 2, “to the friends
of the Woman’s Peace Movement,” and a paper was read by Miss Bennett,
“On the Best Way for Women to use their Influence to prevent War.” A
resolution was adopted to the effect that “the meeting forms itself into
a local committee in connection with (or in support of) the Peace
Society.”
In reference to this meeting, Miss Buss has written—
“We certainly should form ourselves into a branch committee, and
local, as Mrs. Southey (the honorary secretary) lives on the
other side of the water. If many were formed, we might have a
grand meeting of all the branches, once a year, at St. James’
Hall.
“I think it better to strengthen existing organizations than to
start new ones. I like your leaflet.”
The meetings of the branch went on for several years, and then, for want
of support, it came to an end.
Temperance was another subject in which she took increasing interest, as
it came more directly before her in the work of the Rev. Septimus Buss
and his energetic wife, so well known in Shoreditch. Miss Buss became
practically an abstainer, and the subject was brought before the old
pupils on more than one occasion. Miss Frances Willard received an
enthusiastic welcome at one of these meetings, and a note to her shows
the feeling of the head-mistress—
“Myra Lodge, Jan., 1893.
“DEAR MISS WILLARD,
“As one of the many Englishwomen who have long known and
admired your great work in the United States, I send you a
hearty greeting.
“I felt it a great privilege to be personally introduced to you,
and only regret that the necessity of rest during the holidays
has prevented me from attending some of the large meetings
called to do honour to you as a teacher and a leader in the
great cause of temperance.
“Believe me,
“Very faithfully yours,
“FRANCES M. BUSS.”
From the nature of her own work, Miss Buss was unable to take any active
part in the work of Mrs. Josephine Butler, Miss Ellice Hopkins and
others, for the promotion of a higher standard of morals; but her
sympathy was with every wise effort in this direction, and, in several
instances, when her head disapproved the means used, her heart went out
to the sufferer from rash but well-meant endeavours. I can recall the
intense feeling with which she told me of the direct action of the Queen
in relation to a well-known case of this kind. Of such sympathy Mrs.
Percy Bunting speaks warmly—
“How much she has done in her life, and with how true and loyal
a spirit! She has always been so high in tone, and courageous,
and generous-hearted, and warm in friendship. She has always
lived a noble life, and we women owe her in particular a debt of
gratitude. She has taken a broad view of what was needed, and
has used her influence all along the line, as it were, for the
welfare of women.
“And now she rests in God. Renewed and enlarged, she will in
some way realize what she hoped and prayed for here. I think her
example and influence have left a good harvest, as it is. As
women look back, they will always feel that she was one who
helped their cause in the days of its unpopularity. And she has
her reward.”
All workers among the poor know her helpfulness, and strong testimony
comes especially from the clergy of Holy Trinity. But the best must
always remain untold, as being associated with the deepest life of those
helped. In London, in the midst of her busy life, she could not give
much of personal effort or time to the very poor, though she could and
did give sympathy, as well as substantial help, without stint. But at
Boscombe she could use her leisure as she pleased, and Miss Edwards, who
during her long residence with her knew her life intimately, gives us a
little glimpse of her there—
“It is largely owing to the fact that Miss Buss lived up to what
she taught, morally and spiritually, that she has been such a
power in so many hundreds of lives. She was so generous and
kind-hearted, always ready to help others to help themselves. At
her country cottage she would regularly send, and occasionally
take with her own hands, relief in various forms to those who
needed it.”
A story of her consideration for her old cabman has already been given,
but a very recent sequel may be added, as showing how Downes’ own
feeling went on after his death to his successor, who recently took the
opportunity, in recognizing an old “Myra girl,” to lead up to a talk
about Miss Buss, ending by his saying, “They do say there’s as good fish
in the sea as ever came out of it, but we shall wait long enough for
another like _that_!”
Also, at the funeral, an old pupil, who could not get into the church
for the press, heard one of the crowd remark, “If all funerals were like
this, every one could not be buried!” To which a poor woman responded,
“If everybody was as good as that good woman, earth would be heaven, and
no one would need to be buried!”
In addition to all that she did accomplish Miss Buss had dreams that
failed of realization for want of time and strength. Here is one, of
which we often talked, though circumstances were too strong against our
action in the matter—
“When you and I can have a talk, I want to suggest to you the
beginning, on a small scale, of an orphanage, like Miss
Haddon’s. You and J. might adopt it? I should want you to let me
throw the force of our school into it, making clothes, helping
the outfits, finding places, etc. Surely, too, we could find
some volunteer teachers among the old pupils? We might always
notice it in our magazine, too, and so make friends for it. I
feel honestly that, at present, _I_ could not undertake the
responsibility, though I would help as much as I could.
“What say you? Do not set it aside without thought. You and your
parents do so much already that it would only be concentrating
your efforts. A little house and a good matron are wanted. I
think my dear cousin would take an interest in it, and let the
girls have some training, as servants, in my house.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
BOOK III.
LATER YEARS.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER I.
IN THE HOLIDAYS.
“The habit of viewing things cheerfully, and of thinking about
life hopefully, may be made to grow up in us, like any other
habit.”
Those who never saw Miss Buss in real holiday mood could not be said to
know her at all. As an educationalist she was instructive, admirable,
awe-inspiring; but as a friend and companion attractive, captivating,
lovable. She talked “education” where she thought her hearers were
interested, and this subject always interested herself. Also, she often
went on little educational missions of advice or instruction, and then
poured out of her full stores very freely. But such occasions were not
holidays. When she took holiday, she took it thoroughly, and those who
joined her holiday parties all speak of them as Miss Hickey speaks of
one which we enjoyed together—
“I had met Miss Buss before, but the first time I really knew
her was when we spent that Christmas at Clifton with her and you
and Mrs. Bryant and Miss Emma Elford and Mr. Frank Buss. And
since then I have even felt that no one could have truly known
her who had never been with her ‘out of school,’ and I have been
very glad to have then laid the foundation of a true friendship
with so great and noble a woman.
“Most people know of her remarkable power as an organizer; of
her intense interest in her work; of her high conscientiousness;
of her openness to new ideas, and readiness to give a fair test
to new methods; but few people are aware of the power she had of
throwing off the school-mistress, and of not only entering into
interests completely apart from educational ones, but of
entering into them with an unconsciousness of her position, and
an ignoring of what she had done.”
This stay at Clifton was memorable to me in my discovery of Miss Buss
_as a housekeeper_. She managed for all the party—indeed, I do not think
any one of us could possibly have ventured on arrangements or other
management while she was there to do it. Her readiness, skill, and
economy made a deep impression on us.
On another occasion, years later, she came as our guest to my sister and
myself at Torquay. Up to Christmas we had revelled in sunshine, driving
every day in an open carriage, and to this we invited her; also choosing
for her the room with the finest view. But she came for a week of fog,
such (so we were told) as Torquay had never before known. We had one or
two misty drives, and the view was rarely visible. But she took it as it
came with placid sweetness, working, reading, or talking, and was the
least exacting guest we had ever known. And, afterwards, she could only
recall the fact of complete restfulness, forgetting that there had been
a fog.
Here is a note by Miss Crane to the same effect—
“Twice we all joined her summer holiday—once at La Bourboule,
and another time at Schlangenbad. I remember how she used to
enter into the pleasure and fun of our little afternoon
teaparties, given alternately by her party and ours, each vying
with the other in making the most of our limited paraphernalia.
And how she enjoyed the German custom of taking meals _al
fresco_ on every possible occasion, in spite of gnats and other
buzzing insects! She was always quick to see and enter into fun,
taking pains to enlighten those whose perceptions were less
keen. Her hearty laugh filled one with joy.”
The same thing is given in greater detail by Miss Bird, who says—
“I had known Miss Buss for years, and always felt attracted to
her, but I never knew her in her unreserved moods until that
visit to Kissingen, in 1882. We were all up in the morning
betimes, and used to meet on the Parade to drink the waters.
There were some wonderful bread-stalls, with an astonishing
variety of fancy breads and innocent cakes, where we bought
bread for our breakfast, and also laid in a stock for afternoon
tea. We were a party of eight, and we used to take turns in
giving each other tea. When it came to Miss Buss’ turn to
entertain, she used to take pains to select her cakes, that we
all felt eclipsed. We called her ‘ostentatious,’ and ‘vulgar,’
and ‘low,’ and she rippled with merriment, and seemed to enjoy
being treated as an ordinary human being. She was taking ‘mud
baths’—that look as formidable and ugly as they sound—a sort of
peat mixture that is supposed to draw from the body all its
aches and pains. I had seen in a window the picture of a woman
emerging from her ‘mud,’ and when Miss Buss was fractious, and
made excuses for not joining in the light frivolities of the
place, I used to say, ‘Well, if you refuse, I will post that
picture to the College to be exhibited, and the pupils will then
see the degradation of Miss Buss!’ This threat acted like magic,
and, laughing heartily, she used to comply. She grew bright and
light-hearted, and contributed her full share of amusing
stories.”
Miss E. P. Hughes records another of these times of relaxation—
“I spent a Christmas holiday with her at Cannes. She knew that I
had travelled little at that time, and she stopped at Avignon,
Nîmes, and Arles, to show me some of the old Roman antiquities.
Her energy and intense interest in everything was simply
wonderful. I had chiefly seen the educational side of her life
before this, and it was a revelation to me that she knew so much
and cared so much for other things. I am a fairly good traveller
myself, and keen about seeing new places, but I confess myself
completely beaten over and over again. I do not think that many
people realize the enormous amount of work she got through, so
much of it being unknown except to a few.... She was always
ready to enjoy a laugh. I can see her now, sitting in the great
amphitheatre at Nîmes, enjoying my discomfiture when I
discovered that, through my ignorance of South French _patois_,
I had mistaken our guide’s description of a Sunday bull-fight
for a meeting of the Salvation Army! At Arles I was severely
bitten by the love of Roman antiquities, and while I was
expressing this, in very Celtic fashion, Miss Buss said she must
take me to Rome some day, and laughingly gave me permission to
be as mad as I liked.
“I am glad to remember how happy she was at Cannes, how keenly
she noticed all the beauties of nature, how warmly she enjoyed
our delight in what was new to us, how sweetly gracious she was
to acquaintances in the hotel. I learnt then for the first time
to know what a wonderful power of description she had, as she
told me about her visits to Italy, and much about modern Italian
history, describing several eventful scenes witnessed by
herself. I can see the pictures vividly now which she painted in
words. I remember being surprised at the extent of her reading,
and then realized that she herself was so humble that, until one
knew her well, one was apt to underrate her.”
Miss Buss’ intimates all fell into the habit of keeping for her
joke-book—a book from which she loved to read on any possible
occasion—any choice bit of wit or humour, to reap double pleasure in so
sharing it. She had that strong sense of the ridiculous which so often
goes with the keenly sensitive temperament, and which is so essential to
perfect balance of character. Without this quick perception of the
incongruous there must be a want of true perspective in life, with
failure in the right adjustment of the claims of self and of others.
Very great work can scarcely be done without this gift, since of all
others it most tends to complete sanity—to the sound mind, if not to the
sound body—without which no greatest work is ever done. The intense
temperament, lacking this guiding sense, is almost certain to show some
warp or twist fatal to the finest achievement.
To this most helpful power of turning from grave to gay Miss Buss
certainly owed much of her power of sustained work. At the end of a
term, she was able, as she so often said, “to lock all her worries up in
a drawer, and leave them there.” She then gave herself up to her holiday
with all her strength, enjoying with keen zest all new places and
persons, and returning from her travels rested and refreshed. It is true
that her notion of rest differed not a little from that of average
mortals, who sometimes felt it something of a strain to keep pace with
energy so inexhaustible. She would beguile a long railway journey with
some stiff reading—very much of her reading was done in railway
carriages—and, on reaching her destination, after a few hours’ sleep _en
route_, be quite fresh for a day’s sight-seeing, in which little was
left unseen that merited notice. She lived to the full in the present
moment, and thus made the most of life, having learnt to leave the past
behind her, and to wait in hope for the future.
Several members of the staff speak with the same interest of the holiday
parties, and of the value attached by Miss Buss to the complete change
of thought given by foreign travel, quoting her frequent saying: “Do not
run in one groove!” as she exhorted her young teachers “to save up for a
trip abroad.”[19] She planned and arranged parties in France, Germany,
and Italy, for her teachers and their friends, where they might take
language lessons part of their time, and for the rest, go on expeditions
for “thorough” sight-seeing. And here, Miss Elford adds—
Footnote 19:
Miss Hughes speaks to this point: “On two occasions I went with her to
see some famous Roman schools, as well as by her advice to Naples, to
see the wonderful school of Madame du Portugal. It was a great
pleasure to accompany her; she saw so much, cared so much, and
compared so admirably what she saw with other schools elsewhere, and
she was so careful to utilize what she saw and heard. She was always
anxious to help teachers to visit the schools of other countries, and
did much to stir in me a great interest in foreign education. I
believe she first started the idea of travelling scholarships for
teachers, and she felt great interest in the Gilchrist Scholarship
when it was founded.”
“Miss Buss was a delightful companion. I visited many places in
France, Switzerland, and Italy with her, and she knew the
history of every city and town. A stay of three weeks in the
Maderanerthal will never be forgotten, as she was able to enter
into all our expeditions.
“The young always—men or women—were attracted by her
vivaciousness of manner and her delightful talk, so that our
evenings in the hotel were bright and cheerful, though no one
knew who she was till after her departure.”
She always became quite naturally the centre of any circle. I remember
one day, when she and I were staying at Ben Rhydding, we were in a
corner of an almost deserted reading-room, and she began to talk in a
low tone about the book she was reading. It was not long before the
nearest reader laid down his book and came nearer, to find appreciative
listeners to his good stories of Ruskin—whose pupil he had been—and of
other notabilities, as he and Miss Buss exchanged many an anecdote and
_bon-mot_ then crisp and new, though since worn threadbare. There was no
more reading that morning, every one who came in being very willing to
join the laughing circle. Many interesting persons came and went during
our stay at Ben Rhydding, and it was curious to note how soon they found
her out, and how eagerly all gathered round to join in the talks which
she set going. She enjoyed it, too, as she writes of it to her sister—
“The crowds of people who know me in London wear me out, and I
confess that in the holidays I do not want to make acquaintance
recklessly. In a house like this there is no end to them, and I
have literally no more time to myself than I get at home. Still,
the experience is pleasant, and worth having, especially for
Frank. Some day you must share it with me. It is a comfort to be
without household cares, and a place like this gives one plenty
of opportunity of studying life.”
In summer she generally went abroad, and her letters give very graphic
accounts of her experiences. There is a very full description of Fécamp,
in particular, most interesting, if space would allow. And also many
peeps at German towns. Miss Crane tells how Miss Buss stopped on her way
from La Bourboule to collect all the facts to be found in Orleans, for
her lecture on Joan of Arc, afterwards given to girls; and Mrs. Offord,
in speaking of the lecture, shows how, at that remote date, Miss Buss
anticipated the present cult of the Maid, setting her in the place now
accorded by a repentant country.
The entire change of life abroad made it very pleasant to Miss Buss.
From Berlin she writes, in 1882—
“Our pleasant holiday is coming to an end! Like Sep, I seem to
revive when out of my own country. Yet I would not change
countries, if I could. Exchange climates? yes; but country? no,
no, a hundred times no! I like to be able to kill myself, if I
choose, by going across a road at my own will, instead of being
taken care of by watchful police and soldiers at every turn. It
is dreadful for a country to be over-governed, and that is the
case with all the German towns I have seen, so far. We got here
last night late; the Crown Prince and Princess were in our
carriage (Frank and I started with Sara Bernhardt on her
wedding-night!). At every point there are soldiers. The whole
place bristles with the detestable military spirit; horrible
war-pictures are on the walls of the galleries, and military
trophies are everywhere.... I fear Prussia will have to pay—like
France—largely for her ‘glory.’”
But a volume might be made from her letters in her frequent journeys at
home and abroad. She knew her native land well, but wrote less about it.
A few extracts may be given, especially of a visit to Charlotte Brontë’s
home, during our stay at Ben Rhydding.
Miss Buss had a very keen love of colour, and to her the total absence
of everything but dull drab in Haworth was specially depressing. Houses,
stone walls instead of hedges, flat tombstones so thick that no blade of
grass could grow between them, all of this same lifeless drab, give an
effect of singular desolation. The Parsonage, with its unbroken walls,
in which were set flat windows, and with its roof of slate, closely
adjoins the dreary churchyard. The only outlet for those passionate
young lives must have been in the blue of the sky and in the changing
tints of the expanse of moorland stretching into the far distance.
But it is of the church that Miss Buss has most to say in her notes of
the day—
“August 18, 1879.
“A party of seven started at eleven, in a waggonette, for
Haworth, a drive of eighteen miles through several villages and
the town of Keighley. Haworth (pronounced _Horth_) consists of
one long, straggling street, frightfully steep, so that one can
neither drive up nor down, but must walk.
“We went to the Black Bull for lunch, and then visited the
church and churchyard. Oh, what an abomination the church is! It
is very old, dating from a _very_ early period. It has only two
naves, and no chancel, nor transept, nor anything to break its
hideous straightness. Where the communion-table stands is a
window, small, and, on both sides, another window, very large.
High, worm-eaten, rotten pews, a deep gallery at one end, and on
one side, and broken or worm-eaten beams everywhere; narrow
seats, on which it is impossible to sit; no ventilation, the
whole place reeking with the accumulated foul air of centuries.
Such is Haworth Church!
“Charlotte Brontë died twenty-five years ago—in 1855. In her
time the organ stood over the communion-table, and over the
rectory-pew! It seems impossible, but this is a fact. The
successor to Mr. Brontë has moved the organ into the side
gallery, and has taken away the pew, to leave room for some
benches for the choir. In this church Grimshaw, Wesley, and
Whitfield preached.
“We, of course, saw Charlotte Brontë’s wedding-register. We
wandered round the parsonage, which has been enlarged since the
time of the Brontës; we walked behind the house on the moors,
and entered the school where she and her sisters taught.
“All the houses are built of stone, and look cold and grey.
Hundreds of English-speaking people visit the place yearly,
through the interest in the home of those remarkable women, the
Brontës, and yet the church is to be pulled down in three weeks’
time. It seems a pity that no one can be found to build a new
church, and let the old one be preserved that we and our
successors may see how and in what places our fathers
worshipped.... Poor Charlotte Brontë! After seeing the place,
one understands how infinitely sad life must have been in it.”
In striking contrast with this desolate scene was another experience,
when we spent a few very pleasant days in the last home of George Eliot,
at Witley, which had been taken by our friend Mr. Neate. Miss Buss
writes to her cousin—
“‘Daniel Deronda’ was written in her boudoir, now turned into a
spare bedroom, in which I slept. What a crowd of thoughts come
into one’s mind as one stands in that particular room. If walls
could speak!
“The grounds are 3½ acres, so they are extensive enough to
afford variety. The house stands on the top of a hill,
surrounded by trees and shrubs. The sun is glorifying
everything, and the distant landscape reminds me of one of the
lower valleys in Switzerland. There are hills on hills, low, of
course, in elevation, but making the view very diversified.
“Within a short distance lives Birket Foster, and nearer still
that charming water-colour painter, Mrs. Allingham.
“But my mind is full of George Eliot, her books, her life, her
struggles, aspirations——
“The carriage is here for a drive, so I have to conclude
abruptly.”
Here is a letter telling of one of her summer trips—the meeting alluded
to being that first important interview with the Endowed Schools
Commission—
“Harwich, Aug. 8, 1873.
“MY DEAR ALFRED AND LÉONIE,
“The sea is rolling in before my window; except for that
pleasant sound, nothing else can be heard! The sun is shining on
the opposite coast of the river Orwell, while on my right
stretches out the German Ocean.
“Having leisure before service, and again, as I hope, _after_
it, what better can I do with it than write a little
acknowledgment of your loving letters....
“I left home last Thursday, met Sep at Kelvedon, stayed there
till Saturday. The doctor, father, and I drove to Colchester,
thence to Manningtree and _here_, where we are planted for a
week. On Monday I go by train (the father and uncle drive up,
taking three days), attend the meeting on Tuesday, and on
Wednesday start for Dover, Ostend, and Brussels, where Sep
will meet us. Miss Jeanie Ridley travels with us. On Saturday
week Uncle Henry joins me in Brussels, and we go on to
Cologne, thence sleeping at Mayence, and going next morning to
Homburg, that I may, for the first and last time, see the
gambling-tables. They are to be closed this year. At
Heidelberg Miss J. Ridley leaves us, to remain with her
friends there, and we go on to Zurich, over the Splügen,
returning by Strasburg and Paris.
“This route will take us to Venice by way of the Brenner Pass,
between Munich and Verona.
“My dear love to you all. I hope our Charlie boy is having some
_riding_. A kiss to him and the girls from
“Your loving _sister_.”
At Heidelberg the party remained a few days, seeing something of the
country, through the kindness of my sister’s friends, who lived in an
old “schloss” outside the town. During this journey my sister first
became really acquainted with Miss Buss, who wrote afterwards to me—
“I learned to care a good deal for your ‘child,’ and soon—well,
not too soon—found out how much lay beneath that excessive
reserve. Her _flashes_ were very interesting to me, but my
uncle’s companionship made it impossible for us to fuse, as you
and I did in Edinburgh.”
In later years, a course of waters at a German _bad_ became a necessity,
and the letters give sketches of Spa, Ems, Kreuznach, Carlsbad, etc.,
which may be summed up, in brief, in extracts which also show the writer
in relation to her own people—
“Kissingen, Aug. 20, 1885.
“MEIN THEUERSTER, ALLERLIEBSTER FRANZ,
“Ich liebe dich noch und immer. It is difficult not to
drop into German; we have been in the midst of it so long, and
we take a German lesson so often at the little theatre. Besides,
it has such pretty expressions. The use of ‘thou’ to those with
whom you are very intimate is charming! It is a loss to have
dropped it in English.
“Father will be home on Saturday, I hear, and I hope he will go
off to the ‘liebe mütterchen’ at Ilfracombe....
“To-day, for the first time, we have rain. But we have been to
the Saliné, or salt springs, and are now going to the theatre.
Last night we went to a ‘diabolisch spiritisch’ performance by a
conjurer. The Duke of Cambridge sat very near us, so near that
we could hear nearly all he was saying.”
“Marienbad, Aug. 16, 1886.
“... At six a.m. a fine band strikes up a lovely
_chorale_, which wakes every one. Hundreds of people carrying
tumblers go out on the promenade, when the band plays, and walk
about. There is so great a crowd at the Kreuzbrunnen that they
form three lines, and walk slowly one after another till they
get to the tap, at which a girl is waiting to serve. Some, I
among them, go to a hot-water supply to mix with the icy mineral
water, and then walk for twenty minutes. After this interval, we
again get into line for a second glass, and have another walk.
By this time the band has performed five pieces, all good music
and well played, and has gone to the other end of the promenade,
where there is another stream, the _Ferdinand’s quelle_. I go
here for a third tumbler and another walk. I get nearly two
hours, and then, but only then, go back to breakfast, which all
heartily enjoy.
“I have a lovely room, on the first floor, beautifully
furnished, with two large windows looking out on the pine
forest. Every window in Marienbad has a large cushion, the size
of the sill, covered with white cotton. I find that these are to
put your elbows on to look out of the window.
“To-day has been beautiful beyond description, cool and clear,
with cloudless sky, and the loveliest gleams of light between
the pines.
“We leave here on the 31st, go to Munich for three days, and
stay to see the famous Gorge of Pfeffers, and then join Mrs.
Hodgson at Serneus, Prättigau, Switzerland.
“I write a card every day to mother or father. Please send this
on. It is a great pleasure to me to have a card, dearest laddie,
and to know what you are doing.”
“Marienbad, Aug. 20, 1886.
“MY VERY DEAR SEP AND MARIA,
“... I wish Sep could get a chaplaincy in some German spa,
that would be so good for him and me, and that you and Arthur
could join me in a visit to the same place. The only drawback is
the long, wearisome journey. But one is repaid for the fatigue
by the delightful air and the complete change of surroundings.
One can live cheaply too. Our breakfasts cost—coffee, tea, or
chocolate, one egg, and as many little rolls as one likes—about
9_d._; dinner, 1_s._ 6_d._ or 1_s._ 8_d._; and supper, 10_d._ or
1_s._ Afternoon tea we make in my room. I have the largest and
handsomest room in the house for 25_s._, including everything.
My room is the general sitting-room, and where we receive
visitors, of whom there are rather more than I care for. The
chaplain, Mr. Thomas, of Jesus, Oxford, and his sister, with
whom I stayed in June, are here, with a fair number of English
whom they know, and whom, consequently, I know. There are four
members of Parliament, Sir Algernon Borthwick, Mr. Campbell
Bannerman, Mr. Hoyle, a most delightful man, and Dr. Cameron,
M.P. for Glasgow.
“After breakfast I return, and write or rest, while the others
go to the hills and sit all the morning among the pines, and
sometimes dine at one of the forest places.
“I go to a hot mineral bath at eleven, and at one we dine. We
never know where we shall have our next meal, and very often
have little or no idea of what a particular dish we order may
turn out. So the life is so new and fresh, so delightful for a
time that no one can fail to enjoy it. The band plays, there is
a theatre, there are splendid concerts, two libraries, besides
endless walks and views in the woods. The air is scented by the
pines, and by the wonderful flowers. We could hardly be happier,
in the quiet way that becomes our age.... An Italian professor
said to one of our ladies, who was laughing, ‘Ah, I will tame
you, _you screw_!’ She said, ‘What?’ He answered, ‘Why, you do
not know your Shakspere!”...
“The Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh only stayed one or two
nights, and had to go to the second floor. To-day we saw the
Grand Duke and Duchess walking about: they are very tall and
thin. Their children’s nurse is resplendent! She made me quite
wild to have her dress for the next costume dance!”...
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER II.
ROME.
“Ecco Roma!”
The greatest delights from travel came to Miss Buss from the two
extremes of North and South—extremes which yet touch—Sweden and Italy,
the two most distinctively artistic lands. In the Venice of the North
she was at home, for she loved the people; and she was not less at home
in the Venice of the Adriatic, where she loved the place and the
associations. But the City of the Seven Hills was the home of her heart,
and, without knowing what she was in Rome, one could know only the half
of her possibilities. Her first visit to Rome in 1875 opened a new phase
of being, and gave her a way of escape from everyday worry. After this
first visit, she writes—
“The worries, correspondence, and work of re-opening are
immense, but I am well, and resolute!
“At Bologna, there is a marble medallion of Ugo Bassi, put up by
his fellow-citizens. I comfort myself, you see, by going back to
Italy.”
The visit to Sweden was something less of a holiday than those to Italy,
because it was full of educational experience. At that date, 1871,
Sweden stood in advance of any European country on the introduction of
the American system. Professor Siljiström, having been sent to America
to report on education, came home, wrote his book, and, having a free
hand, was able within three years to work a complete reformation. Miss
Buss took an introduction to him from Mrs. Garth Wilkinson, but he was
unfortunately not within reach. Through Miss Margaret Howitt, who had
recently spent a year with Frederika Bremer, she became acquainted with
the Baroness Adlersparre, one of the chief movers in educational
matters, and editress of a woman’s journal published at Stockholm, a
lady deeply interested in all that interested Miss Buss, through whom
the way was opened in Copenhagen for similar experiences.
Miss Buss intensely enjoyed her trip to Sweden and Denmark, and after
her return gave an account of her experiences in two lectures to her
girls, with clear summaries of history, and vivid descriptions of
scenery, manners, and customs. The peripatetic (“goande,” or “going,”)
meals amused her, and she tells how—
“there are no chairs round the dining-table, and no waiters.
Ladies as well as gentlemen help themselves, and the hostess has
little to do.”
She also describes, in Stockholm, the novel custom of _smörgös_, _i.e._
“eating a series of strange dishes as a relish before the dinner began.”
“On a small table, at the side, we found smoked reindeer flesh;
smoked salmon with poached eggs; fresh, raw, sliced salmon
(_gravlaks_); hard-boiled eggs; fried sausages; a kind of
anchovy; raw herrings, etc.; white and brown bread; brandy, etc.
The gentlemen drank one sort of spirit out of tiny glasses.
Everything was tastefully arranged on a snowy cloth.”
But in this trip her chief interest was in her educational
experiences—of which she took full notes—varied by pleasant social
gatherings, to which she and her father and her uncle, Dr. Buss, were
invited. In the only letter that can now be found relating to this tour
she expresses herself very warmly—
“Aug. 17, 1871.
“We have been enjoying ourselves I can tell you! One of my
introductions has led to an acquaintance with a Miss Hierta, a
_Högral borna_, or nobly born lady, who is clever, handsome,
rich, benevolent, and young. Her father is the oldest member of
what we should call the House of Commons, but it is called the
Lower Chamber. He is familiarly known as ‘Lars Hierta,’ the
representative of the Liberal party, the friend of education and
of women. He is a fine old man of seventy-four, tall, handsome,
and, I hear, witty in the House, and always listened to with
respect. He and his daughter have been here to-night to
‘soppor,’ a word which needs no translation.
“Through Miss Hierta I have been able to see nine of the great
schools here. All I can say is that Sweden sets us a noble
example. Education is practically compulsory, as no child can be
confirmed till he can read, write, and cypher, and he cannot get
employment without the certificate of confirmation. Of course
such compulsion would not do in our country; but still it is
something to be able to boast that no child can remain ignorant
of the ‘three R’s.’...
“I feel that we English, who are so much richer than these
Swedes, are yet in many respects far behind. Here the State
considers that it is a duty to provide education for all. And
all this has been done, in the last few years, mainly through
one man, Professor Siljiström, who was sent to America, and who,
on his return, was allowed to remodel the school system (of
which a full account is given).”
Nor was there less attraction on Miss Hierta’s side. In the following
year, she visited Miss Buss in London, and, written in 1873, I have a
letter speaking of her sorrow in the illness of “our dear Miss Buss,”
and she adds—
“I hope that she is recovered now; she is doing such a noble
work, and she has such a wonderful combination of greatness of
heart, of intelligence and energy, that a woman like this ought
to live eternally even here on earth, where she is so much
wanted. How I wish we had one like her here to establish a model
school for young girls.”
In Mary Howitt’s “Life” there is among her Roman experiences an
interesting account of a visit from “charming Anna Hierta, a beautiful
specimen of a Swedish woman.” She was one of the girls deeply influenced
by Frederika Bremer’s “Hertha,” the book that emancipated woman in
Sweden, and seemed to me to have in her all the splendid force of the
fair, strong women of the North.
The first visit Miss Buss made to Rome was in 1875–76, with her brother,
the Rev. Septimus Buss. Here on a post-card are her first impressions—
“51, Piazza de Spagna Roma,
“Dec. 26, 1875.
“We are having a delightful time; beyond all expression
enjoyable. To-morrow evening we visit Mr. and Mrs. Howitt, and
afterwards I will write to you. But we are out all day; have a
late dinner, and a crowded salon afterwards, so that I can find
no time for writing. We have had no rain, but the most
marvellous sunsets! Such as Turner only painted. This lovely
city realizes all my anticipations. In nothing have we been
disappointed.”
And later, this letter—
“51, Piazza de Spagna, Jan. 2, 1876.
“MY DEAR CARRY,
“Rome is perfectly lovely! No word can describe it, nor
the thrilling emotions which it causes. Think of the
overpowering sensations I felt yesterday in driving along the
Appian Way by the place where Horatius murdered his sister
because of her grief for her lover Curiatius, and then under the
magnificent arch of Drusus, through several miles of tombs. We
passed the church of ‘Domine, quo vadis,’ the place where St.
Peter, whose heart failed him, and who was fleeing from Rome,
met the Lord, and in utter surprise fell on his knees, saying,
‘Domine, quo vadis’ (Lord, whither goest Thou)? To which the
risen Saviour answered, ‘I go to Rome, to be again crucified,’
whereon St. Peter, regaining his courage, retraced his steps to
Rome, and suffered martyrdom. We then visited some ancient
columbaria, or tombs, containing ashes of the dead. Then we
entered a great catacomb! As I write, my whole body seems to
quiver at the remembrance. We walked about three quarters of a
mile through the galleries containing the burial places of many
a holy martyr, especially of the early bishops of Rome, most of
whom gave their lives for their faith. Nothing but coming here
will enable a person to understand this marvellous city!
“Always your loving,
“ARNIE.”
The year following Mrs. Septimus Buss was her companion, and she writes
to her brother—
“Roma, Dec. 31, 1877.
“DEAR OLD SEP,
“Don’t you talk about letters! We have written to you
every day but one, and that represents a good deal when you
remember Roman habits. _We_ are, however, always wanting news of
_you_.
“Rome is, I think, more delightful than ever. Why is it? The
weather is not so fine as you and I had it last year, though
magnificent compared with English climate.
“We hear all sorts of things. To-day I was told that, when some
cuttings for a new street near Cardinal Antonelli’s Villa were
being made, a skeleton, with a splendid crown on its head, was
found.
“Before 1870 there were no schools for the poor. Now all Italy
has public schools, free, attended by many thousands of
children.”
The next year she writes to her sister—
“Every place I go to is full of you. You and I are so fully in
sympathy in so many things—_here_ especially—that it seemed
almost as if our hearts beat in unison last year. My present
party is delightful; they are pleasant, cultivated girls, and
are very amiable. There has not even been a jar. But surely I am
not very difficult for them to get on with?”
“Not very difficult to get on with?” The answer to that question is
given clearly enough in a very few of the reminiscences of those happy
days—Miss Findon first—
“I went away with her several times in the holidays, and in 1878
had the great privilege of being with her in Rome. Mrs. Bryant
was also there, and our party was more than a pleasant one.
Every day for a month we went about with Miss Buss, and she
seemed never tired of showing us the places she knew so well,
and pouring out to us her own stores of knowledge in history and
art, which made everything of double interest to us.”
Then comes Miss Lawford—
“The time I, with some others, spent with Miss Buss in Rome will
ever remain a delightful memory. The many visits which she had
paid to Italy, together with her love of history, ancient and
modern, enabled us to get much out of our stay there in a
comparatively short time. We were in no danger of imagining we
knew the city, as she constantly impressed upon us that she was
merely introducing us to it! I can still hear her. ‘Ecco Roma!’
when we came within sight of the lights of the town on our
arrival there at night.”
Mrs. Bailey (Miss Emma Elford) writes at Christmas, 1894—
“This time of year always carries me back to the happy month I
had the privilege of spending with her in Rome. How delightful
it was to know her in her private life, and how she entered into
all one’s little joys and sorrows. I shall never forget that
delightful Christmas holiday; each day now, as it passes, I
almost know where we were, though it is so long ago as 1877.
Dear Miss Buss! how good she was ever to me; never forgetting me
in anything that was going on.”
Miss Marian Elford echoes the same strain—
“But to be in Rome with her was the climax of all delights. She
literally knew the history of every corner of it, both ancient
and modern. She was a good linguist, being able to converse in
Italian, German, and French. Not one word of ‘school’ passed
between us from the time we left Holborn until we were back in
our own places, for she had the happy faculty of leaving work
with all its worries behind.”
In 1880, her party included my sister and Miss Fawcett, who give still
the same report. Of a visit to Ostia, on this occasion, Miss Buss writes
fully—
“January 11, 1880.
“We had a delightful day at Ostia. We went in a sort of
waggonette with a cover as roof, the sides open, four horses and
two men. Our start was made about a quarter after eight. You
know the road? Through the gate of St. Paolo by the great
Basilica, and then a turn to the right (to the left is the road
to the Tre Fontane) took us across ‘the dumb Campagna sea’ for
miles. The whole distance is sixteen miles. We stopped on the
way to look at the magnificent stone-pine forest at
Castel-Fusano, a little house belonging to the Chigi family.
Then we returned to the grand old Castle of Ostia, and, laying
down our rugs, encamped for dinner (or lunch) on the roadside.
We had cold fowl, bread, butter, cake, cheese, wine, and
oranges. With our etnas, we also made some cocoa. Fancy a
perfectly delightful picnic on the 7th of January!
“Then we walked along the street of tombs under excavated Ostia.
To any one who has not seen Pompeii, it would give a good notion
of it. Some very fine statues have been dug up and put in the
Lateran. The excavations are going on slowly for want of money.
A fine temple has been cleared, facing the chief road from this
post. Ostia must have been as magnificent as the Via Appia, in
the days of St. Paul. You remember that lovely bust of the young
Augustus which was dug up in Ostia?”
An interval followed after this till, in 1885, she took her nephew Frank
and a college friend of his. Of this visit we have a full account by
Miss Blatherwick, which lets us into the secret of the comprehensive
knowledge of Rome which all recognized in Miss Buss—
“She had travelled all night, and arrived about 7 in the
morning. I quite expected she would have had her breakfast
sent up to her, and would have taken a few hours’ rest first;
but no! _she_ had seen Rome several times before, but the two
gentlemen had not; and as she could only stay three weeks,
there was no time to be lost. At 9 o’clock she appeared at the
breakfast-table, looking ‘as fresh as a daisy,’ and just as
though she had been there a week. Directly after breakfast she
said to me, ‘You will join us in everything, will you not? We
four will just fill a carriage.’ I assented only too gladly,
and that morning began one of the happiest times I have ever
had. Miss Buss brought with her double or treble the number of
books about Rome that most people would care to take with them
on so long a journey, and generally she put two or three of
them into the carriage, and could turn to any passage she
wanted to read aloud, although her own knowledge was such that
she was herself a ‘walking guide to Rome.’ Her days there were
passed much as follows: after breakfast at 9, she went to her
room for a little reading; at 10.30 we drove out to see and
study something in the Eternal City; then home to lunch, and,
after a brief rest, went out again on the same errand. At 4.30
we assembled in her room for afternoon tea, which she and I
had agreed to provide between us. We each boiled some water
over our little travelling spirit-lamps; she had brought with
her table-napkins and a dainty little tea-set; and then—all
being prepared—we gathered round the table, and had a
delightful half-hour. One day Miss Buss said to me, ‘Madame T.
(our hostess) does not at all approve of these afternoon teas;
I think we had better invite her to ours to-morrow.’ This was
done, and the following day Miss Buss remarked, ‘Madame T.
said she did not like afternoon teas, but I think she enjoyed
hers very much yesterday.’ Tea over, the gentlemen disappeared
to prepare for the late dinner, and Miss Buss quickly changed
her dress, and at 5.30 punctually she and they met in an
unused back drawing-room, and took an hour’s Italian
conversational lesson. This daily lesson ended when the
dinner-bell rang at 6.30, and afterwards we went up to the
drawing-rooms, where all the visitors generally gathered
together, and games at cards, chess, draughts, etc., were
played. She always joined in some of them and in the
conversation till 10 p.m. Once or twice there was an excursion
for the day into the country, and one evening we went out to
view the Colosseum by moonlight. And this was her holiday!
“I noticed that during this time, Miss Buss never once spoke of
her college, the teachers, or anything connected with business,
thus showing how wisely she could put care entirely aside for a
time, and give herself up to relaxation.”
Miss Buss always went to the _Pension Tellenbach_, which, in her time,
was quite a noted centre for the English in Rome, the visitors’ book at
the old house in the Piazza di Spagna including the names of Dean
Stanley and Lady Augusta, Dean Plumptre, Mr. E. A. Freeman, and, on one
occasion, Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone. Madame Tellenbach was a German lady
whose social position and knowledge of Rome gave her the power to make
things very pleasant for her guests, and she was proud of the results of
her skill and energy, a pride into which Miss Buss could enter with a
real sympathy. On her death, Madame Tellenbach left her whole
establishment to her brother-in-law, on condition that it should be
still carried on, not being able to bear that the work of years should
fall to pieces, and not perceiving that her bequest might be very much
of a white elephant. But, though not in need of it, Colonel Tellenbach
was not disposed to reject a valuable property, so he and his charming
wife established themselves in one suite of apartments, and consoled
themselves for the sufferings entailed in the management by giving
_soirées musicales_ and _dansantes_ to their guests.
That I should go to Rome with Miss Buss had been our dream for years,
during which my home claims had never made it possible. At last, in
1889–90, my sister and I met her at the Pension Tellenbach, arriving
there two days before her. The advent of so scholastic a party would
have carried consternation into any British hotel or boarding-house.
There was Miss Buss herself, with all her weight of honours; there was a
governor of her schools and the honorary secretary of her centre for the
Cambridge Local Examination; there was the head of the Cambridge
Training College for Teachers; there were two B.A.’s, head-mistresses,
and two Kindergarten head-mistresses, A.C.P. (Associates of the College
of Preceptors). Even the girl of the party was a Girton graduate.
Fortunately, our kind German and Italian friends had not yet learnt
their alphabet in this new style, and, in their happy ignorance, were
conscious only of the bright wave of fun and frolic, of clever and wise
talk, that filled the place with ripple and sparkle during the next
three weeks. After the day’s excursions, amusing charades were acted by
the English, with artistic _tableaux vivants_ in return by the Germans.
The B.A.’s gave a college party in their rooms, which were _en suite_,
and were charmingly decorated for the occasion, where games were played
and nonsense talked, to the despair of Colonel Tellenbach and other
gentlemen, who were none of them invited, not even the Bishop himself,
who was head of the English table. And when they had all gone, sad was
the blank. My sister and I stayed on, and, very often, in the evenings,
did Colonel Tellenbach come beside us to sigh over the loss of _ces
charmantes dames anglaises_!
We had, of course, determined that our first sight of the Colosseum
should be by moonlight, so, that, on the first brilliant night when all
could go, we started—fourteen ladies in a procession of five of the nice
little Roman victorias. None of the gentlemen were free to act as
protectors, so we made up in quantity for lack of quality. It must be
confessed that some of us could have entered sympathetically into the
feelings of the rank-and-file of a forlorn hope. Malaria and brigands
seemed to us to lurk in every deep dark corner of the vast ruin, and we
did not know what might be the perils of the way thither. But our leader
had our confidence, and we followed, to find the streets of Rome as
quiet as those of an English village, and in the ruins nothing more than
groups of tourists of all nations.
Still, our experience made us fully appreciate a story which was going
the round at the time. A solitary Englishman, wandering in the ruins,
was roused to suspicion by the number of times he came across the same
burly, brown-frocked, cowled monk, who finally jostled against him,
turning suspicion into certainty. The Englishman felt at once for his
watch. It was not there! He strode after the monk, overmatching him in
height if not in breadth, and, seizing him by the throat, demanded his
watch. A colloquy, unintelligible on either side, ended in the monk
giving up the watch; and, with a parting shake that sent him sprawling,
the irate Englishman stalked off to tell his wife the tale. “But your
watch is on the dressing-table!” she said, in alarm. He pulled out the
watch in his pocket. _It was not his own._ A veil falls over the scene.
But the early express next morning took away two passengers who were not
likely soon to re-visit the Eternal City.
Nothing marred our own complete enjoyment of the scene as we sat for
some time in the moonlight, opposite the imperial seat, trying to bring
back the past, to see the cruel Roman crowd, to picture the stately
Vestals with their power of life and death. And most clearly of all we
seemed to see the Monk Telemachus as he sprang into the arena, the last
human sacrifice to Roman lust of blood.
Miss Findon tells of similar experience—
“Once, as we sat in the Colosseum, Miss Buss read us Byron’s
lines and also Dickens’ words about it. I remember the tones of
her voice now as she ended:—‘God be thanked—a ruin!’ And then
paused while we tried to carry our minds back to that old time
when under that same blue sky, this ruin had been the scene of
those terrible fights of men and beasts, and the Roman ladies
looked on. How different from the tender heart of her who was
sitting in our midst!”
Long before the story of Italian patriots was generally known, Miss Buss
had made it her own, and she loved to tell it; as she had told us on the
afternoon of Christmas Day that year. I find a note dated 1877, in which
she mentions a talk with Old Pupils—
“I told them about ‘new Italy,’ and read from Mrs. Browning, and
Mrs. Hamilton King’s ‘Disciples’ and ‘Aspromonte.’ Do you know
Mr. Browning’s ‘Court of the King,’ a small poem?”
In a letter to her nephew, we find her feeling on this side of Italian
history—
“Rome, January, 1884.
“I hope you sympathize with the progress of humanity, dearest
lad, and with the regeneration of a nation! My heart thrills
when I think of how much men have suffered to make beautiful
Italy a geographical _fact_, instead of a mere name. Only last
year a young Triestine, named Overdank, was hanged by the
Austrians because he with others wanted to annex Trieste to
Italy. Many people think the whole eastern side of the Adriatic
ought to belong to Italy. Of course this was rebellion on the
part of Overdank. According to law, no doubt, he suffered. But
the horror is that the executioners are said to have sent the
bill for the cost of the execution to the heart-broken mother!
She had to pay them, but has since died—happily for her.... And
those are _Christians_, and have _mothers_!
“Italy has a grand past. May she have as grand a future! In the
blood of the thousands of martyrs for the liberty and unity of
their country is the hope of future generations. Our country’s
history seems but of yesterday, when one is in Rome, surrounded
by memorials of the old Roman Empire. Have I told you of the
discovery of the house of Numa Pompilius, just excavated in the
Forum, close to the arch of Titus, under the old gate of the
Palatine? It must have been used by the Pontifex Maximus all
through Roman history to the time of Augustus, who chose to live
on the Palatine, and fulfilled the conditions by making his
house on the Palatine state property. When he left the house in
the Forum, the Vestals were placed in it, and the discoveries
show that these ladies lived in almost regal splendour in this
house, and their statues, broken—in some cases wilfully—and
defaced, are being dug up daily. When we came, one only had been
found. Now there are from twelve to sixteen at least. On these
statues is recorded the _name_ of the Vestal. On one the name is
erased. Did she lapse, or did she become a Christian?
“In December last, a jar containing 864 Anglo-Saxon coins,
dating from 901 to 946 A.D. (I think) was found. How did these
coins come there? Surely they were brought by the Anglo-Saxon
pilgrims mentioned by Bede. Can you begin to understand the
extraordinary fascination of such a place?...
“I am constantly in a state of thrilling emotion arising from
the associations, and one thing overpowers another. One was
quite speechless at the sight of the ancient inscriptions from
the tombs of the early Christians. It was a thrilling thing to
see a man like the Pope, whose office is so ancient and so
sacred, even to those Christians who do not agree with him.
“It was really awe-striking to stand in rooms used by Augustus,
by Livia and by Drusus; in the case of the latter the frescoes
are as fresh as if done a few months since....
“I wonder if I shall ever have the delight of introducing you to
the world of wonders concentrated in Rome?”
My own memories of her in Rome are curiously comprehensive of the whole
range of interest in the Eternal City: heathen, Christian, mediæval,
artistic, patriotic; in each and all of which she was equally at home.
On our first Sunday afternoon we had gone to the Palatine, first pausing
to try to imagine the splendour of Nero’s Golden House, before we went
on to stand at the bar where St. Paul must have stood before the Cæsar
to whom he had made appeal. A portion of the marble rail stands now as
it stood then, and there we tried to picture that memorable scene. Miss
Buss described to us how the heathen Court of Justice had become the
Christian Church, and so vivid was the whole impression that to this
moment I can still see the graceful careless emperor, in the centre of
the semicircle of fawning, sneering courtiers, all making merry at the
claim to Roman citizenship of this mean Jew; with some pride too, no
doubt, at the far sweep of the Roman power to which her most distant
subject could appeal and not in vain.
As we stood there, lost in the past, there came a sudden clash and clang
of all the church bells in Rome—once there had been one for each day in
the year—and all the blue air was full of sound. Here was the echo,
still clear and strong, of the message of the despised Christian, while
of Nero’s Golden House there is not a single trace.
Again, we are standing on the terrace in front of St. Gregorio, and seem
to watch the descending figure of the monk Augustine—our Saint of
Canterbury—as he had just received the blessing of the Great Gregory,
and was departing on his mission to those fair-haired Angles who are so
like—and so unlike—the angels. Then we turn into the refectory, where,
day by day, the saint entertained his twelve poor pilgrims, and we hear
how to his large charity was given the grace of entertaining angels
_not_ “unawares,” since, on the face of one of his guests whose special
need had called out special service, the faithful servant saw a light
which showed him that the Master of the Feast Himself was there in very
truth:—
“Who gives himself with his alms feeds three,
Himself, his hungry neighbour, and _Me_.”
On another day we had gone to see the Moses of Michael Angelo—earth’s
most lasting symbol of the imperishable Divine Law—and, as we came out
of the church, we paused to look at the picture made by the convent with
the tall palm-tree against the Frangipani Tower, and heard how in time
of famine the Frangipani—the “bread-breakers”—earned their noble name,
as true _lords_ (hláford, or “_loaf-ward_”) in sharp contrast to the
Borgias—the spoilers of the poor—whose palace still stands to the right
of the steps down which we passed, going through the archway, that we
might look up to the balcony where the beautiful Lucrezia must often
have stood, to cool her throbbing brow, under the quiet stars so high
above all futile ambition and fleeting passion.
And yet another well-remembered walk, from the Piazza di Spagna, past
the studio of Canova, to the Via di Ripetta, to look for the bust that
marks the house of Angelo Brunetti—
“The tribune of the people, who could stay
A tumult by the lifting of his hand,
And by the lifting of his voice could bring
An array round him”—
by his mother named Ciceruacchio, “Fair and strong.”
“And still the name grew with him as he grew
To stature stateliest, and strongest arm,
And fairest face of all the City.”
And we talked of the great deeds of that fateful year as we followed the
street which is now called by the name of him.
“Who with deep eyes, silent and resolute,
Rode slowly up the steep of golden sand
To San Pietro in Montorio.”
Then, standing by the grave which tells of the gratitude of _Italia
Una_, we pictured the triumphant procession up that same Via Garibaldi,
as the ashes of the patriots who had died for Italy were brought from
far and wide to rest in the Rome they had loved so well.
My Roman Journal closes with a comment on Miss Buss’ most able guidance,
and the conclusion—
“To be with her in Rome is something to be remembered. She is
always an inspiration, with her splendid vitality and energy;
but here, with her enthusiasm and her complete familiarity with
every association, she is wonderful indeed—a living flame of
fire.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER III.
SOCIAL LIFE.
“And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love,
obedience, troops of friends.”
When we think of the vivid impressions of men and things that we might
have had from one who enjoyed such varied experience, we cannot but
regret that the press and hurry of her life made a diary an
impossibility for Miss Buss.
In the early years of her work she succeeded in filling some small
volumes, but when they were sought after her death, nothing remained but
a few pages with notes of the childhood of her nephews and nieces.
From the fairly continuous record in her Journal-letters from 1870–79,
and from Miss Fawcett’s Diary during her residence at Myra (1868–88), as
well as from the letters to the Rev. Francis F. Buss (1884–88),
sufficient indications may be gathered to show us what we have lost.
From Miss Fawcett we get glimpses of the variety and breadth of
interests shared by Miss Buss with the inmates of her house. Lectures on
every topic from the best lecturers, concerts, _soirées_, dances,
charades and _tableaux vivants_, excursions and picnics to interesting
places, interviews with celebrated persons, all go to make the reader
imagine what the interest of a full record might have been. Life
certainly must have been very far from dull in those days, however full
of work it may have been. And this was still more true of the last ten
years, to which we have so little clue, when she went out even more
among the leaders of the educational movement.
Here are a few notes that we should like expanded—
“Miss Buss went to lunch at the Deanery, and afterwards had a
quiet drive with Lady Augusta Stanley.”
“On Jubilee Day Miss Buss was invited to the Abbey by Dean
Bradley, and was seated next to Professor Max Müller. At night
she told us all about the ceremony. She had been intensely
interested in the greetings between the Queen and the Royal
Family, an emotional scene that went to her heart.”
“Miss Buss had an interview with the Crown Princess (the Empress
Frederick), and talked of education.”
“Miss Buss has been to the Prize-giving at the Richmond School.
She had a chat with the Princess Mary of Teck.”
On another of these occasions she was photographed, sitting beside the
Duchess of Albany.
Mrs. Hill notes a characteristic point—
“She was never satisfied to enjoy anything by herself, and
living at Myra, as I did, I have been with her at different
times to all kinds of things, the Indian Soirées, the Bishop of
London’s garden-parties, the Royal Society’s Ladies’ Evenings,
and big soirées at West End houses in the season. In the same
spirit, if she had bouquets on Prize Day, etc., she would send
them in old days to Mrs. Laing, and, later on, to people who
would care to have them. If she had a carriage to make calls,
she would take some one for the drive.”
Then from her letters to her nephew at Cambridge—
“April 16, 1884.
“On Friday I lunched at St. Mark’s Vicarage, Surbiton, with
Archdeacon Burney, lineal descendant of the famous musical Dr.
Burney, friend of Johnson, Burke, Garrick, etc., and father of
Frances, author of ‘Evelina,’ and ‘Diary of Madame D’Arblay,’
the fashionable authoress of the day, on whom Macaulay
afterwards conferred immortality in his essay. Do you know her
diary? It is so minute that as one reads it one is transported
into another age, and moves among the great men and women of the
18th century. I can never forget the delight with which I read
it, in my twentieth year, just as it was published.
“Archdeacon Burney’s walls are covered with family portraits,
heirlooms, Sir Joshua’s well-known Dr. Burney, and Garrick;
Gainsborough’s portrait of Paul Sanday and his lady-love; of Dr.
Johnson, from the Thrale collection; of Madame D’Arblay (Fanny
Burney), and the next generation of Burneys by Romney and
Laurence.
“And there are some lovely Turners, and also a fine collection
of autographs.... The visit was very interesting.... And then
there is an invalid daughter, with a most lovely face and
spiritual expression. She can only be moved from her couch to
bed and back, and yet is full of brightness and good works.
“There has been a discussion lately as to the author of the
lines ‘To love her was a liberal education,’ either by Steele or
Congreve. Well, to see the invalid Miss Burney is a Christian
education! How wonderful it is! Our heavenly Father seems to
lift some weak ones of earth into a supernatural strength that
makes them more powerful from their sick couch than the strong
and healthy.”
“Feb. 21, 1885.
“I was in Cambridge yesterday ... it is not nearly so dear to me
as when I had a beloved boy there! But still it is always
delightful. Girton has been very gay—a ball, some theatricals
(the ‘Ladies’ Battle’), and last night the inter-collegiate
debate on Hero-worship; seventy Newnham girls were going to
Girton, to lead in favour. Girton was to oppose by pointing out
how it injured worshipped and worshipper.
“I spent the morning at Newnham, called at King’s, to see Mr. C.
Ashbee’s new rooms; lunched at Girton, and had afternoon tea
there, and went to ‘Potts,’ to see Willie B. He asked O. Ashbee
to meet me.”
“Feb. 15, 1885.
“On Friday I went to a meeting at the Mansion House about the
Parkes Museum, and then to the Vicarage. Mother, who was
expecting Prof. Stuart, M.P., made me stay and dine with them.
He is very bright, and I liked him. Besides, he is a Cambridge
man, and that is a passport to me. He told us some stories of
exam. mistakes, etc.”
“Feb., 1885.
“I have been out twice this week, once to Mrs. Dacre Craven’s
(_née_ Florence Lees), wife of the Rector of St. George’s,
Bloomsbury. There were many interesting things to be seen, among
others a series of photographs of Mecca, also of Medina. They
must have been done by a Mahommedan, as it is death to a
Christian to enter these sacred places.
“Another evening I went to the Countess D’Avigdor’s. She is a
most beautiful old lady. The ladies were flashing with diamonds,
and there was some splendid music. But most of the men were
Conservative, and were abusing Gladstone in a most shameful way.
“Did I tell you I met Mr. Guthrie (_vice versa_ Guthrie)? He is
very simple and unaffected. I saw him at Mrs. Ashbee’s. Sir
Spencer Wells was also there, the famous doctor.”
“June 6, 1886.
“I go to Oxford on Friday, to stay till Tuesday, and a most
splendid programme of University sights, luncheons, dinners,
meetings, etc., is arranged for Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. I
am to be the guest of Mr. Thomas and his sister; I think he is a
Master of Queen’s, but am not sure of the college. Friday and
Saturday I must give to the Head-mistresses’ meetings, but I
shall see a good deal of Oxford life. It will be grand to be in
Oxford on Whit-Sunday.”
“June 29, 1890.
“Every day this week is full of engagements, and I find it
difficult to escape them. I _like_ to accept some. I should much
have liked to go to Mrs. Gladstone’s garden-party, and also to
the Duke of Westminster’s garden-party (I was asked as a
subscriber to the Church House), but I could not manage either,
in consequence of previous plans—Rugby, for instance.
“For the first time, yesterday, I went to the Rugby Speech Day,
at the invitation of Dr. Percival, the Head-master. ‘Tom Brown’
was there, and when Dr. Percival announced him the cheers were
deafening. Mr. Hughes has aged since I last saw him. He has made
Rugby known to every civilized country, as well as live for ever
in the memory of Rugbeians.
“Our own Prize Day was quite the best we have had for several
years. The Bishop of Rochester made an excellent speech, in
perfect taste, and Lady Elizabeth Biddulph, daughter to our
early friend, the late Countess of Hardwicke, also delivered a
_good speech_, which was liked by parents and girls. She is a
thorough-going Temperance speaker, accustomed to large
audiences.”
Cheltenham was another very attractive social centre. There she met Mrs.
Frances Owen, whose exquisite lecture on Wordsworth, given at the North
London Collegiate School, introduced her to the circle there. Mr. and
Mrs. Middleton and their son were dear friends of the same period, and
Miss Buss delighted in telling the stories of Mr. Middleton’s wonderful
cat; especially that of waking its master at early dawn one morning that
it might display five rats, laid in a row at the door; or the still more
strange story of its taking Mr. Middleton into the library, after a
fortnight’s absence, and there telling him a long tale, which the maid
explained by saying that the cat, shut up in this room, had met in
fierce combat and slain another of the enemy.
In Mr. Henry Middleton Miss Buss found artistic sympathy, and also gave
it, for her drawing-room was one of the first decorated by Mr. Middleton
in the new fashion which superseded the old white and gold of the first
half of the century. I remember being taken by Miss Buss to see Mrs.
Middleton, “that saintly woman,” as her friends called her, and bringing
away a memory of peace and joy. She had come to try London advice for
the complaint which proved fatal. And Mrs. Owen did not long survive
her.
But Cheltenham, first and last, meant _Miss Beale_. It is a joy to think
of the meetings—happily frequent—between these two kindred workers, who
could give each other so rare a sympathy. The North London Collegiate
and Camden Schools and the Cheltenham Ladies’ College are two great
creations, original works of genius; and when we think of the continuous
stream, scarcely less than a thousand persons, pupils and teachers,
always passing through both places, we find a power and influence simply
incalculable. The meeting between the two heads suggests a _tête-à-tête_
between two queens, who for a brief bright respite may escape from the
loneliness of royalty.[20]
Footnote 20:
As an instance of the “true word spoken in jest,” we find this
separateness of the two leaders emphasized, at a very early period of
their career, in the often-quoted nonsense-rhyme, at which they
laughed with the rest—
“Miss Buss and Miss Beale
Cupid’s darts do not feel;
They are not like us,
Miss Beale and Miss Buss!”
The authorship of this quatrain is uncertain, being attributed either
to a master of Clifton, or to a boy of Cheltenham College. It is quite
certain that they were not written by one of Miss Buss’ pupils, nor
were they ever (as reported) found on the blackboard of any class-room
in the North London Collegiate School for Girls.
Miss Beale was some years the younger, and in fullest vigour when her
friend was feeling the stress and strain of work. But Miss Buss took the
deepest interest in all the later developments at Cheltenham, and could
rejoice in seeing at last the full realization of her own early dream,
in an institution where a child may now enter the Kindergarten at the
age of three—there is a lovely school full of these happy mites—and,
after going through all the course, may finally leave the Training
School as B.A. or B.Sc., fully competent to teach what she has so
thoroughly learned.
It was wonderful how many different interests were packed into that full
life. Besides all her private visiting, and educational and
philanthropic meetings, there were the meetings of literary societies.
She often went to those of the Royal Institution, and of the Royal
Geographical, taking her girls. She belonged to the Wordsworth Society,
and I remember her keen delight in an address by James Russell Lowell,
in the library at Lambeth Palace, and again the satisfaction in the
beautiful simplicity with which Mr. Lowell, in an address to the
Browning Society, took the Christian side in the discussions which were
a marked feature of that society. Even for the Society of Psychical
Research she could keep an open mind, though in general she did not care
for things abstract or vague. For fun she was always ready, and I well
remember how we enjoyed Mark Twain’s subtle nonsense, in his lecture on
“Our Fellow-savages of the Sandwich Islands.”
She had by nature and early association a great love of the drama, and
indulged occasionally in a visit to the theatre, especially enjoying a
French play, as she says—
“I am taking an evening sometimes, however, to get a French
lesson at the Comèdie Française. I saw _L’Avare_ last night. It
is most perfectly acted.
“I saw Bernhardt in _Andromaque_. She is a wonderful actress,
with a curious power of impressing herself on the spectator’s
mind. Andromaque made one very sad; it seemed to point to the
poor empress. How thankful I should be to die if I were in her
place.”
She had much to say on her return from all such experiences, as well as
from dinners and _fêtes_, when she had met and talked with eminent
persons. Unhappily, there was no phonograph to take down her talk. It
has gone, and with it all the record of times and seasons of public and
private import of which she knew.
Then we have a peep at the books that interested her—
“Broadstairs, Aug. 26, 1873.
“Frank has been my companion in all my wanderings. I have _read_
to my heart’s content; the laddie always goes to bed early, and
so I had always two or three hours at night. I have devoured
books on Education, Siljistrom’s American schools, Heppeau’s
ditto. So that I have had two studies of American education; the
one from a Swedish point of view, the other from a French. In
Belgium, my boy and I studied Motley’s ‘Rise of the Dutch
Republic,’ ‘Belfry of Bruges,’ etc. Although the holidays have
been more broken up than I care for—they have been restful and
enjoyable.
“On Saturday 6th I am to go to Gunnersbury, where my uncle Henry
lives, and then I shall have a few days in the middle of the
last week of the holidays. _If I can_, I want to go to
Stratford-on-Avon on a pilgrimage—by the way, pilgrimages are
all the fashion now!—to Shakespeare’s country.”
“I have been reading with intense interest the American book on
the education of girls—the answer, by an American woman, to the
book by Dr. Clark which formed the text for Dr. Maudsley’s
article in the _Fortnightly_ for April against the Higher
Education of Women! The American women make out a strong case
for themselves....
“If you have not read ‘Sister Dora’ let me lend it to you. She
is an encouragement and a warning! She was very self-willed, and
that is different from being strong-willed. She was the latter,
too.”
(To her nephew, January 8, 1892.) “I am going to send you two
comic books—‘My Wife’s Politics’ and ‘Samantha among the
Brethren’—both books bearing on the woman-question—_the_
question of the end of the nineteenth century. You will perhaps
live to see the effects of the emancipation of women. Their
higher and fuller development, their greater knowledge, and
therefore greater sympathy, will bring them nearer to men of the
best kind. For the other kind of men—as Mrs. Poyser says, ‘There
will always be fools enough to match the men!’ I should like to
revisit our planet at the end of the twentieth century, to see
the effect on Society of the great revolution of the
nineteenth—the Woman’s Rights Question.”
In early days, Miss Buss used at Easter to take a large house by the
sea, and fill it with her family—the nephews and nieces bringing young
friends—or with pupils or members of the staff. Later, her country house
at Epping was open in this way for short holidays, and of these Mrs.
Hill says—
“It was delightful to be with Miss Buss at Epping. She generally
had something interesting to read to us in the evening. She
never minded what we did, and looked indulgently on all kinds of
pranks.
“She remembered one’s likes and dislikes in the way of food. One
of the last times I had tea with her (in October, 1874) she had
some special cakes which she knew I liked, and when Mr. Hill and
I were staying with her at Overstrand, if we expressed a liking
for anything, she said to her companion, ‘Why do you not get it
for them?’
“This minute thoughtfulness is a matter of constant comment.
Miss Edwards tells of a visit from an old pupil who brought her
daughter to Myra, and at tea-time Miss Buss asked, ‘Does your
little girl like sugar as much as you did, my dear?’”
During her nephews’ college career she several times took a house at
Cambridge, always arranging something in which her girl-undergraduates
could join. Of one of her dances there is an account from her friend
Mrs. Mathieson—
“In January, 1886, Miss Buss called and asked me to join her in
giving a dance at Cambridge. Her two nephews were there, and Mr.
W. Buck. My son was also there, and my daughter at Girton. I
think we had about twenty from Girton, and the same number from
Newnham, and Miss Hughes brought about twelve from the Training
College. Miss Buss and I each took down a party, and there were
plenty of men from the various colleges.
“I well remember the interest taken by Miss Buss in the
arrangements, and her distress because Girton and Newnham would
not extend the time for their students, who were obliged to
leave us at 10.30, which, of course, broke up our party, since
we were left with fifty men to ten girls, as Miss Hughes took
hers away when the other colleges went.”
There is a little note from Miss Buss in reference to this party, in
which she says—
“I find I have made a mistake in the date; February 25 _is_ in
Lent. In any case, the dance cannot be managed before Easter.
“Have you seen _Punch_? There is a small young lady who, when
accused by her mother of being ‘stupid,’ says, ‘No, I am only
inattentive!’ Let me hope my mistake was like the child’s!”
Mrs. Hill, who knew the Cambridge life well, says of it—
“She seemed most in her element, so to say, when she was at
Cambridge. I went with her ten or twelve times, and she was
always most anxious that her young people should have the best
time possible. If necessary, she would herself chaperon us to
breakfast, lunch, tea, coffee, in the Undergraduate’s rooms, and
(what added to the pleasure) she enjoyed going. Twice she gave a
dance, when she made a delightful hostess.”
It is also in reference to this phase of her life that Mrs. Bryant gives
this pretty picture of Miss Buss—
“Her sympathy with young people was by no means limited to the
serious side of things, or to her own remembered experiences.
Her imagination, with the tender, happiness-loving heart behind,
held her in touch with all the innocent gaieties, and even
vanities of youth. Many will remember her pleasant parties at
Cambridge, including some dances, and the delightful way in
which she acted the part of motherly chaperon, never tired,
never in a hurry to get to the end, never distressed by those
modifications in the order and punctuality of meals which youth
regards as a normal part of merry-making. Respecting the
vanities, I remember telling her on one occasion that my niece
was going to her first ‘grown-up’ dance. ‘There are such pretty
shoes nowadays for girls,’ she said, ‘I hope you have got her
something very pretty. A girl’s first dance comes only once.’”
Miss Newman tells a similar tale of a time when, as they were together
at Matlock, Miss Buss asked her to help choose some amber for a birthday
present, asking her opinion and advice. Miss Newman had no idea that
Miss Buss knew that the next day was her birthday; but when the birthday
came she found the amber on her table, with a card of good wishes.
Mrs. Bryant says also that—
“when boys were in question, her sympathy was even more
delightful. In her family experience, boys had predominated,
though she had always been a girl-like girl, not given to
participation in boys’ games. Her tolerance for boys, their
muddy boots and disturbing household ways, was quite unlimited,
though doubtless, and probably for that very reason, no boy of
her circle would have thought of disobeying her. I have spent
more than one happy holiday with her and her nephews in the
country, and know how to appreciate her rare sympathy with our
more athletic ideas of pleasure, and the ease with which her
plans would fall in with ours. Once I was with her in Killarney,
and wanted to climb Carn-Tual. ‘I want to go for a climb
to-morrow,’ she said. ‘It will suit me excellently to drive to
the foot of your mountain, and there will be plenty to amuse me
while you go up.’”
Her intensity of vital power kept her in touch with all young life. The
strong love of little children, which was one of her most marked
characteristics, was only the lovely blossoming of this vigorous growth;
nothing refreshed her more, when she was tired of work, or worn with
worries, than to have a “baby-show” of her nephews and nieces in their
day, and then of their children and the children of old pupils. She
liked just a few at a time, so that she might thoroughly enjoy them,
when she would herself get out toys from her stores, watching the play
while she and the mothers told stories of child wit and wisdom. One of
her very latest pleasures in life was the visit of a little new
namesake—a tiny “Frances Mary,” who will rejoice in the name though she
can have no memory of the kind face that brightened at the sight of her
baby ways—and one of her last quite coherent remarks was an inquiry for
“little curly-head,” as she called her nephew’s little son.
Here is a characteristic little story told by Mrs. Pierson—
“At the house of an old friend the other day I met a young
married lady with her baby. We were talking of Miss Buss, and
she said, ‘I only saw her once, when I was five years old, but I
have never forgotten her. She saved me from a cruel nurse who
ran away from me, and hid in the coal-yards near Chalk Farm
Station, while I cried because I was lost. A lady came by and
took my hand and comforted me and asked me where I lived. “Near
some mountains—red mountains,” I said, and her quick perception
divined that I meant some new houses being built near Primrose
Hill. She took me in the direction of Oppidan’s Road, where I
soon recognized my home; and, after her interview with my
mother, I need not say the nurse had to leave.’”
It is delightful to read Miss Buss’ holiday letters about the children,
who were often with their aunt while their parents went for rest and
change. While the world was standing in awe of the “eminent
educationalist” she was inditing sweet letters full of babytalk, of wise
counsel hid in nonsense, or of the affection of which her heart was so
full—
“1865.
“MY DEAR LITTLE MOTHER,
“Oh! what a boy is ours! to talk about ‘jolly’! Naughty
little monkey! We want a three-year old, not a grown-up boy.
Kiss him thousands of times for his loving Arnie, whose heart
goes out to him twenty times a day at least. She pictures to
herself, over and over again, the sweet little shy face on the
pier, and her boy waiting to throw himself into her arms when
she lands.
“I went last night to see Léonie, more especially to get a kiss
of Nina.”
“Stockholm, August 30, 1871.
“MY DEAR LITTLE MOTHER,
“You do not deserve, by the way, to be the mother of sons!
You want sweet little goody children—girls—who will sit still,
and be made fine, always do what they are told (in public!),
never make a noise, and be clever, well-informed children, who
will answer any question (provided it be given in the form
printed in their books), write beautifully, and _spell_
splendidly! Thank goodness! ‘_my_’ child is not one of those
dear darling little humbugs. Why, I am quite proud of his
writing, and his spelling wants time, of course. How many of
Miss F.’s class spell better than he? None, of course. Nor do
Nina and May-May spell better. Their French bothers them. Frank
is a sensible, well-informed lad for his age, and, above all, he
has a desire for knowledge. Education is not reading and
writing, but means a desire to acquire information. As for
Arthur, he is a darling; kiss him for his Arnie.”
“1864.
“My dear darling ba-lamb (lioness rather) sister, I hunger and
thirst after you and our boy to a painful degree. It is very
distressing, but as I grow older I find my heart-strings are
really pulled violently by a select few. It is quite painful to
have a heart and feel its existence.
“God bless you all, prays your loving sister
“FANNY.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER IV.
FRIENDSHIPS.
“A true friend is one that makes us do all we can; those who
trust us, educate us.”
“To _have_ friends one must _be_ a friend,” was true of this life on
both sides. She _was_ a friend, and she _had_ friends in abundance. Of
her women-friends we have had full proof, and we may count almost as
many men who mourn her loss with feeling scarcely less intense. Many who
are less known to fame will echo words like these from some of the
leaders in education. The Bishop of Winchester writes of her as “one of
the truest, wisest, and ablest women it has ever been my privilege to
know and esteem as a friend.” Dr. W. G. Bell, of Cambridge, adds, “Only
those who had the privilege of being called her friend realized how
faithful she was to her friendships, as well as loyal to the work which
was so dear to her.” Dr. Wormell, on hearing of the fatal nature of her
illness, speaks from a full heart—
“The news you give me fills me with sadness. Miss Buss gave me
her helping hand and cheering smile when I had few friends, and
had scarcely crept from obscurity. It is not easy for me to say
what is the depth and length and breadth of my affection for
her—in all dimensions it is beyond measure. I grieve as one who
suffers irreparable loss, and can scarcely ask myself what of
others who have been closer to her?”
Dr. Hiron says that—
“illness prevents the privilege of joining those who will gather
in large numbers to do her honour. But though not present in
person I shall be with them in spirit, and in the hearty desire
to give to her of the fullest appreciation of her personal
qualities and of her great services to the cause of education,
particularly of the higher education of women.
“I first met her at Dr. Hodgson’s, nearly twenty-five years ago.
For many years I saw a great deal of her, especially at the time
when I was secretary of the Girls’ Public Day School Company.
From the first I was profoundly impressed by her insight into
educational problems, but, most of all, by her devotion, heart
and soul, to the work to which she had put her hand.”
Mr. Storr speaks not only as an educationalist but as a friend—
“I mourn a very old and very true friend. I always felt with her
that, differ as we might—and we often differed on educational
politics—she was absolutely single-eyed, and her judgment was
never warped by personal ambition or _arrière pensée_. My girls,
as you know, were greatly attached to her, and I owe her much as
having set them the example of a noble-minded, generous,
great-souled woman.”
Her influence over young men, the friends of her nephews, or brothers of
her pupils, was very remarkable, and it would not be easy to count the
number who can add to the words of one of the college friends of the
Rev. Francis F. Buss—
“To me your aunt’s friendship was a most valued privilege, and I
owe very much to her both on account of her personal influence
over me, and the many pleasant friendships she made for me; and
last, but not least, that she was one of the first people to
introduce me to ladies’ society at all.”
Her letters to her nephew while at Cambridge quite explain this
influence. She was not in the least afraid of young men, but was her own
real true self always, thus touching the reality below their surface
pretences. Here is one of her grave letters—
“I am very deep in work, but I manage to find time for you, and
to think of you and your approaching ordination. You are about
to take the most serious step in your life, and I hope and pray
that it may be blessed to you and to those among whom you may
have to work during the rest of your life. It is a noble
profession, but one that entails much self-control and
self-sacrifice. But if you think chiefly of the work to which
you are called, and not of yourself, you will be useful and
happy. You must not think too much about what people may say or
think of you, but simply do your work faithfully and leave the
results. You are disposed to mind ‘Mrs. Grundy’ too much, my
very dear boy, but this is not a good thing if carried to
excess. To be careful in imagination, to put one’s self into the
place of another, is right, but this is the opposite of minding
‘Mrs. Grundy.’”
These letters are full of wisdom as well as of tender thoughtfulness.
She wanted him to profit to the full by the advantages which she
esteemed so highly.
“At Cambridge, more than anywhere else,” she says (for the
moment forgetting Oxford), “is to be found the highest product,
so far, of human civilization. Men there get the highest culture
ever yet attained, and the ‘Dons’ are also the most finished
gentlemen. There is an indescribable something in the bearing,
air, tone of voice even, of a Cambridge man which I believe he
never loses all his life. But the men are most courteous towards
women: that is one distinct mark of their training. I have never
heard a rough word nor seen a rough act towards women, and I
want you to become such a man as the best men in your
University.”
At the same time she is interested in the smallest details of the new
life, as when she writes—
“It was a great delight to me to see you in your rooms. But the
sofa is rather shabby. Shall I send you an Afghan rug to throw
over it? Tell me. Perhaps you would rather choose one for
yourself?”
But of all the friends of whom she thought and for whom she cared time
would fail to tell. Her sky was full of “bright particular stars,” each
moving in its own orbit. Perhaps her regard may have been most fixed by
the “double-stars,” of which there were many brilliant examples. Her
“dual friendships” seemed to have doubled strength and joy for her. It
was either that her friends married to please her as well as each other,
or that she could at the same time include divergent characters; but all
her life she was singularly happy in her married friends.
Her ideal of family life was high, as we see from an interesting letter
written from Bonaly in September, 1877—
“As I travelled here, on Tuesday, by way of Kendal and Carlisle,
my mind was full of you. You remember our journey together to
Edinburgh? I left Salisbury, on Monday, in a dreadful storm of
rain. It is much colder here. Along the road, it was quite
sorrowful to see the sheaves of corn standing in water! Whole
fields, too, are lying under water.
“During my railway journey here, and one last Saturday to
Cheltenham, I read ‘Kingsley’s Life.’ It is intensely
interesting, and is to me like a strong tonic. It braces one up
and leaves strength behind. How he suffered in middle life, and
how bravely he bore up, under undeserved blame, is all told, and
how loving, tender, and faithful he was as a husband.
“His married life is a beautiful poem. Mrs. Kingsley was
everything to him. For her sake, he revered all womanhood. One
of his children speaks of the happy evenings at Eversley Rectory
when ‘father sat with his hand in mother’s,’ and poured out his
brave, strong words for wife and children only.
“I esteem it one of the proud moments in my life, when Canon
Kingsley thought it worth while to stand and talk with Miss
Chessar and me about our school, and expressed his wish to visit
us—a wish never fulfilled. His life is so much more after my
heart than Harriet Martineau’s, which I have also been looking
at. Her strictures on men and women are so harsh—there was
little love and tenderness in her nature, and she seems always
to say hard things—things which leave a sting behind. I shudder
at her absence of all belief, and wonder how she could bear life
after ceasing to believe in a personal God and immortality.
Kingsley’s life is an antidote to hers.”
In early days Mr. and Mrs. Laing held equal rank in her regard. Then her
brothers—her _friends_ as well as kin—gave her dear friends as well as
loved sisters in their wives. Here is a pretty little note which was
written on their wedding-day to Mr. and Mrs. Septimus Buss, addressed to
“Dear old boy—Dear little ‘coz.’” After describing the later events of
the wedding-day, she says of the wife of the vicar—
“Mrs. N. is a dear! She said she was much interested in your
wedding, as she had a hand in it, and liked old Sep, and she
spoke so nicely about him in particular, and things in general,
that I fell in love with her; and then, to complete her victory,
she admired Léonie, my dear ‘old’ sister. Now, did she not go
the right way to win me for ever?”
She had not lost this sprightly style in writing, in 1873, of the change
which took the Rev. Septimus Buss from the chaplaincy of St. Pancras
Workhouse to the Rectory of Wapping—
“‘Many a time and oft’ have I thought of you and wished to be a
bird, that I might fly to you. But even you cannot guess what
the last fortnight has been!
“I was dictating this morning ‘du déplorable sort des choses
humaines, qui veut qu’au succès social soient toujours mêlées
des disgrâces, et que nos joies soient toujours accompagnées de
tristesses.’
“My dear boy Sep has a living offered him by the bishop—at last!
The great desire of my heart (outside the work—well, no!—inside
everything) has been to see him out of the workhouse! Well, he
is to go to Wapping.... How true it is that nothing is simple
and single....”
In 1881 she writes to the Rev. Septimus Buss on his transference to the
Vicarage of Shoreditch—
“I am so thankful to know of your promotion. You both deserve
it, for you are model parish chiefs. Shoreditch must be very
poor, judging from the little one sees in passing through
it—only I suppose it is not damp. Dear little mother, I hope you
will like the place. Anyhow, it is better than Wapping.”
Of another dual friendship we have a charming glimpse in a note to Dr.
J. G. Fitch, in response to the gift of his first book—
“Since seeing you, I have looked at the dedication, and am much
touched by it.
“It is a great privilege and happiness to know such a home as
yours.
“Lately, I have been talking to my young people about women’s
duties, and I quoted Mills’ dedication to ‘Liberty,’ De
Toqueville’s tribute to his wife, and others. Yours is but
another example of the wife’s ‘work and counsel’ which enables a
man to do and ‘write things useful.’
“I thank you most warmly for the book itself, for the kind words
with which it was accompanied, and I also thank you for the
dedication, because, through the ‘dearest wife,’ it is a tribute
to all women.”
Also in the home of Dr. and Mrs. Hodgson, she found full scope for the
strong element of romance which never died out of her nature. Some part
of her holiday was always spent with them, and she expanded to the full
in these congenial surroundings. They lived for a time in London; then
at Bournemouth, where Mrs. Hodgson went to be near her father, Sir
Joshua Walmsley; and finally at Bonaly, when Dr. Hodgson filled the
Chair of Economic Science in Edinburgh, each home being more charming
than the last.
She first writes of these visits to me in 1872—
“My Bournemouth visit has been most pleasant, as indeed my
visits to Mrs. Hodgson always are. She is one of the most
lovable, loving, and unselfish women I know, and her home-life
is a constant lesson. She is one of those whom I dearly love,
and who are necessary to me. Yet, seven years ago, I did not
know her. Her father’s illness and death have tried her much
lately, and Dr. Hodgson’s absence in Edinburgh throws much
responsibility on her.”
In 1858, Dr. Hodgson was Assistant-Commissioner on the First Royal
Commission of Inquiry into Primary Education, and he probably became
interested in Miss Buss in connection with her evidence before the
Secondary Commission, in 1865. After that date, he gave his lectures on
Physiology and Political Economy in her school, and acquaintance ripened
into friendship. Three thick note-books, in her own writing, testify to
her interest in the lectures, as well as to her indomitable energy and
industry.
In 1873, she says—
“The temptation to go to Bradford is immense. My dear friend,
Dr. Hodgson, who has done more for me intellectually than any
man, except Mr. Laing, in my whole life, is president! But to go
from Friday to Monday would hardly be of any use, would it? And
I could not be absent a week. Can we find out _when_ the papers
are read?
“I am so driven! It is really dreadful, and I feel so weary that
I can hardly bear myself. But when the machine is once wound up
and set going, I get better.
“I fear that Bradford meeting will clash with our Board meeting.
October 8th, is it not? Our meeting will be very important, and
I must have _hours_ of leisure to compare the schemes and
annotate them.”
During Dr. Hodgson’s residence in London, before going to Bournemouth,
his house was full of interest to Miss Buss, taking the same place in
her life as Mr. Laing’s had done as a meeting-point for persons with
whom she was in sympathy. Dr. Hiron mentions one eventful dinner-party,
which began the friendship between Mr. and Mrs. Fitch and Miss Buss, as
well as with himself.
There are a few words to her sister, which show the influence of Dr.
Hodgson from 1865, and onwards—
“1865.
“Miss Davies has asked me to meet Miss Clough of Ambleside (who
drew up a plan for co-operation among teachers), Miss Bostock,
and other educational ladies. I cannot help feeling that our new
friend, to whom I am so devoted and grateful, has had greatly to
do with my position lately. It is almost indefinable, but it
would seem as if he had set a stamp on me, so to speak.
Certainly the Cambridge Examination did something—introduced me
to him, for example—but it is only since Christmas that so many
little courtesies have been paid me, officially, I mean. Only
one other person so helped me.”
In some early letters we have descriptions of life at Bonaly Tower,
which indicate the kind of letters she might have written if life had
been less hurried—
“Newcastle-on-Tyne, Jan. 7, 1873.
“I liked Mr. Knox quite as much last Wednesday. He gave me a
hearty welcome, and asked most affectionately for you. From what
Dr. Hodgson says, he is not doing so much on the Merchants’
Company Schools as he was. I lunched at Mr. Pryde’s house, and
then went with him and Mrs. Pryde to the ‘Women’s Medical
Educational Meeting.’ For the first time I heard Miss Jex-Blake
speak; she spoke well. Mr. P. seems sensible and liberal in his
ideas. When you and I were in Edinburgh, it seems Mrs. P. and
two of their children had scarlet fever, and he himself was in
lodgings, away from ‘his own fireside.’ Mrs. P. is quite
‘advanced,’ and, as her husband said, ‘is the most refractory
parent’ he has to do with. ‘She was always wanting something’
(he said before her), ‘or not wanting something else.’ She did
not like her girls to learn so much writing or sewing, for
instance. Their second girl is to be brought up for medicine.
So, you see, Mr. and Mrs. P. must be advanced.
“One day last week, we, _i.e._ Mrs. H., Dr. H., and I went to
lunch with Mrs. MacLaren. Mr. M. is Member for Edinburgh, and
Mrs. and Miss M., as you will perhaps remember, are working for
the Women’s Suffrage. I met there Dr. Guthrie’s youngest son, a
very fine young man, who made a strong impression on me. He is
evidently as fine in mind as in person.”
In speaking of her visits, she had always much to say of the interesting
persons whom she met at Bonaly, and of the talk she so thoroughly
appreciated, well described under the heading, “The Professor at the
Breakfast-Table,” in Mr. Meiklejohn’s “Life of Dr. Hodgson,” as—
“the sparkling table-talk, apt illustration, and racy anecdote
with which the doctor enlivened all the time we sat at table.
Without monopolizing the talk, he never allowed it to flag; and
by manifesting the kindliest interest in the sayings and doings
of all, he induced even the shyest to take his part in a manner
that must have astonished him when he came to look back upon
it.”
Mrs. Hodgson, too, had so much grace and kindness that even this shyest
of her guests was made so much at home as to be “led to imagine that he
must have sat in that particular corner hundreds of times before, though
now for the first time conscious of it.”
Another of Miss Buss’ letters (Sept. 8, 1874) gives an account of the
place itself—
“Bonaly, Sept. 8, 1874.
“Edinburgh, to me, is full of you! So you have been constantly
in my mind since my arrival here, last Friday night.
“Bonaly is five miles out of Edinburgh, but, on a clear day,
there is a splendid view of town, castle, and Arthur’s Seat.
Only, a ‘clear day’ is not a common article, for, since Friday,
I have seen little external sunshine, though, inside, there is
plenty. But Mrs. Hodgson herself is confined to bed, and looks
so fragile that a breath might blow her away. We trust, however,
that she ‘has turned the corner,’ as the doctor says she may be
taken into another room to-day....
“This house is beautifully situated in twenty-eight acres of its
own grounds, and there are hills upon hills all round, except on
the Edinburgh side. Two tiny mountain ‘burns,’ or streams, run
through the grounds, with that constant blue haze over them—a
touch of beauty which we got rarely in the Alps. In these
northern latitudes, it seems to me that there never is the
clear, cloudless sky which we know as the _Italian_, but there
is another kind of beauty—that of the greyish-blue haze which
envelopes everything with a soft and indescribably beautiful
mantle.
“In consequence of Mrs. Hodgson’s health, I left my dear boy at
home, but if he had come, he and George (Dr. H.’s son) would
have been happy together.
“Mr. Knox is expected here on Thursday. He has been asked to
meet me, and I hope he will come. How much you and I liked him.
Miss Blyth is also invited.
“I am writing in the midst of snatches of talk, which makes it
difficult to know what I am writing, but you will not mind jerky
sentences, with no particular thread of connection?...
“There is a capital article on Woman’s Suffrage in this month’s
_Macmillan_; it is by Prof. Cairnes, in answer to Goldwin
Smith’s attack. You do not care so much for this question as I
do, so will scarcely feel the same interest in it.
“Is Agnes pretty well? What is she doing, I wonder? Will you
give her my dear love when you write? There is a very charming
letter from Miss Hierta to me, which shall be sent to you when I
know where you are. What a very sweet woman she is!
“My Hythe holiday was very pleasant; we were such a large family
party. Did I tell you what darlings Frank’s brothers are? Arthur
(six years old) is quite a picture of infant beauty, with his
blue eyes and curly golden hair; and he says such funny things
and makes droll mistakes. He rushed at me once, saying, ‘Arnie,
look at my _apostles_!’ ‘Your what?’ ‘Apostles.’ I found he
meant _fossils_!
“Another day he was reading: ‘And she sung a—a _hullabaloo_!’ He
meant _lullaby_.
“Then the baby-boy, whose only experience of trees and green
grass is the disused churchyard at Wapping, insisted on calling
every green field and clump of trees a ‘nice churchyard!’ Was it
not pathetic?
“If you are writing to Miss Hopkins, please remember me most
kindly to her, and tell her I congratulate her on Miss
Robinson’s success: no doubt she has largely contributed to it.
“I see Miss Robinson has gained her point, and there is really a
Soldier’s Institute at Portsmouth. The military element is
strong at Hythe, in the School of Musketry, and we can see how
it is that the scarlet uniform and gold trimmings are so
popular. To poor people the fine clothes and certain pay must be
very attractive. Contrast the dress and appearance of an
agricultural labourer with that of the labourer who has
enlisted! And then think of the easy life of the latter. Do not
fancy _my_ estimate of soldiers is altered. I am looking at them
from the point of view of the very poor, to whom to have a
soldier son or brother must be a grand promotion.
“Mr. Knox came here on Thursday. I like him still very much, and
he likes you and me. He asked most kindly after you. He also
sent a copy of ‘A Night and Day on board the _Mars_’ to be
forwarded to you, which I duly sent off. You know he is a
staunch teetotaller, and is working desperately in the cause. He
said he had known seventy-five men, of his _own_ position,
ruined by drink, and Dr. Hodgson told me afterwards that this
was no exaggeration. The vice of drunkenness seems to prevail
here more than in London, at least one hears more of it.
“Mr. Knox has nothing now to do with the Company’s schools, but
has given himself up to rescuing _boys_ (I asked him where were
the _girls_?), and has been violently attacked for _kidnapping_
them. An absurd charge, of course. I fear he is not cold and
hardheaded, like the typical Scotchman. But, all the same, I
like him whenever I see him.
“How true is what you say about the money matters of women! But
we are breaking through many of these things, and a later
generation of women will know what independence means. I hope
they will use it properly, for, after all, we cannot be
independent of each other. We have to live in a community.”
“Bonaly, Sept. 8, 1874.
“Your long and interesting letter has just come, dear Annie,
after one from me to you is written, sealed up, and put in the
post-bag.
“I will read the letter in the _Spectator_. It seems to me that
Tyndall only says what you say, namely, that science, so far as
he knows, cannot _prove_ God and immortality. But I do not see
why he need have said as much as he did, except that he is
essentially _aggressive_.
“That people are unjust to him, I admit, and that this ignorance
of his subject and injustice drive him to attack.”
“Bonaly, Sept. 14, 1874.
“I return Mr. S.’s letter, with which Dr. Hodgson was much
amused, as was I. He admired J.’s poem, _Vivia Perpetua_, very
much, and said how good and sweet it was. He also begged me to
ask her whether she knows the ‘Vivia Perpetua’ of Mrs. Flower
Adams, whose sister Sarah is well known for her hymns. He
thought J.’s little poem might well do prefixed to the drama by
Mrs. Adams.
“My dear Mrs. Hodgson is still in bed, where she lies so
patiently that she is a living lesson to me. It is curious, but
she always makes me feel gentle and soft—a lesson I constantly
need, and no one else produces the same effect on me. Had I seen
her before my interview with E. D., the latter would not have
been frightened at my—what shall I say?—_violence!_
“You have a mesmerizing effect on me, but your influence is
quite different—more on the intellectual side, I think. Mrs.
Hodgson is the sweetest, brightest, most fairy-like woman I have
ever known; and the points of contact between her and me are so
many. I have such strong affection and respect for her
husband—he is _so clever_, and inspires one with a kind of awe
for his knowledge (which is in a line I can follow), his
brilliancy, his wonderful power of expression, his tenderness,
his extreme conscientiousness, and his resource. But no one
would venture to take a liberty with him, and I can well imagine
the respectful awe in which his pupils hold him. Then the eldest
boy is so near Frank’s age, and I have had so much to do with
him that he is very dear to me. The two little girls are
perfectly charming.
“Then the house is full of books, pictures, statues, busts, etc.
Every side of my taste is represented, and the books especially
are always delightful to me. I suppose the collection of
educational works is quite unique. Dr. H.’s religious views are
very independent of theology; but, as I have said, he is
intensely reverent, and respects other people’s opinions. His
popularity with his Class in University is immense, as I heard
on Saturday, and I can well understand it is so.
“Mrs. H. is one of those women who is absolutely unselfish. Her
unselfishness extends _beyond_ husband and children, and she can
always speak that soft word that turns away wrath. They are well
matched. She is dependent and clinging, in the best sense, and
he is intensely strong....
“I should like some copies of J.’s ‘Lady Jane Grey.’ Will you
give her my love and ask her?
“When I get home I must get a copy of ‘Hertha’ from Mudie’s. I
know there is one there.
“I shall get back (D.V.) refreshed in every way—intellectually,
physically and morally, and spiritually too, I hope.”
In 1880 came the end of this bright chapter of her life. The death of
Dr. Hodgson brought back the sufferings of the earlier loss in 1860,
when Mr. Laing’s death left so great a blank. Between 1875 and 1880 Miss
Buss had lost her father, and Mr. and Mrs. Payne, and now came the death
of Dr. Hodgson and Miss Chessar in the same month, to all of whom she
had been linked not only by the ordinary ties of life, in more than
ordinary strength, but also by very special sympathy in her personal
work.
Extracts from her letters tell their own story. She and Dr. Hodgson,
with Miss Chessar, Miss Caroline Haddon, Miss Franks, and some others,
had gone to a great educational congress held in Brussels, in which many
of them were to take active part. On August 21 Miss Buss writes to her
sister—
“A very pleasant journey yesterday. The water quite smooth, and
hardly any one ill. We are at present fourteen people and are
shaking down. I am now going to the Bureau to get my ticket for
the Teachers’ Conference, and then to the Exhibition.”
“Aug. 23.
“I am sorry to tell you that Dr. Hodgson is very ill. He has had
to come to our place, as really he could not be left. I am now
writing for an English doctor. If necessary, I must telegraph to
Mrs. Hodgson, or, if possible, must return with him to London,
telegraphing for her to meet him. It is very sad. He thinks it
is some heart affection, but no one can tell till the doctor has
been.”
“Aug. 24.
“Dr. H. is so ill that it is feared he will die.
“I have telegrammed to Mrs. Hodgson, but she cannot get here
till to-night at the earliest. I have been praying most
earnestly that he may live to see her. His lungs are congested,
and he breathes just as our father used to do.
“I have now been with him thirty hours, but a most kind and
experienced teacher, Mr. Harris, a friend of Miss Haddon’s, is
chief nurse.”
On August 17, before leaving Edinburgh, Dr. Hodgson had written to his
friend Mr. A. Ireland—
“My courage fails me as the time draws near for going to
Belgium. For the first time in my life the thought of illness
away from home hangs upon me. I have had queer sensations and
pains in the heart.... The educational conference lasts from the
22nd to 29th inst. I have just received a huge 8vo. volume of
1000 pages, and 3 lbs. 9½ ozs. in weight, containing preliminary
reports for the six sections into which the conference is
divided.”
While in London he consulted a medical man, who assured him that he was
suffering only from indigestion.
But the fatigue and heat of travelling brought on attack after attack of
_angina pectoris_, and on the evening of August 24 the end came.
Of this terrible three days Miss Buss writes—
“I do not think there has ever been so awful a time in my life;
in other griefs my brothers were by my side, and able to help.
In this, everything has fallen on me, and in a foreign country,
too. Had it not been for Miss C. Haddon and Mr. Harris it would
not have been physically possible for me to bear what I have had
to go through. Also the girls of my party were very helpful.
“Dear Mrs. Hodgson does not, as she says, at present understand
things. It is a dream to her: she arrived just twelve hours too
late.
“It is too real to me to be a dream; his dear voice is still
sounding in my ears; he was so patient and so grateful, thanking
us all each time we gave him seltzer-water, etc.
“But I had no idea of death till within a few hours of the end.
“I was with him just thirty-seven hours. He called for me at
five o’clock on Monday morning. I went at once and gave him some
brandy, and then sent for the doctor while Miss Chessar stayed
with him.
“Dearest mother, I long to have you and my boy safe in my
arms—to make sure of you both.
“How I loved my dear friend no words can express. How glad I was
to have him as my guest, and to travel with him! Such an
opportunity had never occurred before.”
From this date some part of Miss Buss’ holiday was always spent with
Mrs. Hodgson, whose own words, after her friend had been taken from her,
show what this friendship was to her also,
“You ask me to tell you something of my friendship with Miss
Buss. I could only do so by giving you a long list of kindnesses
received from her, kindnesses which made one wonder how a woman
leading such a busy life could remember such things as
birthdays, not only of one’s own, but of one’s children and
grandchildren, none of whom were ever forgotten. The terrible
anxiety she went through at Brussels in 1880, during the
Educational Congress there, must have told heavily on her
nerves, already sorely taxed. My husband went with her to
Brussels, and when she found him ill and suffering at his hotel,
she took him to her lodgings and gave up one of her rooms, which
at that time were very difficult to get, Brussels being very
full, and devoted herself to nursing him night and day for the
short and fatal illness. I can never tell you of all she went
through to help me, but can only say that when we arrived at
Bonaly Tower, near Edinburgh, where we brought our beloved, she
was very ill, the result of what she had gone through, not only
to nurse her old friend, but when all was over to help and
comfort me, utterly forgetful of self. Ever since that sad time
she has been more than a sister to me. I fear now I took
advantage of her wonderful goodness, her wise judgment, her
strict sense of justice, her unselfishness, and learned more and
more to consult her, who was the friend and helper of all who
stood in need of help. To me her loss is irreparable, and I
believe I am only one of a great many who went to her in times
of trouble.”
But this sorrowful experience was not the only grief of that year, for
Miss Chessar never left Brussels again, surviving Dr. Hodgson less than
a month. She had not been strong, but no one had in the least
anticipated anything serious, and this second blow, following so closely
on the first, greatly affected Miss Buss, who thus lost by one stroke
the two persons who were the greatest help and strength in her work.
Like herself, they were both teachers of remarkable power, and the three
friends had set themselves to raise the general standard of teaching,
while at the same time their sympathies in other directions cemented a
close friendship.
The force of this double loss is given very clearly in the replies from
Mrs. Grey and Miss Shirreff to letters from Miss Buss, these letters
themselves not being attainable—
“Meran,
“Sept. 20, 1880.
“MY DEAR MISS BUSS,
“It was only yesterday that we heard, from Miss Brough, of
the death of Miss Chessar, and I write in both our names to
express our deep and affectionate sympathy with you in this
second, and, I fear, even heavier loss, coming so soon after Dr.
Hodgson’s death. Our own sense of loss is very heavy; though we
knew her so little in private life, she had inspired us with
real and warm personal regard, besides admiration for her
remarkable powers. We are anxious that a fitting obituary notice
should appear in the _Journal_, if it is not already done, and
have written to Miss Brough to get it done. Will you help her to
do full justice to your common friend? And please, whenever you
have a moment’s leisure, let us hear how you are yourself.
“It grieves us to hear how your sorely needed holiday has been
turned into a day of sadness and mourning by these two deaths.
Dr. Hodgson’s must have been such a terrible shock, and from its
circumstances have brought upon you so much to try you, in
addition to the personal loss. We women have lost in him a
friend such as we shall not see again, and he was one of the few
left in this dull generation who could fight with wit as well as
earnestness, and had always a good story to clinch an argument.
“I cannot hear of all the good work going on without a pang at
being so unable to join in any of it, and all my idleness and
care of my useless self has not brought me any nearer, that I
can see or feel, towards ever joining in it again!... We go to
Florence and then to Rome, where I hope we shall see you in the
Christmas holidays. With love from us both, ever, dear Miss
Buss,
“Your affectionate
“MARIA G. GREY.”
In November, Mrs. Grey writes again—
“Your letter made us very sad. The loss of two such friends as
Dr. Hodgson and Miss Chessar coming upon you under such
circumstances, and so close together, was enough to break you
down utterly, but, as you do not mention your health, we trust
it did not suffer. We cannot help hoping that the distressing
effect will have worn away enough to let your old elasticity of
spirits and love of Rome restore you, and that we may yet have
the pleasure of welcoming you here at Christmas.”
Miss Buss had written to say that Rome was not possible for this year,
and in response Miss Shirreff speaks of one part of her letter—
“How true is what you say of the terrible void in one’s life
from the loss of early friends, but, believe me, dear Miss Buss,
later friendships may become very close and dear, and you are
far indeed from having overpast the age for making them. Those
to whom mental sympathy has always been the strong, if not the
strongest, link in friendship, have in this case a great
advantage over others, because, while we outlive other and
lighter needs of our nature, the need for mental companionship
never is lost, and this enjoyment can never cease to give, after
close affection, the truest zest to life. It is therefore never
too late to meet with it, though we become slower in discerning
it when it exists. But you have not reached that point, and with
the full vigour of mental faculty you are ready to seize the
full enjoyment of what responds to your own nature. In hours of
sorrow we are so apt to feel the burden of years that we
acquiesce too readily in the privations they seem to bring.
“I hope your quiet holiday-time spent with your old friend will
send you back strengthened and hopeful to your work. I cannot
express how much we feel your goodness in having added to it the
guidance of this new school (the Maria Grey Training School)
through its difficult early years. Mrs. Grey joins in love, and
says she will write another day.
“Ever affectionately yours,
“EMILY A. SHIRREFF.”
The visit to Mrs. Hodgson during the holidays did much to comfort them
both, and to strengthen the bond that never relaxed to the end. The very
latest pleasure of Miss Buss’ life, in the bright interval that preceded
the fatal illness, was a visit at Myra from this loved and loving
friend.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER V.
REST.
“One who never turned his back, but marched straightforward;
Never doubted clouds would break; Never deemed, though right
were worsted, wrong would triumph; Held we fall to rise, are
baffled to fight better, Sleep to wake!”
R. BROWNING.
Strangers might easily receive the impression that Miss Buss was one of
those happy persons who, being blessed with an iron constitution, do not
know what illness means. This was, however, very far from the fact; for
with a temperament so intensely sensitive, she was in reality one of the
women who can be as ill as they choose to be; and a good deal of her
apparent vigour lay in the strength of the will which elected _not_ to
be ill. “Great minds have wills, where feeble ones have wishes.” It was
just because she so well knew what could be done by self-control that
she exacted so much self-control from all around her. From experience
she knew how largely the body may be made the instrument of the spirit,
and for much of her time she kept going by sheer force of that
indomitable will.
It was because she carried this effort too far, in exacting from her
woman’s strength the work that might have contented several strong men,
that she grew old before her time, and finally broke down, paying the
price of overstrain for some years before the end came.
All that we can hear of her early life gives the impression of perfect
temper, of unfailing composure, of unbroken self-command. It is only in
later years, when her great work was completed, that we find the nervous
irritability that is the price paid for over-work, or, more truly, of
over-worry, since it is not work that kills, but worry.
So much did all around her rely on her strength and vigour that it is
with surprise we note the recurrence in her letters of such passages as
these, even so many years ago:—
“September, 1872.
“It is simply sickening to think of the crowds who come to me,
and I have been so ailing in health that I have only managed to
get along at all by sitting with Berlin woolwork in the evening,
going to no meetings, and getting to bed at ten o’clock. Also,
though to tell _you_ this is dreadful, I have got through this
week only on champagne twice a day, with doses of iron!
“The champagne has, I trust, done its work and set me up, so I
hope to go on without any more until next time! My throat has
been affected without intermission this term, and the sleepless
nights have almost driven me to opiates or to a doctor. But I
think I am better, and the holidays are coming near.
“This is the history of every term, however, and the question
will arise, how long such a strain can be borne? I do my best to
keep in health, but over-strained nature will have her way
sometimes. This is perhaps a new light on my inner life. But, my
dear Annie, remember _every one_ thinks I am a proper person on
whom to make claims....”
This inability to meet claims to which she would so gladly have given
full space was a very wearing part of the overcrowding of her life. Here
is a regret that she was compelled to seem to neglect a friend for whom
she would have done anything in her power:—
“Her letter pains me, in a sense, because I know how heavy is
the trial of waiting and doing nothing when there is the will to
work. If only I had some leisure I might go to her and _talk_
with her.
“But I can give nothing except to those who can come to me, and
not always, or even often, then. Do not say anything. As the
work goes on, we may see a way to keep her interested in, and
cognizant of, our part of it.
“I had no idea of how much she had cared for me in the past
days, and it is very touching to know it.”
“March, 1873.
“... I hope you have not been thinking harshly of me for not
answering your note or calling, but if you have, you must in
imagination take my place, which is at all times fit to be
occupied by ten ordinary women, but which, at the end of the
_school year_, with all the examinations and prizes, is large
enough for twenty.”
“December 9, 1873.
“I am going to bed now (eight o’clock), and hope to be better
for a night’s rest.
“Here I am again a prisoner in my room! A sore throat is the
main cause....
“But I am generally out of sorts. I am learning that I cannot do
as I used, and that body will dominate mind and will.
“I fear you are no better. You had my news? It seems to me quite
foolish for me to be ill and unable to do my work when the path
became suddenly clear, and all so quiet too!...
“Dearest Annie, my love to you. Lately I have often seemed to
want you, but I have never been so long and so completely broken
down—except there was organic disease, when I had fever—as I
have this term, and therefore unable to go to you.
“There is a lecture at the College of Preceptors to-morrow
night, on ‘English as a Means of Philological Instruction,’ by
Dr. Morris—the Morris. 7.30. Could you go? If so, could you join
me here a few minutes before seven? Only Miss Fawcett is going.
“I am better in myself, but cannot yet stand upright or walk
about. Patience is teaching me a great lesson, and I hope I am
learning it, in part, at least.
“... I really think there have never been so many petty worries
crowded together.
“It is all very well for men to say ‘never mind.’ However, what
is to be will be, and strength comes with the need.
“I am much better in health. Why, do you think? I went on
Saturday to my uncle’s perfectly quiet house, and out of the 48
hours slept 25!—2½ hours each afternoon, and 10 hours each
night.
“I am feeling so much better to-day—I slept _well_ last night.
But one of the distressing signs of over-work is disturbed and
light sleep, and my brain is so constantly at work in day-time
that I need deep sleep. So cause and effect act and react.
“My heart has been wrung too by Mr. Payne’s death. Life seems so
full of anguish as one gets older, that at times I seem to have
no power of being bright and cheerful.”
In addition to the regular work of the school, and all the claims of
outside work and of pupils and friends, there was a large amount of wear
and tear inevitable in any undertaking on so vast a scale. There was
also much that was painful connected with the success of the public
movement, so far as it affected small private schools or the work of
ordinary governesses, who all seemed to urge some moral claim to
compensation. It was impossible for the kind heart not to suffer even
when the clear head denied the validity of the cause of the suffering,
as in this letter in reference to one such case:—
“I wonder dear A. does not remember that when a man makes a new
invention, and thereby ruins many individuals, he is not
expected to compensate them.
“They suffer in the interests of the greater number, and, if
wise, direct their efforts towards working the new invention or
improving on it. This may seem cruel, but it is not so in the
end. There is no reason, human or divine, why A. B. C., etc.,
should put aside a direct benefit to themselves and others in
order to prevent Z. from turning his attention to some other
field of work than that he already occupies. It is certain that
three hundred girls in one school want as much teaching as
thirty girls in ten schools—only they want different teaching.
“Moral—the big school displaces labour, but does not crush it.”
In the mere fact of success itself there was trial enough in many ways.
The intensity of her feeling might be sometimes out of due proportion to
the cause of suffering, but none the less did she suffer acutely. At the
time of greatest triumph—the opening of the new schools in 1879—there
chanced to be one example which gave rise to an outbreak of indignation
on her part, letting us see how much had hitherto been hidden even from
her friends. Of this incident she writes—
“It is of no use to try to please people! I do not mean to try.
I will do what seems to me right, and then learn to be content
to be abused, if _I can!_ What with every one’s ‘claims,’ and
with people’s ‘rights’ to a seat, always the best!—friends,
family, parents, old pupils, etc., it is all the same! Every one
is dissatisfied, do what one will; some one else is preferred,
some one is neglected.... And so the stings go on, till I nearly
break down under the wounds they inflict. When barely able to
get about again through the work, I hear of my neglect, etc., of
one to whom, in my heart of hearts, it never occurred to me as
possible that any one could accuse me of ingratitude.
“Pray forgive me, dear Annie, but you can never know the bitter
price one pays for success. I think it as heavy as that of
failure! This has stirred up a depth of scorn and anger of which
I feel ashamed, though I feel almost ashamed, too, of the race
of beings to which I belong.
“I do not know whether it will do any good to have it out, so to
speak, with you. I fear perhaps it will worry you. But as I have
written it, it shall go, and I hope you and I shall meet next
Saturday, when the keenness of the stroke has passed. I do not,
however, think that just now I can write to our friends. I
should not wish to pain them, so silence will be my best refuge.
Do not please say anything. I will fight my fight out with
myself alone.
“God’s law of compensation comes in; He will neither suffer one
to be unduly elated nor depressed.
“It is part of our discipline in life that we should constantly
fail, and I earnestly hope that I may be permitted to try and
try again.
“But the old days have gone, and it would be better as well as
easier for me for no visitors to be allowed to enter except the
few on the platform and the mothers of girls taking prizes _high
in the school_.
“Trying to please every one, and to recognize his or her rights,
is not of the least use. Like the miller in the fable, one only
succeeds in pleasing no one.
“There is so much to be grateful and thankful for that I am
really ashamed of myself for feeling vexed. I have not told you
half the vexations to which people subject me, certainly not
because I ignore them, but because by trying to please it seems
impossible to succeed.”
Earlier in this “year of triumph” there is a pathetic little note to her
sister, showing how much stronger was the “domestic” than the public
woman in her—
“February 18, 1879.
“DEAREST LITTLE MOTHER,
“Don’t be unhappy, but you did not think how much I miss
your loving little hug and petting.
“No one pets me but you, and occasionally Mrs. Bryant. Darling
boy allows me graciously to pet him, but he does not make
advances to me.
“I want you sometimes, if only to look at!
“Where are we to go at Easter? I was thinking of Hastings. Let
me know.
“Your very loving old
“ARNIE.”
It is not necessary to say that no change really took place in Miss
Buss’ endeavours to respond to even the most unreasonable of demands.
When she met me at Ben Rhydding soon afterwards, she was just as sweet
and bright as ever, and her nerves rapidly recovered tone again. This
power of recuperation after even the severest strain was always
remarkable, even to the very last. We had a striking proof of it in the
spring of 1893, when Miss Buss joined my sister and me at Bordighera. We
had tried to get her to take the complete rest of a whole winter abroad
after her illness in the autumn before, holding out the attractions of
Florence, Siena, and the Italian lakes. Every one wanted her to give up
work for a time, and take the chance of real recovery. Our efforts were
all wasted, and all she would do was to come, with her cousin, Miss Mary
Buss, and a friend, late in the spring, stopping at various points in
the Riviera on the way. She was far from well on her arrival, but a
drive to San Remo in an open carriage on a windy day gave her a chill,
followed by the inevitable attack of influenza. There was also a passing
giddiness which gave us anxiety. She was certainly very ill for five
days, with a threatening of pneumonia. But, thanks to her power of
sleeping day and night, the attack passed off as rapidly as it had come
on, when nothing we could say could persuade her that there had been
ground for alarm; an opinion she maintained in the face of the most
authoritative medical support of our view. On the Sunday she had
certainly been very ill, but on Tuesday she would have been downstairs
if we had not made too strong a protest. On Thursday, however, she
insisted on starting for England, and accomplished the journey to London
without a break, and apparently with no ill consequences.
She had already suffered from frequent attacks of influenza of a more or
less serious character, leaving behind them more and more weakness. The
first attack dated from the winter of 1889–90, when we were all in Rome
together. I had suffered from what seemed a sudden sharp cold, but was
nearly well when Miss Buss and her party arrived in Rome on Christmas
Eve. Christmas Day was very wet, and as my room was large and airy all
assembled there for afternoon tea and talk, Miss Buss being full of fun
and interest. But after a few days she and several others developed the
same kind of cold, which, even then, we never identified with the
mysterious disease of which every one heard so much that year. But for
us both it proved the beginning of a series of attacks extending through
the next four years. More than once when she was at the worst, I was too
ill even to be told of it till the danger had passed. This was the case
in the autumn of 1893, and I had been suffering during the summer, and
able to see her only when she came to visit me.
It was during this summer that she finally moved from Myra Lodge to No.
87, next door, leaving the boarders with Miss Edwards. The door of
communication was still left, that Miss Buss might see her friends and
the girls when she felt able. She had her own companion, Miss Newman,
and, later, Miss Millner; but Miss Edwards, having been so many years
with her, still went often to see her. There seemed every prospect of
years of rest and ease, amid a circle which could profit by her
experience and wisdom.
There were all the inevitable delays, in getting into the new house,
even though the workmen worked with all their hearts for an employer who
took very special care of their creature comforts, and made them wish
“for more like her.” She was not accustomed to summer in London, and the
consequence of it all was the very serious attack, already mentioned, in
the autumn. She recovered, however, with something of the rapidity of
the experience in the spring, and was able to go to Bournemouth, and
afterwards to spend Christmas at her cottage at Epping.
When my sister and I returned from Italy, in May, 1894, we were very
much grieved to see the change in our friend. She looked many years
older, and was quite unfit for any sort of exertion. It was surprising
how easily she accepted the changed conditions, and, after her life of
so much activity, was quite content to be amused, finding special
pleasure in Miss Millner’s lovely little Persian kitten. It was very
touching to see her intense amusement in her subjection to her new
medical attendant, Dr. Cobbett, the successor to her old friend Dr.
Evershed. She even seemed to find a lively satisfaction in the discovery
of a will which could dominate her own.
There was one bright spot in this summer, in a visit to “The Haven,”
near Hythe, the pleasant home of her friend Mrs. Pierson, from which she
returned so well that she went to the Norfolk coast with Miss Millner
and Mr. and Mrs. W. K. Hill. But the weather was cold, and Mr. and Mrs.
Septimus Buss, who joined her at Overstrand, were thankful to get her
safely home again.
The change in our dear friend, with the manifest certainty that she must
soon retire from her work, had made me look out her old letters, and
begin to arrange the material she had prepared for the long-talked-of
story of the school, which I wished to have ready when the day of
retirement should come. On my last visit to her, early in November, she
was so much stronger that she talked in quite the old way, telling me
that she intended to amuse herself by dictating her reminiscences to a
shorthand writer. I then told her what I had been doing, and she became
quite eager that we should do it together. On November 12th I had a note
fixing the next day for the first of these meetings. I was unfortunately
prevented from going, thus losing that last precious evening of her
active life—a lasting regret.
Early the next day the fatal illness began with an attack of
unconsciousness. In a letter from the Rev. Alfred J. Buss, he says—
“Though my sister had been in ill health for a long time, she
had rallied so often that much hope still remained. She had been
at the school several times during last term, and attended a
meeting of ‘old pupils.’ This last may have been too much for
her. She had an attack from which she was unable to rally. There
had been a consultation a few days before, and the medical men
saw no reason why she should not then be better—and allowed me
to inform the governors so—though she would still be liable to
relapses. So that the end came unexpectedly.”
She had recovered from several similar attacks, and had latterly seemed
so much stronger that there had been every reason for hope during the
periods of consciousness that came from time to time, although a new
symptom had appeared in the extreme restlessness that alternated with
the lethargy.
For six weeks hope came and went, everything being done that love could
devise or devotion carry out. In addition to the two constant
companions, there were two trained nurses: and the dear patient, in the
quiet intervals, was her sweetest self; so careful about giving trouble,
and so courteous in her acknowledgment of service rendered, so grieved
that the nurses should be kept up at night, and so anxious that Miss
Millner and Miss Edwards should know how much she felt their kind
attention.
Miss Edwards gives some interesting details of these last months after
the return home from this last holiday, when, after a few weeks of care
and nursing, she had seemed better than at any time during the year:—
“Three weeks of peaceful, quiet enjoyment followed this illness,
during which Miss Buss received many of her friends at her own
house, and was further made happy by a visit from her old and
intimate friend, Mrs. Hodgson, who has since written: ‘I am very
thankful that I had such a sweet, happy time with my friend
before the last illness came, and when she could in a measure
enjoy life.’
“During this period of improved health Miss Buss paid her last
three visits to the school she loved so dearly, visits that will
not soon be forgotten by those who then saw her. On October 31st
she was present in the evening at the ‘old pupils’’ meeting, and
on November 2nd, during part of the school concert, and, with
her usual sympathetic thought of others, sent on each occasion
for several of the music teachers and others of the staff to sit
by her in turn and exchange a few words.
“The last occasion on which our dear head-mistress was at
Sandall Road was on November 7th, when she distributed the
holiday prizes, making kindly inquiries, as each girl whom she
knew came before her, for parents and brothers and sisters at
home, and taking special notice of the little ones, for whom she
had brought a large packet of sweets.
“Before this illness came on she had with her own hands arranged
all her Christmas gifts and ordered her Christmas cards,
received by many of her friends on that sad Christmas Day. There
were also some packets addressed by herself of mementoes to
friends, all the more precious for this evidence of thoughtful
foresight.
“On Saturday, November 10th, friends came to lunch, and Miss
Buss was well enough to enjoy their society, and show particular
interest in the children, finding games and other amusement for
them.
“On this day also she had a visit from an old pupil—and
colleague—who brought her little baby-girl, asking permission to
call her _Frances Mary_, a request which greatly touched Miss
Buss. Constantly during her illness she spoke of her ‘little
namesake baby,’ who once, at the dear invalid’s special wish,
was brought to see her.
“On November 11th Miss Buss attended the short morning service
at the church of St. Mary the Virgin, almost next door to Myra
Lodge.
“On Monday evening she was able to be with the girls at No. 89,
enjoying, as she always did, to see them happy in playing games.
“The next day two old pupils took tea with her, and for the
Wednesday a luncheon-party of some of the clergy and workers of
Holy Trinity had been arranged. But this, by the doctor’s
orders, had to be postponed.”
On the Thursday before the end there was a return of consciousness for
some hours, with full recognition of her nephew, the Rev. Charles Caron
Buss, the “Charlie boy” of olden days, whom she now questioned tenderly
about his little curly-headed Kenneth, her latest delight. She also
recognized and talked with Mrs. Alfred Buss. Then came her “own boy,”
the Rev. Francis F. Buss, and she was able to follow the Service for the
Visitation of the Sick, and to join once more in the _Veni Creator_, and
then, for the last time, in the words of the Collect, so often on her
lips, to seek from the “Fountain of all Wisdom those things which for
our unworthiness we dare not, and for our blindness we cannot, ask”—a
prayer so meet for one who had walked from earliest days so humbly with
her God—a prayer so soon to be answered by the revelation of “the things
prepared for them that love.”
With this last self-surrender she let go her hold on earth, sinking
again into a state of coma that grew deeper and deeper till it merged
into the sleep of death. It lasted for three whole days longer, during
which her family and a few intimate friends were unremitting in their
visits, though there was nothing to be done but take a sad look at the
dear face, and go away with the terrible sense of change, as they
thought of that still form, those closed eyes, those unanswering lips
from which came now only that slow laboured breathing, and remembered
their friend as they had always known her before, so alert, so alive to
every touch, so quick of response to the faintest appeal. The only break
in this long stillness came in the hymns which from time to time were
sung softly by the watchers at the bedside, in the hope that those
familiar sounds might penetrate, beneath the silence.
All Sunday night the family remained in expectation—almost in hope—of
the release which seemed so near, waiting as they that watch for the
morning. Christmas Eve dawned, and, as the day advanced to high noon,
the heavy breathing grew more and more quiet, till at length came
perfect peace, and the watchers knew that their beloved had passed from
death to life.
“For fifty years with dauntless heart
Step after step she won her way,
Through times of cloud, and barren praise,
Up to the well-earned golden days
Of proud success, and prouder fame;
Where no high thought of self had part,
No poor ambition of display,
To dim the lustre of her name.
“So, far and wide, o’er mead and lea,
Was sown the seed; and many a waste
Broke into blossom; fields grew white
To harvest that she lived to see,
Though not the fuller fruit to taste
(Which ages yet to come shall reap)
Ere fell the shadow of the night,
And, dauntless still, she sank to sleep.
“To busy hands and weary brain
Thus comes at last the dawn of peace,
Rest after noble toil, in light
Beyond the shadows, infinite;
Yea, life in Him who once again
By death for ever lives: release
From bonds to freedom. None may tell
Her bliss, but surely ‘SHE SLEEPS WELL.’”
(Rev. B. G. JOHNS.)
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER VI.
“AND HER WORKS DO FOLLOW HER.”
“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, the 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 all 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 with 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
behoves 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 of 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.)
Mrs. 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 to 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
down 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, subdued as they were, owing to the great
length of the procession, had—if one may so express it—a
wonderfully spiritual effect. The churchyard was quite filled
with the mourners, and after the actual service was finished,
Canon Barker delivered a short address to those assembled round
the open grave on the life-work and lessons taught by Miss Buss,
whose name, he said, would be connected with the commencement of
the higher education of women for many years to come. He dwelt
on the zeal and ability displayed by the deceased in founding
the great school in Camden Town, and the most important
educational testimony she had given before the Schools
Commission. Miss Buss also established the Head-mistresses’
Association and the Teachers’ Guild, and her schools were the
models of those of the Girls’ Public Day School Company. The
effect and success of her work was seen at Girton and Newnham
Colleges, and at the London University, and he mentioned the
fact that at one time at least two-thirds of the girls at Girton
were from Miss Buss’ own school. The chief point in regard to
her character was her remarkable personality and indomitable
strength. Her simplicity and singleness of heart were without a
taint of personal ambition. He dilated on her great power of
assimilating new ideas, and said the influence of her will was
extraordinary. Her name would live for years, and the women not
only of this country, but of every other, owed her a debt of
gratitude for the noble work she had accomplished. He touched
upon her deep religious character, manifested so clearly in her
quiet advice and consolation to the girls who came to her in any
worry or trouble, and finally he said it was a blessing to any
one to be able to see, as Miss Buss had done, her life’s work
crowned with success before she departed.
“In compliance with the expressed wish of the family,
comparatively few wreaths were sent, but these were quite as
many as could well be dealt with. In addition to those from
members of the family, the teachers of the North London
Collegiate School sent a wreath of laurel, the Camden School
teachers a wreath, Miss Ridley (a Governor of the school from
its early days) and Miss J. T. Ridley a wreath, Myra Lodge an
anchor of violets, while the pupils festooned and decorated the
hearse. Most of those present carried flowers, which they threw
into the ivy-lined grave.
“For the greater part of the service large flakes of snow had
been slowly falling. The day will ever remain in our hearts.
Though one of deep sadness, yet there was withal a feeling of
gratitude that we, too, had known her, and of pride that we were
Miss Buss’ girls.
“ELEANOR M. HILL.”
It is impossible to do more than merely indicate the feeling caused by
the death of Frances Mary Buss, as evidenced in the piles of letters
addressed to her family, and to Mrs. Bryant and members of the staff, by
leaders in the educational world, as well as by pupils, past and
present, and by friends from every part of the globe. The extracts
already given will serve to represent this deep and widespread sense of
loss, and to show in how many hearts her memory will live on.
Of outward and visible memorials there are several still in progress.
One only is as yet completed, a window given by relatives and friends to
Holy Trinity Church, where, on October 3, a special dedicatory service
was held. The subject is St. Scholastica, the devoted sister of St.
Benedict who founded Monte Cassino, the first monastery of the Western
Church. St. Scholastica is said to have helped largely in the revival of
religion and learning that marked the sixth century. She became the Head
of the first community of nuns, and it is in this character that she is
represented in the upper part of the window. In the lower part she is
seated, with one of her young novices at her knee, in keeping with her
name, and with the work of the great teacher thus commemorated, whose
likeness is plainly recognizable in the features of the saint. Above the
head of the upper figure runs a scroll with the words, “I know thy
works, and charity, and service, and faith” (Rev. ii. 19). The
inscription below is, “In loving memory of Frances Mary Buss, for
forty-five years a communicant of this Church.”
The memorial window in the Clothworkers’ Hall, Sandall Road, which is to
be the gift of the Company, is still in progress. The design represents
four typical women from sacred history, all peculiarly appropriate—
I. Deborah, “a mother in Israel” (Judg. v. 7).
II. Huldah, “the prophetess,” with whom “many communed” (2 Kings
xxii. 14).
III. Mary, who “chose the better part” (Luke x. 42).
IV. Phœbe, “a servant of the Church, and a succourer of many”
(Rom. xvi. 1).
A portrait is introduced into the design.
In the Camden School there is to be a marble bust, the gift of the same
generous donors, who have already done so much to beautify the schools.
But the memorial which would most have pleased her whose name it will
bear is in the Travelling Scholarships, to which the public
subscriptions are to be devoted. In keeping with the large-heartedness
which knew no bounds, the benefit of these Scholarships will not be
confined to the two schools of which she was the founder. It is hoped
that many a worn and jaded teacher may thus derive from foreign travel
the rest and refreshment which so often sent Miss Buss herself back to
work with renewed vigour; and it can scarcely be doubted that in extent
these Scholarships will prove worthy of one who so largely gave to
others.
The account given by Miss Burstall of the re-opening of the school after
the great change that had come upon it is full of interest—
“The opening of school on the first day of term was a strange,
but inspiring and impressive, ceremony, which none of those
present are likely to forget. The dark ranks of the girls, as
they stood for prayers, the black dresses of the teachers, the
laurel wreath hung above our dear Founder’s portrait, the empty
great chair, which would never be filled again by her we had
seen there so often—all told the story which the funeral
hymns[21] sung before and after prayers reiterated. When the
short, very short, service was concluded, the Rev. A. J. Buss
came forward, and first, on behalf of the family, thanked the
staff for their work (a very labour of love indeed) in
organizing the funeral arrangements, and the girls for their
singing on the sad occasion. He then, as Clerk to the Governors,
went on to say that the Governors had been unable, owing to the
shortness of the time that had elapsed, to make any final
arrangement, but that they had asked Mrs. Bryant to take the
post of _acting_ Head-mistress during the term.
“Mrs. Bryant, after saying a few words in response to Mr. Buss,
gave a short address, expressing (as she said) the thoughts and
memories that rose to the surface in trying to realize the
greatness of the leader who had passed from among us. Sympathy,
absolute devotion of self, extraordinary energy of will,
marvellous charity—these one thought of as they had been shown
year after year in counsel, in delight in other’s pleasures, in
carrying ideas into action, in patience and help to inferior
workers, in honour and appreciation to talent, in raising the
weak, in strengthening the strong.
“The thrill of emotion, of loyalty, of sorrow, and of hope,
which passed through the hearts of so many of us as she spoke,
is too personal, too sacred for expression. It was a relief when
music, that divine art which begins where words end, came to
speak regret and aspiration, as the solemn chords of the Dead
March in ‘Saul’ flowed from the organ. Just at this moment, a
little after 9.30 a.m., a winter thunderstorm rolled up. The
light grew fainter, the wind sounded round the building; still
the music pealed on as the darkness gathered, rising stronger
and fuller in its confidence of triumph over death, when, just
at the climax of the melody, a flash of lightning blazed for an
instant like an answering fire from the heavenly world. It was a
strange coincidence, but it was not the first time that Nature
had seemed to sympathize with our grief and with our
consolation. The flowers and the winter sunshine of New Year’s
Eve, the softly-falling benediction of the snow in the
churchyard at Theydon—these had their meaning. So, too, had the
symbol of power, of energy, of light in darkness, when the New
Year began with its new work and its new, yet old, inspiration.”
Footnote 21:
“The saints of God, their conflict passed,” and “Peace, perfect
peace.”
The music ceased, and all stood for a moment in silence, till, as Miss
Fawcett tells us—
“Mrs. Bryant said very quietly, ‘The classes will now pass to
their own rooms as usual!’ and, as we obeyed, the clouds cleared
away, and the place was soon flooded with brilliant sunshine.
‘Le roi est mort: vive le roi!’ was the thought in all minds.
But our new Head had taken her stand on the old order of things,
and there is sweetness in our sadness.”
Owing to some technicalities which could not be set aside, the post of
Head-mistress was still not filled officially either on the Foundation
Day or Prize Day, June 27, 1895, and these may therefore be counted as
the last days of the old _régime_, the beloved Founder still holding
supreme rule, through the self-effacing loyalty with which her successor
did honour to the cherished memory.[22]
Footnote 22:
In a paper found in Miss Buss’ desk there is gratifying proof of the
satisfaction it would have given her to know of the choice of her
successor—
“I know Mrs. Bryant well, and think her the most competent woman in
the whole range of my acquaintance to take up my work after me. She is
bright, accomplished, energetic, and earnest. She is amiable and
loving, and, above all, has _vital force_. She has, indeed, ‘a healthy
mind in a healthy body.’ Pages of writing could not express more
strongly my conviction that she is the one woman who would and could
carry on the school in the same spirit as it is carried on now. Her
fellow-workers would also be loyal to her, and she would be
considerate about them.
(Signed) “FRANCES MARY BUSS.
“Myra Lodge, Feb. 3, 1878.”
On Foundation Day (April 4)—henceforth to be known as Founder’s Day—the
sense of loss was manifest in the black dresses of the staff, and in the
absence of the usual daffodils with which the Hall had been gay in past
times. The needlework was shown as usual, but in place of the
entertainment of other years, there was an organ recital, followed by a
selection of sacred music, ending with the hymn, so deeply impressive to
all there, “The saints of God, their conflict passed.”
On the Prize Day (June 27) there was a special appropriateness in the
fact that in Professor Jebb of Cambridge, who occupied the chair, there
should have been so distinguished a representative of the University
which had been so much to one who had laboured to open for others the
way thither which she could not herself follow.
In the presence of Lady Frederick Cavendish, who gave the prizes on this
last day, there was also a very special fitness, not only as a very
active member of the Council of the Girls’ Public Day Schools Company—a
work made possible in the beginning by Miss Buss’ success in her
schools—but still more as the daughter of Lord Lyttelton, one of the
earliest friends to the higher education of girls in general, and, in
particular, to the North London Collegiate and Camden Schools for girls.
The day was further marked as the close of the first great period of the
School’s history by the absence, not only of the Head herself, but of
two of her foremost helpers—the Bishop of Winchester and Mr. Elliott—the
one suffering from the illness so soon to prove fatal, and the other
from sudden bereavement. So far back as 1879 Miss Buss, in regretting
the absence on the opening of the new Hall of the Rev. Charles Lee, had
thus written of these three friends—
“For years past Mr. Lee was the one person who was guide,
philosopher, and friend; who gave up his time, and who, with Mr.
Elliott and Mr. Thorold, met constantly in Camden Street, looked
after Myra Lodge as well as 202, worked up the law questions
(Mr. Elliott has always _given_ his law knowledge to me and to
the movement from the beginning), and in fact worked hard when
friends were few and success was apparently hopeless.”
Mr. Lee’s removal from London deprived Miss Buss of his valuable help,
but for fifteen years longer Dr. Thorold and Mr. Elliott were by her
side in any time of need, and their kind and genial speeches had come to
be an essential part of Prize Day rejoicing.
And so the old order changes once again. But, no longer looking sadly
backward, we may turn hopefully to the future, as past and present are
united in the heartfelt tribute to the Founder with which her successor
takes up the work of the school.
“Last year I stood behind her in this place and read the Prize
Day report, which was _her_ report, for her. To-day I am proud
to be her deputy once again and glad, for this day at least, of
the circumstances which have determined that as yet no one
speaks in her place as more than a deputy.
“The thought of our School’s past—the pride in it, the regret
for it as past—must be specially with us all to-day. For the
first time in forty-five years we meet together for our yearly
distribution of prizes without the gracious presence of the
Founder, a presence so familiar, that cannot be replaced. A
great teacher, a wise administrator, a strong and sympathetic
leader, she held a place almost as unique in the educational
world as the history of the schools she founded. Nevertheless,
the loss to us in this school is deepest, widest, most intimate.
To those who have been her colleagues, the sense of it is ever
present, in all the details of work, and affecting all the
relations of friendship.
“Noble work like hers remains in effect for all time, and great
inspirations are immortal, passing on from mind to mind. The
neighbourhood knows, and will long know, our building as ‘Miss
Buss’ School,’ and our traditions have already lived too long to
lose the stamp of the character that moulded them. To guard them
with care, to act on them with zeal, will be the pleasure and
duty of every North London girl.
“It is, I believe, hardly necessary, but I would like, before
concluding, to remind the pupils of the thanks that are due to
the teachers for their never-failing interest and devotion to
work which, though always cheering, is sometimes hard. For
myself, I could not adequately express, but I hope they know
without words how much I have appreciated their loyal support
and their unity of spirit as they have worked together with me
during these last six months. The dark cloud through which we
have passed has caused us all as colleagues to draw closer
together, like children in a family when the head has gone
forth.”
We find the same spirit in the account given in the _School Magazine_ of
Mrs. Bryant’s election, on July 9, as Miss Burstall concludes—
“It was a quiet day, and a very simple ceremony. There was
something of the sweetness and ease of home in it all, and
indeed we felt as if we were a family rather than a school; and,
as in the beautiful and sacred life of home we do not speak of
our loyalty and devotion, but act on them as principles so
certain as to need no expression, so it was here. The day was a
very happy one. Every one went about her work with a new impulse
of earnestness, a new assurance of peaceful continuity. For the
rest, the future will speak, and the past is witness that the
future will be good.”
On Prize Day, that last day of the old which was the first day of the
new era, Lady Frederick Cavendish in her address dwelt especially on the
faith and sympathy of the Founder as the secret of the success of her
schools, finding here, as everywhere, the true source of all great and
lasting work in the faith that uplifts and the love that unites.
Then from the bright past the speaker looked beyond the darkly shadowed
present to a future full of hope in the work to come. None present on
that day will forget the inspiration of the closing words of this
address—words doubly strong as quoted by one who had come through a
great darkness into the light: one who will always stand out as witness
that a heart emptied of joy may yet become a full channel of blessing—
“What though the brightness dim, the glory fade,
The splendour vanish?—Not of these is made
The holy trust that to your charge is given,
Children of God, inheritors of heaven!
• • • • • •
A sacred burden is the life ye bear,
Look on it, lift it, bear it solemnly,
Stand up, and walk beneath it steadfastly,
Fall not for sorrow, falter not for sin,
But upward, onward, till the goal ye win.
God guide you, and God guard you all the way;
Children of light, set forth, set forth to-day!”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
INDEX.
(EDUCATIONAL).
A
Abbott, Dr. E. A., 33, 134, 277
Ablett, Dr., 226
Assistant-Mistresses’ Association, 245
B
Beale, Miss, 6, 18, 51, 182, 232, 340, 385
Bodichon, Madame, 18, 281
Bostock, Miss, 5, 50, 253
Brewers’ Company, 104, 147, 150, 156, 164, 384
Browne, Canon, 259, 385
Bryant, Dr. Sophie, 3, 169, 175, 215, 270, 385, 390, 394
Burbury, Mrs., 19, 91, 134, 253, 290, 384
Buss, Mr. R. W., 32, 39, 54, 57, 74
——, Mrs., 30, 40, 74, 276
——, Rev. A. J., 43, 47, 91, 317, 325, 353, 390
——, Rev. S., 43, 91, 150, 265, 286, 320
C
Cambridge Local Examinations, 5, 15, 19, 256, 258
—— parties, 345
Cavendish, Lady F., 292, 294
Character, 218
Cheltenham, 341
Chessar, Miss, 276, 277
Children, love of, 347
Chreimann, Miss, 226
Clothworkers’ Company, 104, 150, 154, 384, 389
Clough, Miss, 18, 28, 131, 245, 262, 276, 286, 386
Cobbe, Miss, 12, 32, 53, 117, 121, 127, 184, 193
Cock, Miss, M.D., 220
College, Queen’s, 5, 14, 47, 51
——, Bedford, 14, 50
——, Cambridge Training, 281
——, Cheltenham, 14, 51, 341
——, Girton, 13, 164, 174, 253, 261
——, Holloway, 262
——, Maria Grey Training, 280
——, Newnham, 262
D
Danson, Mr. W., 91, 125, 240
Davies, Miss, 10, 27, 50, 101, 105, 232, 269, 282, 300, 385
Degrees for women, 265
Doreck, Miss, 273, 275
E
Education for girls, 13, 128
——, Medical, for women, 299
Education, Letter on, 199
—— in Sweden, 110, 323
—— Union, 117, 122, 124
Educational ideals, 205
Elliott, Mr. W. T., 91, 104, 240, 393
Ewart, Miss, 18, 91, 125, 134, 141, 281, 294
F
Family affection, 75
Farmer, Dr., 225
Fearon, Mr. D. B., 3, 255
Fitch, Dr. J. G., 3, 9, 152, 164, 252, 266, 268, 280, 354, 385
G
Garrett, Miss, 19, 101, 300
Generosity, 95, 249
“Girl-graduates,” 14, 169
Girton, 13, 164, 174, 253, 261
Governesses’ Benevolent Institution, 47, 289
Graphic power, 35
“Graphic Satire,” 32
Grey, Mrs. William, 18, 105, 117, 127, 131, 152, 164, 232, 274, 277,
364
Gurney, Miss, 19, 119, 123
H
Hadland, Miss, 243, 292
Hall, Mrs. S. C., 49, 107
Hero-worship, 61
Hodgson, Dr. W. B., 16, 89, 98, 173, 205, 274, 289, 294, 354, 365
“Home Rule,” 301
Hubbard, Miss, 18, 290
Hughes, Miss E. P., 285, 311
Humanity, 29
Humility, 250
Hygiene, 183
I
Influence, 59
J
Jebb, Prof., 392
Jewsbury, Miss, 108, 111, 127
_Journal, Women’s Education_, 121
K
Kindergarten, 71, 275
L
Laing, Rev. D., 5, 44, 74, 253
Latham, Mr., 5, 10, 147
Lee, Rev. C., 91, 392
Lyttelton, 2, 10, 102, 392
M
Manners, 194
Manning, Miss E. A., 18, 243, 275, 281, 302
Martin, Miss Frances, 18, 51
Maurice, Prof. F. D., 14, 49, 52
Memorials, 384
Menzies, Mrs., 264
Music, 205, 224
Myra Lodge, 92, 95, 179, 373
N
Naturalness, 189
Neate, Mr., 103
Needlework, 37, 169, 171, 269
Nicolay, Prof., 49, 51
Notes, 211
O
Order, 217
Overwork, 183
P
Payne, Mr. Joseph, 121, 202, 275
Peace Society, 303
Prince of Wales, 1, 125, 160
Princess of Wales, 115, 125, 151, 160
Prize-Day, 1, 160, 238, 393
Q
Quietness, 18
R
Reid, Mrs., 50
Responsiveness, 193
Reverence, 197
Robins, Mr. E. C., 90, 103, 153, 155, 163
Roby, Mr. H. J., 147, 149
Rogers, Rev. William, 105, 118, 145, 160
Royal Commission, First Schools Inquiry, 2
—— ——, Second Schools Inquiry, 178, 297
—— ——, Charity, 136
—— ——, Endowed Schools, 134, 135, 147
S
School, North London Ladies, 55, 58
——, —— Girls, 96, 109, 125, 157, 170, 213, 255
——, Camden, 96, 108, 132, 206, 209
——, Christ’s Hospital, 9
——, Cowper Street, 105, 128
——, Danish, 204, 207
——, Edinburgh, 137, 201
——, Endowed, 11, 134, 135
——, Girls’ Public Day, 123, 133
——, Maria Grey, 170
Scholarships, 80, 106
Scholarships, Travelling, 389
School-Mistresses’ Association, 243
Shirreff, Miss, 19, 261, 275, 277, 365
Soames, Miss, 19, 80, 281
Stanley of Alderley, Lady, 18, 253
Storr, Mr., 293, 350, 384
Storrar, Dr., 3, 10, 91, 134, 143
Sunday talks, 195
Swanwick, Miss, 16, 50
T
Teachers, High School, 173
——, women, 201, 203
Teachers’ Guild, 245, 291
—— Loan Society, 293
—— Provident Association, 290
Teaching, 35, 40, 91
Temperance, 304
Thorold, Dr., 2, 10, 91, 102
—— (Bishop of Rochester), 165
—— (Bishop of Winchester), 348, 392
Thrift, 289
Training Colleges, Home and Colonial, 170, 177, 276
—— ——, Cambridge, 281
—— ——, Cheltenham, 277
—— ——, Maria Grey, 277
Training for work, 71, 177
——, physical, 203, 222
Travel, love of, 313
U
Unconventionality, 79
W
Ward, Miss A. J., 291
Waste, 189
Woman’s question, 16, 99, 343
Wormell, Dr., 249, 385
PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
LONDON AND BECCLES.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
● Transcriber’s Notes:
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illegible. It is marked [** illegible].
○ Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected.
○ Typographical errors were silently corrected.
○ Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only
when a predominant form was found in this book.
○ Text that was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
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