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.”

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