FUNERAL OF MRS. G. J. HOLYOAKE.

Freethought Review, Volume I, Issue 8, 1 May 1884, Page 12

FUNERAL OF MRS. G. J. HOLYOAKE.

Mrs. Holyoake, of Sudbury, Harrow, whose death occurred at Brighton, was interred at Highgate Cenietry. Rev. Stopford A Brooke would have officiated at the chapel, —the views of the deceased being mostly in accord with those which characterise his ministry,—but he was prevented being present by an unavoidable engagement. As Mr. Holyoake had often spoken at the graves of others, his wife had a wish—the only public one she ever expressedthat a few words should be said at her own. That this might be, Mr. Holyoake himself spoke in the chapel, first reading a letter sent by Mr. Stopford Brooke, which, from its beautiful sympathy, was of the nature of a service. After that, he read from the second book of Esdras the remarkable dialogue between the Prophet and the Angel Uriel upon the knowledge and duties of this world, following the words by a short oration upon the three qualities which distinguished Mrs. Holyoake,that of service of others, in in which she never thought of herself; that of truth, not of speech only, but of conduct, of which she had so clear a sense that the absence of it in others was not concealable from her ; that of pride, which was more than self-respect,it was debtlessness, —an independence of obligation which was not a second nature, —it was her first; and she had no other. Though called upon early in life to confront alone the death of her first child, to be the sole watcher, the sole sympathiser, and sole mourner at an unattended grave, she brought away no murmur. During more than forty years, sheneverforgotit,and never complained. It was written of her: The martyr’s cross without the martyr’s cause, The grief, the wrong, without the self-applause ; A round of homely duties nobly done, — These were her life, who sleeps beneath this stone. The service in the chapel being ended, relatives, sons and daughters, and early friends proceeded to the grave, where Mr. 0. D. Collet sang the fine hymn of Harriet Martineau, beginning Beneath this starry arch Nought resteth or is still; But all things have their march ; As if by one great Will Moves one, move all, —hark to the footfall ! On, on, forever. London Daily News.