‘You must not expect men of Mr. Lowe’s mark to work on the C.L.C. Council; and you must not expect to see all go as you would wish at the meeting. You will find no member of Council but myself anxious to increase the powers of the Lady Principal, and probably they will not be much increased. And if you secure the majority of Council being non-local, which will be hard to secure, you will not secure their attendance at meetings held out of London.‘And to get a satisfactory List to propose to Shareholders will be hard, for the best-known men in England will not join; and those who will join will not command votes largely; and so I advise moderation. I did my best at this last Council meeting to prepare the way for a “bloodless revolution” or quiet transition ... and I have seen Mr. Verrall. He is very friendly to you and to the College, and is a man of very good judgment as well as energy, and you are safe in talking or writing to him. For myself I feel less and less inclined to advise strong measures; and I do not see my way to getting the College on as broad a basis as I think it should stand on.... I advise you to think well and long before you get into an inextricable difficulty; and I think you will find your best friend and best support in one who for fifteen years (or nearly) has given much time and thought to the College, Mr. Brancker.‘At the last Council meeting you showed great wisdom in accepting the adverse Resolution with equanimity.’
‘You must not expect men of Mr. Lowe’s mark to work on the C.L.C. Council; and you must not expect to see all go as you would wish at the meeting. You will find no member of Council but myself anxious to increase the powers of the Lady Principal, and probably they will not be much increased. And if you secure the majority of Council being non-local, which will be hard to secure, you will not secure their attendance at meetings held out of London.
‘And to get a satisfactory List to propose to Shareholders will be hard, for the best-known men in England will not join; and those who will join will not command votes largely; and so I advise moderation. I did my best at this last Council meeting to prepare the way for a “bloodless revolution” or quiet transition ... and I have seen Mr. Verrall. He is very friendly to you and to the College, and is a man of very good judgment as well as energy, and you are safe in talking or writing to him. For myself I feel less and less inclined to advise strong measures; and I do not see my way to getting the College on as broad a basis as I think it should stand on.... I advise you to think well and long before you get into an inextricable difficulty; and I think you will find your best friend and best support in one who for fifteen years (or nearly) has given much time and thought to the College, Mr. Brancker.
‘At the last Council meeting you showed great wisdom in accepting the adverse Resolution with equanimity.’
Differences of this kind pointed to a change of administration. As early as 1865, in her address at Bristol, Miss Beale had pointed out the difficulties besetting a school organised on the lines of Cheltenham:—
‘The machinery of proprietary colleges is somewhat complicated, and it is liable to get out of order. Thus, for example, if the shareholders agitate when a measure does not at once commend itself to their judgment, they may interfere with the efficiency, and endanger the existence of the institution. Secondly, none must attempt to carry out reforms in education, unless they have faith enough in their own system to work on quietly for a time, in the face of popular opposition, and unless they have a capital to fall back upon.’
‘The machinery of proprietary colleges is somewhat complicated, and it is liable to get out of order. Thus, for example, if the shareholders agitate when a measure does not at once commend itself to their judgment, they may interfere with the efficiency, and endanger the existence of the institution. Secondly, none must attempt to carry out reforms in education, unless they have faith enough in their own system to work on quietly for a time, in the face of popular opposition, and unless they have a capital to fall back upon.’
Union for the general good—a single purpose in Principal, Council, shareholders alike—this alone could prevent all serious and hindering differences of opinion among them. It was for this union Miss Beale was specially striving now. Her paper to the Council went on thus:—
‘ ... I should like this and other matters fixed, not in reference to my personal wishes, but according to what the most experienced persons think best. I shall see the Heads of all the principal Girls’ Schools probably when I am in London, and probably also an Endowed Schools’ Committee, and I shall learn from Mrs. William Grey what has been done at the Board of the Girls’ Day School Company; perhaps this may modify my views. Meanwhile I enclose a few suggestions I sent to Mr. Verrall.... I feel very strongly with you that if the College is at all to go on doing good work, it must not be governed by local members, and that it is a matter of the greatest importance that we should have upon our Board men of experience and judgment in educational matters. I would not keep more than two or three members of the present Council. It should be made a rule that no person who derives pecuniary profit, either directly or indirectly, should be a member of it. The point on which I feel most strongly just now is that the Principal must be able to select her fellow-workers, to appoint and dismiss.’
‘ ... I should like this and other matters fixed, not in reference to my personal wishes, but according to what the most experienced persons think best. I shall see the Heads of all the principal Girls’ Schools probably when I am in London, and probably also an Endowed Schools’ Committee, and I shall learn from Mrs. William Grey what has been done at the Board of the Girls’ Day School Company; perhaps this may modify my views. Meanwhile I enclose a few suggestions I sent to Mr. Verrall.... I feel very strongly with you that if the College is at all to go on doing good work, it must not be governed by local members, and that it is a matter of the greatest importance that we should have upon our Board men of experience and judgment in educational matters. I would not keep more than two or three members of the present Council. It should be made a rule that no person who derives pecuniary profit, either directly or indirectly, should be a member of it. The point on which I feel most strongly just now is that the Principal must be able to select her fellow-workers, to appoint and dismiss.’
There is also an interesting letter to Mr. Verrall on the subject of her authority:—
‘Of course, you are more likely than I am to know what is best in matters of government, still I think it may be well to express, as clearly as I can, what I feel in reference to the subject of my authority.‘It does not seem to me as if things would be likely to go on long without revolutions in an institution governed by two irresponsible powers. The authority of an irresponsible Principal must of course be checked insome way, if not by constitutional means, then by a Russian system. It may be that the Czarina has been trying to carry out some good reforms, but if her plans differ from those of the Councillors, there is an end of them. Our present Councillors are now afraid of being in their turn made an end of by a shareholders’ meeting, but if the constitution, as I understood it, were carried, the shareholders would be powerless, and the Council might, for mere personal dislike, get rid of a Principal who opposed what was wrong. Of course, it will not do for a Committee to interfere with the Principal’s choice of teachers, and there will be anarchy unless she has the power of dismissal; but virtually there will always be a power of appeal to the Committee inasmuch as theywould, if partisans of any official, dismiss the Principal to reinstate her.’
‘Of course, you are more likely than I am to know what is best in matters of government, still I think it may be well to express, as clearly as I can, what I feel in reference to the subject of my authority.
‘It does not seem to me as if things would be likely to go on long without revolutions in an institution governed by two irresponsible powers. The authority of an irresponsible Principal must of course be checked insome way, if not by constitutional means, then by a Russian system. It may be that the Czarina has been trying to carry out some good reforms, but if her plans differ from those of the Councillors, there is an end of them. Our present Councillors are now afraid of being in their turn made an end of by a shareholders’ meeting, but if the constitution, as I understood it, were carried, the shareholders would be powerless, and the Council might, for mere personal dislike, get rid of a Principal who opposed what was wrong. Of course, it will not do for a Committee to interfere with the Principal’s choice of teachers, and there will be anarchy unless she has the power of dismissal; but virtually there will always be a power of appeal to the Committee inasmuch as theywould, if partisans of any official, dismiss the Principal to reinstate her.’
Many members of the College Council desired change and enlargement. One wrote: ‘I cannot think it right to leave Miss Beale or any other Lady Principal to the mercies of a purely local Council ... for I think with such a Council no good Lady Principal could long agree.’
Among those whom Miss Beale consulted at this crisis, and from whom she received sympathy, were Dr. Jex-Blake, then head-master of Rugby, and Sir Joshua Fitch, who later on became a member of the Council.
The desired reform was brought about in 1875, when at a general meeting in March the relative powers of the proprietors, Council, and Principal were more clearlydefined and the number of the governing body increased. The Council then elected consisted of the following:—
Life MembersThe Right Hon. Earl Granville, K.G., D.C.L., F.R.S., Chancellor of the University of London.The Right Hon. Lord Lyttelton.The Right Hon. Sir Edward Ryan, M.A., F.R.S.J. Storrar, Esq., M.D., Chairman of Convocation of the University of London.The Rev. H. Walford Bellairs, Rector of Nuneaton.The Rev. Canon Barry, Principal of King’s College, London.Miss Buss, Principal of the North London Collegiate School for Girls.W. Dunn, Esq., Cheltenham.H. Verrall, Esq., Brighton.T. Marriott, Esq., Victoria Street, Westminster.S. S. Johnson, Esq., Nottingham.Ordinary MembersThe Rev. Herbert Kynaston, Principal of the Cheltenham College.The Rev. W. Wilberforce Gedge, Malvern Wells.The Rev. Dr. Morton Brown, Cheltenham.E. T. Wilson, Esq., M.B. (Oxon.), Cheltenham.General M’Causland, Cheltenham.F. D. Longe, Esq., Cheltenham.John Middleton, Esq., Cheltenham.T. Morley Rooke, Esq., M.D. (London), Cheltenham.Miss Mary Gurney, London.Miss Lucy March Phillipps, Cheltenham.Mrs. James Owen, Cheltenham.Miss Catherine Winkworth, Clifton.
Life Members
The Right Hon. Earl Granville, K.G., D.C.L., F.R.S., Chancellor of the University of London.
The Right Hon. Lord Lyttelton.
The Right Hon. Sir Edward Ryan, M.A., F.R.S.
J. Storrar, Esq., M.D., Chairman of Convocation of the University of London.
The Rev. H. Walford Bellairs, Rector of Nuneaton.
The Rev. Canon Barry, Principal of King’s College, London.
Miss Buss, Principal of the North London Collegiate School for Girls.
W. Dunn, Esq., Cheltenham.
H. Verrall, Esq., Brighton.
T. Marriott, Esq., Victoria Street, Westminster.
S. S. Johnson, Esq., Nottingham.
Ordinary Members
The Rev. Herbert Kynaston, Principal of the Cheltenham College.
The Rev. W. Wilberforce Gedge, Malvern Wells.
The Rev. Dr. Morton Brown, Cheltenham.
E. T. Wilson, Esq., M.B. (Oxon.), Cheltenham.
General M’Causland, Cheltenham.
F. D. Longe, Esq., Cheltenham.
John Middleton, Esq., Cheltenham.
T. Morley Rooke, Esq., M.D. (London), Cheltenham.
Miss Mary Gurney, London.
Miss Lucy March Phillipps, Cheltenham.
Mrs. James Owen, Cheltenham.
Miss Catherine Winkworth, Clifton.
Much was gained by this remodelling, but the period of uneasy development was not yet over. One annual meeting which discussed the constitution of the College appears in private notes made by the Principal for herHistoryas ‘Bear Garden.’ Reorganisation was seen to be essential. The College, founded in 1853 as a voluntaryassociation, had by 1880 grown far beyond the calculations of its founders. Besides the school buildings and the Lady Principal’s house, it possessed Fauconberg House and the sanatorium at Leckhampton. To give it a safe legal foundation it was therefore registered ‘with limited liability’ under the Companies’ Acts of 1862 and 1867, without the addition of the word ‘limited’ to its name. New regulations concerning the holding of shares and property—the appointment of officers—were also made.
‘The Shareholders formally renounced all interest on their shares, and on January 31, 1880, the College was duly incorporated. On May 1 of the same year, the Lady Principal and other officials were formally re-elected.‘The new Constitution provided for a Governing Body of twenty-four Members, of whom eighteen, namely twelve men and six women, were to be Members elected by the Shareholders, and the remaining six Representative Members, each holding office for six years. The six Representative Members were to be appointed by: (1) The Bishop of Gloucester and Bristol; (2) The Hebdomadal Council of the University of Oxford; (3) The Council of the Senate of the University of Cambridge; (4) The Senate of the University of London; (5) The Lady Principal; and (6) The Teachers.
‘The Shareholders formally renounced all interest on their shares, and on January 31, 1880, the College was duly incorporated. On May 1 of the same year, the Lady Principal and other officials were formally re-elected.
‘The new Constitution provided for a Governing Body of twenty-four Members, of whom eighteen, namely twelve men and six women, were to be Members elected by the Shareholders, and the remaining six Representative Members, each holding office for six years. The six Representative Members were to be appointed by: (1) The Bishop of Gloucester and Bristol; (2) The Hebdomadal Council of the University of Oxford; (3) The Council of the Senate of the University of Cambridge; (4) The Senate of the University of London; (5) The Lady Principal; and (6) The Teachers.
Miss Beale did not often speak of the difficulties which necessarily she had to meet, as one called upon to direct the development of a great institution. But she had counsel and sympathy for those who were similarly placed. Miss Buss wrote thus to Miss Ridley of help she obtained from her:—
‘I had a long and grave talk to Miss Beale, 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 Councilmeetings. 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 beimpersonal, so to speak; to remember that these and similar difficulties would always occur where there are several people. She said thatwomenwere always accused of beingtoo personal, and harm was done by giving a handle to such an assertion.’[46]
‘I had a long and grave talk to Miss Beale, 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 Councilmeetings. 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 beimpersonal, so to speak; to remember that these and similar difficulties would always occur where there are several people. She said thatwomenwere always accused of beingtoo personal, and harm was done by giving a handle to such an assertion.’[46]
The first efforts of the new Council to grapple with their task revealed that one source of difficulty lay in the government of the boarding-houses. The early founders had foreseen this when, in their first prospectus, they announced that they would not be responsible for any houses. Experience, however, soon showed that by this policy, grave dangers were at the same time incurred. Into Miss Beale’s early struggle for pupils the question of boarding-houses scarcely entered, though for the want of them she often had sadly to witness the loss of good pupils to the College. There were among the day-pupils many children of Anglo-Indians in England for a time. On the return of these parents to India, they were forced to make boarding arrangements for the children left behind. It was not till 1864 that the first regularly constituted boarding-house was opened under Miss Caines. This was at 24 Lansdown Place, now joined to No. 25, and known as St. Helen’s. In 1870 Miss Caines removed to Fauconberg House, the first property purchased by the College.
It was only through actual experience that the position of the boarding-house and its head could be defined. In point of fact, this situation had to grow and develop according to the requirements of the College, which as formerly had to constitute precedents and make experiments. It is but seldom that the details of any greatscheme can be arranged beforehand with deliberate judgment, that all difficulties can be foreseen, and occasions of conflict avoided. They are more often worked out by single-minded intention which can endure through small errors and trifling disputes. The Lady Principal’s position was rendered more difficult by the tacit opposition of ‘local interest’ to the extension of boarding-house accommodation. The very existence of the College had been for many years precarious. Few people in Cheltenham wished it to become anything more than a suitable day-school for the sisters of boys at the College. Consequently a lady who took boarders was regarded with no special favour, and her actions were very often severely criticised.
In the difficult work of forming and increasing boarding-houses, mistakes were made by many. Miss Beale’s own belief in others, her habit of accepting people at their own estimate, of believing they were what she wished them to be, of judging character from her wide experience of books rather than from that of life, sometimes led her astray in her choice of fellow-workers. She who in her lonely position often felt the need of sympathy, to which she was ever responsive, was anxious to give it, even where she could not understand. This made her slow to bring about a change, lest sufficient opportunity for amendment had not been given. On the other hand, sometimes she could see that a change should be made promptly, but as she could not act alone a dangerous delay would ensue.
At first the position of a head of a boarding-house was little defined, and it was hard sometimes for a clever, well-intentioned woman, anxious to do the best for the children in her care, not to regard the work of the house as primary, that of the College as secondary only. Onelady, who was extremely capable and interested in her work, was ambitious to make her boarding-house a complete institution in itself, rather than an integral part of the College. Many of the girls in her charge came as her own relations or friends; she chose to adopt the position that it was right for her to decide whether they should be taught at her house or sent to College, and she denied the right of any one to interfere in her management. She also claimed the right to take another house for herself and her own children, where she could receive and entertain her friends. As soon as Miss Beale’s eyes were opened to the danger of such independent action, she did not hesitate a moment on the right course to be pursued with regard to the boarding-house management. She perceived that in this matter, as in the work of the school, there was no standing ground between obedience and independence. ‘I am so sorry for Miss Beale,’ wrote Mrs. William Grey to Miss Buss, ‘and so glad our Council determined to have nothing to do with Boarding-Houses. I cannot help thinking that the wisest course for the Cheltenham Council would be to wash their hands of them, only reserving to themselves, as we have, the right to refuse pupils from a house they disapprove of. There seems to me no tolerable alternative between this and the hostelry system.’
It may be safely said that never, even in moments of worst annoyance, did Miss Beale ever propose to ‘wash her hands’ of the boarding-houses. She felt they should be ‘organically related’ to the College life, a part of it which she could not do without, one which had in it great possibilities for extending and strengthening the influence of the College teaching, one which, neglected, must be an infinite source of difficulty, by which thestandard of the corporate life might be lowered, and its best work hindered.
So she persisted, lending her whole mind and strength to help in the evolution of a system which should be fair to individuals and the best for the College as a body. In 1890, after she had won her point, she wrote to Miss Arnold, then head-mistress of the Truro High School, who had consulted her on the subject:—
‘I think I told you that after many years, I have prevailed on our Council to take the whole risk of the boarding-houses,—the pecuniary risk is of course very great, and in case of war or sudden depression, I don’t exactly see how we should meet it, but one must have risks, and we find the moral risks of not taking pecuniary ones so great that we decided for the latter—and indeed we had to pay pretty considerable sums in law expenses and to get rid of unjust claims too. We could notprovethat these ladies had not lost money, if they said they had—and if they were bad managers they did perhaps lose—and an outcry was raised that we ruined poor ladies!’
‘I think I told you that after many years, I have prevailed on our Council to take the whole risk of the boarding-houses,—the pecuniary risk is of course very great, and in case of war or sudden depression, I don’t exactly see how we should meet it, but one must have risks, and we find the moral risks of not taking pecuniary ones so great that we decided for the latter—and indeed we had to pay pretty considerable sums in law expenses and to get rid of unjust claims too. We could notprovethat these ladies had not lost money, if they said they had—and if they were bad managers they did perhaps lose—and an outcry was raised that we ruined poor ladies!’
But the difficulties to be encountered on the way to this consummation were by no means slight, and involved great personal anxiety and pain. It was especially hard to her that she should be known by her own pupils to be in opposition to any who had been set over them. It was hard to feel that many with their partial knowledge of facts must misunderstand her, or childishly attribute her actions to commonplace motives of jealousy and love of power. Some part of these difficulties became fully public in 1882, when the College was involved in a libel case, and a lawsuit which was settled by arbitration. Exoneration from all blame followed in both instances. In the arbitration case the judgment was delivered by Mr. Justice Charles, and placed in a sealed envelope with the injunction that either party might open it on payment of £350. The Council didnot think it necessary to pay this money. Eventually those who had brought the action against the College did so, to find that the judgment had been pronounced against them on every count. It was a victory for the College and the Principal, but it had not been achieved without great toil and suffering on Miss Beale’s part. She dreaded the cross-examination with all the nervousness of a sensitive nature. Speaking of it afterwards, and of all it had cost her, she ever associated with the pain the remembrance of the immense help and sympathy she had received from her friend Mrs. James Owen, then a member of the Council, and would say, ‘Mrs. Owen said I should not be scorched in the fire.’ She was also upborne by the loyalty of her fellow-workers, both teachers and boarding-house mistresses, who signed a joint expression of their sympathy with her in her time of anxiety. Miss Buss gave more than words of sympathy, she was present herself in the arbitration-room when the case was tried. When it was over she wrote to her friend to this effect: ‘Yesterday I made the personal acquaintance of Miss ——. I fell in love with her because she is so intensely loyal to Cheltenham and to “dear Miss Beale.” I think if you could have heard her talk, unknown to her, you would have felt that the severe trial you have had to go through was more than compensated for by the love and loyalty it has called out to you and the College.’
The increase in the number of the boarding-houses, with their slightly different characteristics, brought an obvious advantage to the College. It led the way to still cheaper houses, and to the promotion of that work so dear always to Miss Beale, helping poor students and training teachers. Never heartily sympathetic with what is generally called charitable work, afraid of seeingmoney given without a really equivalent return in usefulness and good work, there was one appeal to which she never turned a deaf ear. Probably she never knew any case of a girl honestly trying to improve herself, and failing in the effort for want of means, without trying to help her. Her usual plan was to advance money, which she found was almost invariably returned to her in the course of time. She would, wherever it seemed right, ask for its return on the ground that it might be of use to others, and because she was ever careful to make those she helped recognise that the possession of money is a stewardship only. But it was offered and lent and sometimes given in such a way that there should be no personal feeling of obligation and debt. ‘There is a loan fund,’ she would say when there occurred a question of the removal of a promising pupil from the College on the score of expense. And hardly any one ever heard her say more than this of the large system of help which she initiated and to a very great extent sustained alone. Some of the boarding-house mistresses generously took one girl free, or for very low terms, but the work was quietly done, known only to few.
The establishment of scholarships did not fit into Miss Beale’s educational schemes. She was not wholly opposed to them. One, in 1870, was accepted for the College, when Colonel Pearce bestowed a gift of £1000 to found the Pearce Scholarship for the daughter of an army officer, and Miss Beale in the last year of her life established one for Casterton. But she had a great horror of a system by which one school or college could buy promising pupils from others, and she held that it was hard on earnest students who were not naturally quick to see assistance given only to ability. ‘I haverefused,’ she said at a later period, ‘all scholarships except one, the chief condition of which is poverty. Three scholarships have been offered unasked, and an endowment for two prizes, which would have formed a good advertisement, every year, but I have refused all.’
As the College grew, Miss Beale felt more and more the need of a house where those who were trying to train themselves to be teachers could board inexpensively, and in 1876 was made that beginning which, as she said, was ‘full of blessing to the College, and of much use beyond its bounds.’ This was before the Maria Grey Training College was opened, and when there was no institution at all in which women could receive definite preparation for becoming teachers in secondary schools.
Miss Mary Margaretta Newman, member of a family which had shown itself sympathetic and interested in Miss Beale’s work from the first, offered to take a furnished house for a small number of students, to give her services, and contribute besides £75 a year towards expenses. Miss Newman had seen, whilst helping Miss Selwyn in her school at Sandwell, how much some such assistance was needed; how many girls of good social standing were struggling to obtain the training necessary to fit them to earn their living as teachers. She therefore provided a home for a few, and by her quiet, gentle influence supplemented the College work, and won the affections of her household. ‘What we felt most was the simplicity with which she gave so much. She seemed unconscious that she was doing anything remarkable in going to live in a small house, with one servant, and undertaking all the labour such an economy implied.’[47]
Miss Newman’s work went on for scarcely a year,for at the end of 1877, after a very short illness, aggravated by the burden she had willingly laid upon herself, she died, leaving the work but just begun indeed, yet full of promise, and rendered by her sacrifice and death a sacred charge to the College and the Lady Principal. So indeed Miss Beale felt it to be, and in after years she would remember the life given in the cause she herself had so much at heart, and would write in her diary on December 31: ‘I think of Miss Newman’s death. Shall I not follow her example?’ Then for the first time Miss Beale, who had always maintained and acted on the principle that the College should earn its own living, asked for money to buy and furnish a suitable house for girls who could not afford the terms of the boarding-houses. She could not bear to refuse the many applications she received from those who were too poor to help themselves. About £1200 was immediately collected, one half being contributed by the College staff.
The work thus begun extended so rapidly that in little more than five years it was seen to be necessary that it should have a building of its own, and the trustees who had the management of the funds decided to build a residential College. This was opened under the name of St. Hilda’s in 1885.
The first ten years in the new buildings were a time of larger development for the College than any other in its history. Miss Beale’s own active life was also more full, and not less anxious, than it had ever been. There was never again a time of depression such as the year 1871 had been, when the College seemed to be almost losing ground, when in the whole course of the year only three fresh pupils entered. But the rapid increase on every hand of new, good, cheap schoolsnaturally fed her anxiety at a period when she had to justify to the Council her constant demand for more classrooms, music-rooms, halls, laboratories. She saw the immense importance of keeping ahead in these things. Other schools had endowments or guaranteed capital, the College could only increase and improve its plant out of the fees paid by the pupils. The Lady Principal did not wish it otherwise; but the constant remembrance of this made her very careful in expenditure, and ever desirous that all individual interest should be lost to sight in regard for the common welfare. There was something sharper than anxiety to bear over the boarding-house difficulties and the reconstitution of the Council. So much patience was needed, so much judgment in decisions, in avoiding mistakes, in retrieving them when made, that time and thought might well have been occupied with the care of actualities alone.
Yet it will not be surprising to some to know that it was just in these years that her inner life also became more full and more active, and that she was called upon to go through mental crises of great moment. The habit of prayer, difficult to maintain in a busy life, was strengthened by attendance at Retreats; a practice begun in 1877 to be continued yearly. Reading of every kind, with the exception of fiction, was diligently kept up, and thought was never more active.
The intellectual and spiritual struggles of this time permanently affected Miss Beale’s work and teaching. They cannot be passed over.
‘Es sind die, so viel erlittenTrübsal, Schmerzen, Angst, und Noth,Im Gebet auch oft gestrittenMit dem hochgelobten Gott.’Theodor Schenk.
‘Es sind die, so viel erlittenTrübsal, Schmerzen, Angst, und Noth,Im Gebet auch oft gestrittenMit dem hochgelobten Gott.’Theodor Schenk.
‘Es sind die, so viel erlittenTrübsal, Schmerzen, Angst, und Noth,Im Gebet auch oft gestrittenMit dem hochgelobten Gott.’Theodor Schenk.
‘Es sind die, so viel erlittenTrübsal, Schmerzen, Angst, und Noth,Im Gebet auch oft gestrittenMit dem hochgelobten Gott.’
‘Es sind die, so viel erlitten
Trübsal, Schmerzen, Angst, und Noth,
Im Gebet auch oft gestritten
Mit dem hochgelobten Gott.’
Theodor Schenk.
Theodor Schenk.
Dorothea Beale—largely owing to her sensitive nature and high ideals—had had her full share of the sufferings and disappointments of youth. And when she had gained the experience and habits of more mature years, when she had schooled herself to bear, when her position was assured, when she was free to associate largely with those most sympathetic to her, her zeal for the best ever caused a pressing sense of effort and strain. Certain commonplace troubles she had not known, as, for example, the want of money—a need which in fact she never experienced, and never really understood in others. And on the whole her health had been good. She regarded it as one of her first duties to consider this, and except for the fact that she had an inherent indifference to the character of the food she ate, the duty was not neglected. But in 1878 she was called upon to go through a period of weakness and anxiety which limited her powers for the time. In spite of her great self-control she was obliged to relax a little, to take more rest, while the effort to preserve that self-control made her seem, tosome who knew nothing of it, hard and unsympathetic. Very little indeed did she say of what she went through at this time, because she thought it best for others that she should be reserved and silent on the subject. The College and Miss Beale seemed to have a stability which could not be touched or changed, and she knew the value of this characteristic to her work. Probably no one in the College, and hardly any one outside it, perhaps none except her sisters and Miss Clarke, knew how near she was at this time to an absolute breakdown. The diary, still persistently kept, continued to be little more than a record of struggle against particular faults; yet here, from an occasional word and expression, the weariness and anxiety of the time may be gauged.
The year opened for Miss Beale with a special renewal of effort. Canon Body’s addresses at a Retreat she attended in Warrington Crescent in the first days of January were full of inspiration to her. This meant actively fresh effort, keener self-scrutiny, more watchfulness. ‘I remember,’ she wrote on January 24, the opening day of College, ‘I remember with grief the many neglects of the past. Forsake me not, neither reward me after my deserts.’
The next few weeks show a pathetic struggle against a growing sense of weakness. At first she blamed herself if duty was neglected, then as she knew herself to be ill, still felt that more might have been done, refusing to take sickness as an excuse. There are many living who were at College at this period, and to them the picture of this effort and suffering going on in the background of all that then seemed unfailingly vital and positive must have a double interest,—increasing tenderness for the memory of her who for their sakes was bearing a daily burden of pain, encouraging to fresh zeal by showing what a bravespirit may do even in weakness and depression. A few extracts to show this follow:—
So ended a term of great anxiety. One medical opinion, doubtless referred to in her diary of March 20,was of such a nature, that Miss Beale thought she must resign her work at once. At Hyde her sisters persuaded her to rest and to see another doctor, who took a more hopeful view, which was wholly justified by her gradual return to health.
Among the few who knew of this sorrow was the old pupil and friend, Miss Margaret Clarke. To her Miss Beale wrote from Hyde before she had received the second medical opinion, and the reply shows, far more than the diary can tell us, how deep was the gloom which hung over her way at this time. It might well have been written three years later, when Miss Beale was called upon to undergo greater suffering than any bodily pain alone can give, and suggests to those who read it now, that the darkness of that later time was shadowing her spirit even as early as this. The interest of it is the greater because it shows another who like Dorothea Beale, while faithful to her work, unsparing in care and thought for her children, had been called upon personally to know spiritual anguish. Such suffering, such loss, such deeper realisation of Divine love as are read in this letter are surely the portion of those who, having given much and helped many, are called to some further work of sympathy, needing perhaps ‘heart’s blood.’
‘My very dear Friend,—Your letter touches me so nearly, and calls out such true sympathy, that I cannot help yielding myself to the impulse to answer you, as one who, by her own experience, knows the pain and suffering you are now passing through. Last year at this time I was in it, and possibly just where you are now, where my complete faith in all that was most dear to me was tested; yes, tested and sifted, till all human longings and cravings, even those the most lawful, were laid low; God Himself seemed to draw near, and strip the soul of all it prized, and was proud of, asking one thing after another of it, and last of all the heart, whole and unshared, until, when Good Friday came, it could sympathise with the Crucified, as ithad never done before. Not that all that had not been done before as I believed, but this was in a way deeper, more searching than the soul had yet realised. I do not know if I am making myself clear to you, for it is difficult to put it into words. It was the unlearning human wisdom, and the getting ready to be “a little child,” to learn Divine Wisdom, in the school of the Kingdom of the Incarnate Word.‘And then, when all was yielded, at least in will, then came a desolation time, which none but those who have passed through it can know—a living death, as it were; the soul having just power to cling to the Invisible Cross, and say the Creed, as a witness perhaps more to itself, that faith was alive, than to God as an act of faith in Him. I never slept, (I was for) whole nights awake, (the) brain always at work trying to solve the difficult problems of God’s wisdom, and circumstances in my own life, and to find out whatwasright, whatwasHis Will. At last I was given a simple faithblindlyto give myself to God for whatever He wished for me. To let go reasonings and what I thought, etc., and say just as a little child “Our Father” with intention for what He willed. I did not know what it might be, but He knew, and I would trust Him, and then I went on to (think of) that seventeenth chapter of St. John, and claimed my share in the benefits of that prayer, in the answer that is ever coming to each separate member of Christ’s Body all along the years since it was prayed.‘And so, gradually, the passage was made into a nearer region, a nearer relationship to God, if I may so express myself. But I must not go on writing in this way. I can only tell you that what was then only a trembling venture of Faith has become a substantial reality in the life of the soul; the whole being, body, soul and spirit being penetrated by it, and the whole of life transformed by the “sunshine” which makes itself felt, even through stray clouds, which must come sometimes, and there is rest and peace in the soul—divine peace.‘Forgive me, dear Miss Beale, for writing in a way I scarcely ever do to any one.‘I know how impossible it will be for you to rest, but do try to do so, as long as you can.’
‘My very dear Friend,—Your letter touches me so nearly, and calls out such true sympathy, that I cannot help yielding myself to the impulse to answer you, as one who, by her own experience, knows the pain and suffering you are now passing through. Last year at this time I was in it, and possibly just where you are now, where my complete faith in all that was most dear to me was tested; yes, tested and sifted, till all human longings and cravings, even those the most lawful, were laid low; God Himself seemed to draw near, and strip the soul of all it prized, and was proud of, asking one thing after another of it, and last of all the heart, whole and unshared, until, when Good Friday came, it could sympathise with the Crucified, as ithad never done before. Not that all that had not been done before as I believed, but this was in a way deeper, more searching than the soul had yet realised. I do not know if I am making myself clear to you, for it is difficult to put it into words. It was the unlearning human wisdom, and the getting ready to be “a little child,” to learn Divine Wisdom, in the school of the Kingdom of the Incarnate Word.
‘And then, when all was yielded, at least in will, then came a desolation time, which none but those who have passed through it can know—a living death, as it were; the soul having just power to cling to the Invisible Cross, and say the Creed, as a witness perhaps more to itself, that faith was alive, than to God as an act of faith in Him. I never slept, (I was for) whole nights awake, (the) brain always at work trying to solve the difficult problems of God’s wisdom, and circumstances in my own life, and to find out whatwasright, whatwasHis Will. At last I was given a simple faithblindlyto give myself to God for whatever He wished for me. To let go reasonings and what I thought, etc., and say just as a little child “Our Father” with intention for what He willed. I did not know what it might be, but He knew, and I would trust Him, and then I went on to (think of) that seventeenth chapter of St. John, and claimed my share in the benefits of that prayer, in the answer that is ever coming to each separate member of Christ’s Body all along the years since it was prayed.
‘And so, gradually, the passage was made into a nearer region, a nearer relationship to God, if I may so express myself. But I must not go on writing in this way. I can only tell you that what was then only a trembling venture of Faith has become a substantial reality in the life of the soul; the whole being, body, soul and spirit being penetrated by it, and the whole of life transformed by the “sunshine” which makes itself felt, even through stray clouds, which must come sometimes, and there is rest and peace in the soul—divine peace.
‘Forgive me, dear Miss Beale, for writing in a way I scarcely ever do to any one.
‘I know how impossible it will be for you to rest, but do try to do so, as long as you can.’
After the Easter holidays Miss Beale was much better in health, and though her work through the summer was carried on with a good deal of strain and weariness, she was able to do it as fully as usual. The summer holidayswere spent partly at Hyde Court with her mother, and partly at Cheltenham, and by the end of them she was much rested and again able to take the walks she enjoyed. The opening day of the autumn term was September 17. ‘Help me not to disgrace my profession!’ she exclaimed in her diary of that day.
Two years after this date Hyde Court ceased to be the regular holiday home, for in November 1881 Mrs. Beale died. In one of her later letters to her ‘Principal’ daughter she had written: ‘I hunger to see you, my darling. You have been so good to me always, your reward will come.’ Such words of praise are dear indeed when the lips that spoke them are cold. They were treasured by Miss Beale. But in this bereavement, as in all times when made conscious of the shadow of death, specially of her own, she tried to face the mystery with clear-sighted gaze, to realise sincerely the impression it was meant to produce. She would not let expressions of comfort and hope, which she welcomed and accepted to the full, or any brightness brought by the kindness of the living, hide for her the penitential aspect of death.
The following fragmentary thoughts seem to come from the very chamber of death, and were written on the day of the month which was to be the date of her own death, twenty-five years later:—
‘November 9, 1881.‘At first death seemed, as I looked at that pale face, simply terrible—how could I die? This morning I went again and touched the cold hand, and gazed into the face, so calm and wax-like. She who had rejoiced over my birth fifty years ago was now perhaps watching me. Does the spirit linger round its earthly tabernacle for a while? The memory of old times came back—not only the love and unselfishness, but the harshness too, the faults, the sins, I find in myself—surely she feels it now as the light shines on her. Does she not see herself more as God sees her? For every sinful word we shall give account.Surely this sorrow is a purifying fire, and the words are true, if we would judge ourselves here we shall not be judged.‘Here, where we have partaken together of His Body and Blood, I kneel near that empty tabernacle—but a spiritual Presence is with us—purifying us both and drawing us nearer to Him in Whom living and dead are one.‘Bless and purify our spirits, O Lord, with the dew of Thy grace, make us gentler and holier. Through the veil we seem to see Thee nearer. Longing, praying that we may not, as the rich man, have to feel the burning shame for our unloving spirit, now that we see His love, His tender, searching eye.‘It becomes to me a sacred chapel, I can scarcely bear to part. The room is fragrant with the gifts of tender flowers from loving friends, and there is a peace here abiding in the sense of God’s continued, loving, healing discipline. “I change not!”’
‘November 9, 1881.
‘At first death seemed, as I looked at that pale face, simply terrible—how could I die? This morning I went again and touched the cold hand, and gazed into the face, so calm and wax-like. She who had rejoiced over my birth fifty years ago was now perhaps watching me. Does the spirit linger round its earthly tabernacle for a while? The memory of old times came back—not only the love and unselfishness, but the harshness too, the faults, the sins, I find in myself—surely she feels it now as the light shines on her. Does she not see herself more as God sees her? For every sinful word we shall give account.Surely this sorrow is a purifying fire, and the words are true, if we would judge ourselves here we shall not be judged.
‘Here, where we have partaken together of His Body and Blood, I kneel near that empty tabernacle—but a spiritual Presence is with us—purifying us both and drawing us nearer to Him in Whom living and dead are one.
‘Bless and purify our spirits, O Lord, with the dew of Thy grace, make us gentler and holier. Through the veil we seem to see Thee nearer. Longing, praying that we may not, as the rich man, have to feel the burning shame for our unloving spirit, now that we see His love, His tender, searching eye.
‘It becomes to me a sacred chapel, I can scarcely bear to part. The room is fragrant with the gifts of tender flowers from loving friends, and there is a peace here abiding in the sense of God’s continued, loving, healing discipline. “I change not!”’
During these years outside interests multiplied. New friendships were formed; some old ones were strengthened. The College Magazine, the first definite link forged with old pupils, was begun in 1880. Miss Beale made more acquaintances outside the College. In London she met many who shared her educational interests. In Cheltenham she attended, and often read and spoke at, a small literary gathering called the Society of Friends, which met from time to time at different houses. The diary becomes full of reference to Mrs. Middleton and Mrs. Owen. Through Mrs. Middleton she came to know Mr. Wilkinson’s[48]great evangelistic work in his fashionable London parish. She often went to hear him preach, read his books, and showed them to others. Mrs. Owen introduced her to theLifeand philosophy of James Hinton, which made a very deep impression. At Mr. Owen’s house she met many earnest social workers and thinkers. Among these was Miss Ellice Hopkins, whose devoted work revived in tenfold forceher early pity for those who need to be ‘found.’ The increasing vigour of the College life and work was ever bringing in new ideas. Men who were making their mark as thinkers and teachers of their own special subjects often came to lecture. Among the most enthralled listeners to the eloquence of Professor William Knight, to the marvellous fairy-tales of science told by Professor Barrett, was the Lady Principal herself. Teachers and educationists of widely different views came to see the work of the school, often to find that the successful head-mistress who was able to show them so much was willing and eager to learn from them, and to see matters from their standpoint. Meanwhile she was reading as widely and eagerly as ever.
It was a time when long-accepted opinions were unsettled for many, by new scientific theories, or by a greater sensitiveness to the mystery of pain and the apparent indifference of a part of the so-called religious world in presence of the deepest wrongs and suffering. Dorothea Beale had to take her part in the special difficulties of her own day. The battle has been shifted to another ground for this generation, which scarcely knows what resistance was made, what suffering was endured by some heroic souls in the last, and at what a price a larger spiritual consciousness was bought.
The contact with so many minds, the widening circle of acquaintance with workers of different views and methods, and especially the appeal for aid in religious perplexity constantly made by those who came under her influence, doubtless helped to precipitate that sorrow, which, though in its acutest phase of short duration, was the sharpest trial Miss Beale was ever called upon to experience; one on which she never ceased to look back with horror. She who had said that she ‘could truly taketo herself the words of Faber,’[49]who had been from earliest childhood conscious of a protecting Presence, and had even then ‘found prayer a joy,’ now in late middle life felt herself, as it were, cast out. At an age when the inexperienced questionings of youth were over, when she hoped to find faith and hope strengthened by knowledge, it seemed for a moment as if they had died down altogether.