CHAPTER XIIIPARERGA

‘She did not go very much into every sort of detail, but I wonder what use can be made of doctrinal details by people whose general scheme of things is one into which they don’t fit? and that, I suppose, is the trouble of most people who are puzzled by such things at all. Whereas Miss Beale, in anticipation of this difficulty, always seemed to me to set forth a spiritual construction of the universe, into which no spiritual truth learned afterwards could possibly fail to fit, supposing it to be a truth in very deed. I do not see how any teacher can possibly do a greater work; though I do not say for a moment that she did no more.’

Certainly in the weekly lesson to the whole First Division of the school she did a great deal more. Another old pupil may be quoted here:—

‘Speaking for myself, I can say without hesitation that it was from her that I learned the truth of the sacramental life. One thing she said to me, and she repeated it with emphasis at the time of my Confirmation, is as fresh in my mind to-day as theday she said it. Again, I can say for myself, and my reading has been fairly wide, that her influence has been entirely against any weakening of faith. Knowing something at least of her character and intellectual power, it was natural to feel that where she was steadfast one need not be afraid. More than that, her direct teaching by its sympathetic insight into the deepest aspects of life was always, and always will be inspiring. If it is true that there was something vague in her utterances, I believe it was because she had reached a plane of thought where the words which have become the current thought of everyday life are inadequate forms of expression.’

If, in order to seek some erring spirit, Miss Beale did at times seem to neglect others, it must be remembered that in teaching the Bible, more than at any other time, she really took up the humble position of simply bringing her hearers to think and listen for themselves. This was the intention which lay below the reverent behaviour exacted from a Scripture class. By means of this she strove to impress the importance to the hearer of being still, ready, attentive, free from selfish or idle thought. She prepared not only the lesson, but also herself to give it, with a devotion and self-denial which she never allowed to become relaxed by pressing business, age, or infirmity.

Not only was Friday evening strictly kept for the final preparation of the lesson, but the ordinary details of school business attended to before prayers were put aside on the day it was given. No one in the College would have thought on those days of speaking to Miss Beale beforehand except on some urgent matter. Writing to a young teacher in 1880, she said: ‘I used to prepare my lessons on my knees, (don’t say this to others). You would find it a help, I think, to do this sometimes.’

This earnestness and diligence were shared by many of the class-teachers. In a short account of Miss Belcher, which appeared in the College Magazine of 1898, MissBeale said: ‘Only those who knew her intimately were aware of the long study and extreme pains she took with her Scripture lessons. Every Friday at Cheltenham we used to meet and go over the Saturday lesson together.’

The annual midsummer examination was no mere test of knowledge gained, but, like the weekly notes, a real exercise of thought. In this matter Miss Beale received the full sympathy and co-operation of the Rev. E. Worsley, who for many years examined the upper classes of the College in Scripture.[71]

The subject of Miss Beale’s Scripture lessons was generally a Gospel or an Epistle. Occasionally she would take the book of Genesis, from which she would draw much instruction on Sin, Freewill, Faith. Perhaps her favourite subject was the Gospel of St. John. Remembering the Saturday class, the awe with which she would speak of the Logos, or with passionate devotion follow the sublime teaching of the later chapters of that book, the glowing ardour with which she would heap up fact and proof concerning the Resurrection, occur at once to the memory.

Letters to old pupils who had become teachers in other schools show Miss Beale’s reasons for dwelling on certain points. To Miss Wolseley Lewis, head-mistress of the Graham Street Church High School, she wrote in 1897 concerning 1 Cor. vii.:—

‘Yes—I have taken it. There is no need to insist on every word. In reading one’s Bible some things are not suitable forchildren, but the teaching of those chapters regarding the sacredness of the body is extremely valuable. Robertson on Corinthians is very helpful.‘I will see if I can find my notes, they would be useful to you; but you need not be afraid to take it, you will like it.’

‘I will see if I can find my notes, they would be useful to you; but you need not be afraid to take it, you will like it.’

And again in January 1898 on the same subject:—

‘I have looked in vain for my notes on Corinthians. I think Robertson will give you much useful help in working out the more difficult chapters. It is very important with elder girls not to leave out the teaching which comes naturally out of the Epistle, on the sacredness of marriage, and the responsibility of choice,—on the certain promises that if we ask guidance it will be given. The example of Abraham in choosing a wife for his son may be cited,—the necessity of waiting for guidance,—praying for light until it comes, when we are called on to decide the most important question of our whole lives. One may insist on the duty of being so equipped that we can earn our own living, and not be tempted into the disgrace of a mercenary marriage. One may just touch upon the detestable teaching of some modern works, that our affections and acts are beyond our control. I feel sure you will find you can do much to help girls thus.’

To Miss Arnold at Truro she wrote:—

‘As regards Acts: I should say not; because one is so much drawn aside to history and geography; but one may work in Epistles, etc., if there is an examination required. I made up my mind I would not take it again.’

And again, in 1891, on the use of Scripture teaching:—

‘I think what we should do is to make it come home to the children in their daily life as a clergyman hardly can. We know their faults and temptations. I often take the baptismal vow. I really can’t find time to write much, and it is so impossible to suggest much. I am sure you will find things easier when you begin.’

The immense detail of the teaching, following as it did the innumerable suggestions that one text might give, was sometimes confusing to a new class. A term’s lessons might be occupied with a few verses only. Thenthere is no doubt that Miss Beale’s large way of thinking and comprehensive form of expression was difficult to follow. This did not lessen with age. New pupils, particularly of late years, were often filled with despair at the prospect of having to write out the lessons. Many felt the Sunday work it involved to be a strain. This was less the case at first, when perhaps intellectual interests had more undisputed sway. The life in College, as in other spheres, has become more full and offers fewer spaces for uninterrupted thought. Sometimes a whisper that her Scripture lessons were too difficult reached the Lady Principal. It grieved her, but she never quite believed it. She wrote of it to Miss Arnold:—

‘I like you to tell me what is said, but then I do not like to know more.... There are others much older to whom I address myself, and I see they do enter more and more as the year goes on, and I am teaching more now for the future. I do think I fortify some more for the trials of their future life than I did when you were here. Those who cannot follow, ought to be put into a class where the teaching is less difficult. They do not say this, I hope, about my Monday lessons, only the Saturday....’

The patient correction and explanation of the pupils’ essays on the lessons was not the least part of the Scripture work. How full, elaborate, and diligent this correction was will not readily be understood by any who do not know the Cheltenham system. But though Miss Beale wrote a great deal in the girls’ books, her corrections were often framed on the Socratic method so much prized by her. To take an example. A vague use of the wordinfinitelyhas written against it, ‘Do you mean from eternity?’ ‘Theuniverse,’ writes one pupil lightly, to have the word underlined and with ‘Meaning’ written above it. And she had a wonderful eye for thoughtand effort. No writer, however poor, whose work showed signs of these was discouraged. One writes of this:—

‘I have one of my old Scripture books, and on looking it over, for the first time for many years, I am most struck by her power of seeing good in the very crude attempts of a girl of sixteen. It seems to me marvellous that she, with her great intellect, could have put herself on our level, so as to see when we hadthought, and to encourage us with the “s” and “g” that we valued so highly. I am afraid I used to look out more for the “g’s” than for the comments and corrections that showed how much pains she tookherselfwith each attempt of ours.’

A good deal of enthusiastic drudgery was needed for the corrector of twenty or thirty Scripture books every week. Even Miss Beale found it hard at times, and would write:—

‘Much idle time again. At 10P.M.Thursday not touched a correction. Thus unfaithful while I am so much helped.’

And:—

‘Tired, but terribly negligent. Put off books in a really unpardonable way, and felt irritable at work.’

In dealing with individual character, faults, and weakness Miss Beale showed no common tact, and often surpassing astuteness. To begin with, she was herself so well disciplined, so well attuned to the highest thought of work for others, that probably she did not even feel irritated by the errors and mistakes of her children. Certainly she never showed annoyance. It is impossible even to think of her being satirical or sarcastic either in teaching or in dealing with faults of manner or character. She would have considered it unpardonable in an under-teacher to be so, almost as reprehensible as to treat or speak of a child as stupid. She had indeed a special love for ‘ugly ducklings,’ in whom she would frequently perceive and draw out a latent swanhood.

Some things—such as what she termed the ‘petty larceny of her time’ by those who prolonged an interview by aimless small talk—did irritate her; but she would no more have been annoyed by the shortcomings of a child than a doctor would be at the illness of a patient. Though able to adapt herself spontaneously to individual characteristics, she had certain distinct lines along which she worked. Dealing with ordinary childish faults she would make no appeal on high religious grounds, used no set or stock phrases. Always, in big and little things, she would show the child some ground for expecting right action from her, pointing out something probably connected with her home which, a legitimate source of satisfaction, should be also a spur to do well. Or she would treat a rebellious act in such a way as to rob it of all its delight. An amusing instance of this was told by a writer in theGuardianof November 21, 1906: ‘On one occasion a very clever student, with an unruly temper, refused, because some one had annoyed her, to eat her breakfast on the day of an important examination. Her form mistress begged Miss Beale to persuade the girl to have at least some milk. She was sent to Miss Beale, and was greatly startled by—“I hear you are fasting to-day; for a temper like yours it is probably a wise discipline.” Nothing more was said, but the girl did not refuse her luncheon.’ Such homœopathic treatment was sometimes also applied to idleness, a rare fault in a schoolgirl. It was, in ancient days, occasionally known in the Third Division at Cheltenham. Quite rarely, in consequence, a little girl would be allowed to do nothing but sit still all the morning. No one had a chance of showing obstinacy. It was a relief to more than one young teacher to be told that ‘You must never let a child have the satisfaction of holding out againstyou.’ If such a thing did occur, there was no contest, no opposition of superior power on the part of a teacher; a few, very few words from the Lady Principal would make the child see the futility and silliness of her attitude.

A moral delinquency was, however, met with the very greatest seriousness. Parents were sometimes surprised at the extraordinary pains Miss Beale would take to obtain the confession of such a fault as copying a lesson. The slightest suspicion of dishonesty was always followed up at once, but the act was never brought home to the offender until there was positive proof. Then the way would be made easy for her, the lie prevented by something like this: ‘My child, I am sure you have too good a conscience to rest with such a thing as this upon it.’ Conviction and confession of a fault made it immediately possible to show how it came about, how it might be prevented in the future. Especially in the matter of untruthfulness Miss Beale would trace the outside fault to its source, showing it to be a symptom of some corrupting force within, cowardice, vanity, or idleness. In this connection it is well worth while to read her remarkable little paper on Truth.[72]

One tale of her discrimination may well be told. A class-teacher received some anonymous letters which she took to Miss Beale, naming the girl she took to be the writer. Some days passed. The teacher thought the matter forgotten, when one morning Miss Beale said to her, ‘Send —— to me. I can see by her face this morning that she will tell me all.’ Miss Beale was not disappointed either in the confession or its effects.

No one could reprove like Miss Beale. Her grief, her admonition were expressed not only with so much sympathy, but with such an absolute impersonal sense ofrightness and justice, that it was impossible to resent them. ‘Nothing is more touching,’ she wrote in 1898, ‘than the penitence of children, when they find that we have seen the good which is hidden, and not only the evil that comes forth; that we know, not only what is done, but what is resisted.’[73]Any who had so failed became a special care. ‘We try,’ she wrote once, ‘to make her feel there is no anger at all, but sympathy and an anxious watchfulness which will, we hope, make her more watchful over herself.’

To break the rule of silence was always regarded as a great fault. A careless pupil, conscious of breaking it only once or twice, would be surprised to find in her term’s report, ‘Disobedient to rule.’

A girl whose influence was seen to be a source of evil—a single act or conversation might be enough to prove it—was instantly removed. Careful as Miss Beale was to let no pupil go who might by any possibility be induced to stay, she never hesitated a moment in a case of this kind. The extreme seriousness with which she regarded this may be gathered from the following letter to a head-mistress:—

‘This is grievous. How is it that girls were allowed to go out by themselves? I wonder, too, that Miss —— did notseethere was something wrong. No girls can act thus without some unnatural excitement. Then are there no prefects in the house? no elder girls to be relied on?—no confidential servant? I don’t see how you can keepanyone of the three, but perhaps there are degrees of guilt. It was so different at ——. A girl began totalkas she ought not—the younger girls told the seniors, the seniors came to ——; she told me, and within two hours the girl had left the house. There ought to be such confidence between the seniors and the head of the house, and constant vigilance over the girls’ characters andinsight. I always feel that a school is at the mercy of one naughty girl, and we mustnever relax our vigilance. It is sad to think that they have degraded women in the eyes of all that know it.’

Such instances are stated, not because it was continually the part of the Principal and her staff to deal with iniquity. On the contrary, the order and conduct of the school were singularly good,—the sense of duty, fostered by a call to exercise it rather than by precept, was unusually high. One means by which this was maintained was the constant collaboration of the parents. In all matters Miss Beale tried to take them with her, encouraged them to come to her, to talk over the children, spoke to the children about them, wrote to them on special matters, tried to get them to understand her aims. Her letters, too, show what pains she took to bring about a real co-operation. On one occasion no less than ten letters passed between Principal, parent, and class-teacher on so simple a matter as a child returning in the afternoon, according to a school rule, to do a lesson over again. Miss Beale won the child to see and do what was right, but she also wrote to the mother:—

‘I fear you have led your child to think there is a question to be settled now as to which is the supreme authority. Of course, if this is so, it is much to be deplored; it is something like a conflict between father and mother before their child. We so earnestly wish that the home and school should be one in spirit. If this cannot be, it is best, as I have already said, that the child should be placed in another school.’

One letter to a parent on a matter of the same kind ended with this postscript: ‘Sometimes we cannot, and sometimes we ought not, to keep a promise made under a wrong impression. Consider Herod’s case.’

Parents who did not send their children back on the right day, or who kept them at home for insufficientreason, always heard from her. She would write thus:

‘Had I known how difficult it would be for —— to return, I should have advised her remaining here for her holiday’; or, ‘I know things are not considered so serious at a girls’ school as at a boys’ school, but no boy would be received back, I am sure, at one of our great public schools who had been absent without the leave of the Head-master.’

On the other hand, Miss Beale was always most anxious to support the authority and dignity of the parent. Once, when this seemed not to have been done by a teacher, she wrote: ‘She saw when I pointed it out how very wrong it was even to hint to a child that I thought her mother in the wrong.’ ‘She was never tired,’ ran a notice by an old pupil after her death, ‘of impressing upon the girls that home must come first in their affections. It was indeed pathetic to hear her speak, as she did almost weekly in her addresses to the assembled divisions, of the beauty of the relation of a child to its parents.’

It is impossible to do more than refer to the many letters which show the confidence and gratitude of the College parents, but, as an example, one from a father who held high official rank, on his daughter’s passing an examination in 1877, may be quoted, with its good wishes which were so entirely realised:—

‘Excuse my sending you one line of sincere thanks for your valuable (and inestimable, I may call it) friendship towards my dear daughter.‘We were immensely pleased at her success, which we attribute entirely to the love of work instilled into her by your system at College generally, as well as by your personal influence. You not only obtain the respect and the devoted love and loyalty of your girls, but through them the admiration of their parents and all those who take an interest in their careers. I am sure few persons in the army of teachers are more highlyesteemed than yourself, few for whom more hearty prayers are offered for a long, long life of usefulness.‘We feel so proud of our [girl’s] success. With every good wish for the health and prosperity both of yourself and your glorious College,’ etc.

‘Excuse my sending you one line of sincere thanks for your valuable (and inestimable, I may call it) friendship towards my dear daughter.

‘We were immensely pleased at her success, which we attribute entirely to the love of work instilled into her by your system at College generally, as well as by your personal influence. You not only obtain the respect and the devoted love and loyalty of your girls, but through them the admiration of their parents and all those who take an interest in their careers. I am sure few persons in the army of teachers are more highlyesteemed than yourself, few for whom more hearty prayers are offered for a long, long life of usefulness.

‘We feel so proud of our [girl’s] success. With every good wish for the health and prosperity both of yourself and your glorious College,’ etc.

Lastly and supremely, it was through Miss Beale’s own personal influence upon her teachers, her clearly defined example always before them, that the spirit of the College came to be what it was. She had the gift of inspiration in that rare degree which makes actual direction of less value. She did not neglect details; she would indicate minor matters deserving of attention which others would overlook; she often quoted at a teachers’ meeting the example of the great general who, on taking over a command, first paid attention to the boots of his men. But it was never necessary for her to harp upon little things, or to go personally to see if her wishes had been carried out. One, who had had some years’ experience in teaching before she arrived at Cheltenham as a student, spoke with something like rapture of the College organisation as it appeared to her coming fresh from other places of education.

‘If I had a spare hour in the morning, it was useless to try and concentrate my thoughts on any study, I was simply fascinated by the superior attraction of watching Miss Beale’s government of her little kingdom. No monarch ever had more absolute sway over his subjects; all the threads responded to her lightest touch....‘The College, as Miss Beale made it, was an organism, the product of inner forces needing constant renewal of vitality, not a vast machine, working without friction for the production of clever women.‘Then, for the first time, my soul conceived the possibility of a beneficent Spirit watching over the general good, and yet caring for the needs of the humblest individual. Thus she, who so loved to point out that outward things are sacramental exponents of the invisible, became herself a channel through which I realised things unseen.’

‘The College, as Miss Beale made it, was an organism, the product of inner forces needing constant renewal of vitality, not a vast machine, working without friction for the production of clever women.

‘Then, for the first time, my soul conceived the possibility of a beneficent Spirit watching over the general good, and yet caring for the needs of the humblest individual. Thus she, who so loved to point out that outward things are sacramental exponents of the invisible, became herself a channel through which I realised things unseen.’

This influence was not gained through the more ordinary ways of intimacy. In one sense Miss Beale saw very little of her teachers, some, as the staff became very large, she hardly knew at all, though naturally with a few of the older ones she became more really intimate. There were also a few special instances of close friendship. Notably may be mentioned that of Miss Martha Brown, who came to Cheltenham about 1873, no longer young or strong. Her actual work in the College lasted but a short time, for her health soon failed altogether, though a keen mind, occupied and interested by a true love of knowledge and desire to impart it, kept her up for a year or so, until she was forced to resign herself to her last illness. For more than a year she remained in Miss Beale’s house, Miss Beale herself sometimes sharing with Miss Gore the task of nursing and caring for her in every way, holding it, indeed, a privilege to wait upon one whose spirit so soared above her circumstances,—she was poor as well as hopelessly ill,—one who, regarding the mysteries of science as a lesson-book given to man by God, did not weary in her study of them even when near the gates of death. Miss Brown is often mentioned in Miss Beale’s diary, and later her name occurs frequently among those who had passed beyond the veil, and whom Miss Beale specially loved to honour at a Guild meeting.

With regard to the greater number of the staff, though it is to be feared that her dislike of spending trifling sums of money stood in the way of even small hospitalities, this can have been but a secondary reason why she did not see more of them. It was a principle with her to spend time on recreation only so far as would help work; it was a principle to use the short interviews which alone were possible among largenumbers in the most economical way; finally, it was a principle that influence may be stronger and better for detachment from everyday occasions. To spend time on small talk would only fritter away good influence. Yet, in thinking of this, there must occur to the memory of some, at least, that she had a kind of dread of the word influence, as implying something personal, that she thought it dangerous to try to establish a sphere of influence, that she never consciously tried to acquire it. Once when a petition was put forward against the suffrage for women, Miss Beale, who declined to sign it, said that one reason urged upon her for doing so seemed so poor, namely, that the vote would impair the influence of women with men.

One aim, a common self-devotion in all was what she desired. To further it meetings of the staff were constantly held, when she would speak serious words which would burn themselves into the soul of many a young teacher. Her intense earnestness impressed, her tremendous claim was irresistible. Nothing for self! all for those committed to your care,—your whole life arranged so as best to further your work! This was the claim she made, and to this she found response. Individually she helped much by a quiet word now and then, by a little unexpected note, sometimes by a long letter. One young teacher, who was apt to become excited in the enjoyment of her work, was surprised one morning to receive in the midst of it a little note, which, when deciphered, ran, ‘My dear child, try to work quietly. We must not let good feeling go off in steam.’ Those who were long at Cheltenham could tell of many such instances of watchful kindness; letters to those who left to work elsewhere are full of it. She had a wonderfully keen perception for reality of intention andearnestness in work, and was quick to encourage any who showed these qualities. One who was long on the staff at Cheltenham has written thus of the help she received from the Principal when she first went:—

‘I often think of the days when I first began to teach, just a beginner. How Miss Beale encouraged and inspired one. I remember when she came in to one of my early geography lessons, an atrociously bad one, she spoke so kindly to me afterwards about it, and suggested that I should give up the subject for a time and study it before I taught it again. Later, she showed me a book with new ideas on the teaching of geography, and asked if I would try again. I did, and it became my special subject whilst I was at College, all through her kindly encouragement and help. She was always so delightfully sympathetic about one’s family and friends too, and she never forgot one’s home circumstances.’

When it was necessary to find fault or alter an arrangement Miss Beale never shrank from doing what she believed to be for the good of the whole, even at the cost of personal convenience. But she was always careful not to reprove except in such a way as to leave an absolute sense of justice. There was no sting in her rebuke. And she could own herself wrong. She had no foolish fear about giving herself away. One member of the staff could tell of long and repeated application for an arrangement which she knew to be right, but which Miss Beale absolutely and bluntly refused. At last it was granted. Miss Beale herself came and stood patiently watching the removal of desks, etc., involved. It took at least an hour. When she had seen it finished, she said: ‘I see you were right in insisting on this.’ ‘She has given in, and I could die for her!’ exclaimed the teacher, as she reported the incident to another concerned in it.

It has often been said that the College teachers were overworked. It would be truer, perhaps, to state that too many chose to overwork, and that it was easy todo so. Miss Beale, who taught, read, wrote so much, interviewed people, conducted any amount of College business, and yet found time to write upon Browning or the Fourth Dimension, was unable rightly to estimate how little a young woman of average intelligence can do. She had to learn it by actual experience of cases, and she tried to learn it. She was always anxious to readjust a burden, took infinite trouble to do so, but did not always realise the weakness of many a willing horse, or the want of common-sense, which will make people heap up tasks or work without plan. She never wanted to play herself, could not understand that any one should seriously wish to do so; she therefore regarded such a thing as the teachers’ tennis-ground as quite superfluous.[74]Nor could she understand why any should wish to live out of sight of the place of their work. Even in the summer holidays she frequently chose the Sanatorium for a residence. Her own house was gradually absorbed by the College buildings, until it became almost as shut from the outer world as the women’s apartments in an oriental establishment, with no proper air and light of its own, only such as was derived from the surrounding corridors of the beloved College. Miss Beale preferred it should be so. Yet this attitude was but the defect of the great qualities by which she was enabled to make a complete self-surrender, and to call upon others to do the same ‘for the work’s sake.’ The only teachers who really felt ill-used or misunderstood, and who perhaps had some genuine ground for their complaint, were those who were unwilling to take trouble over fresh methods and subjects, or who were unable to rise to the high standard put before them, innocently thinking that the profession of a school-mistresswas just an interesting occupation, or a means of earning a livelihood. Yet the practical side had its place. It was to Miss Beale’s foresight and initiative that the Pension Fund was in the first instance due.

Miss Beale’s letters to Miss Clara Arnold, with whom she had a close correspondence from the time Miss Arnold left the College to become a teacher until her death in March 1906, show at once her ideal, and her close individual care for her own child. Some of the most interesting are quoted here:—

‘May God bless you and prosper your work. You look to me too eager,—will you understand my word? Try to feel more what I was saying to-day, that work is not ours but God’s, and so we may look up peacefully, trustingly, committing our work to Him. If we try to serve Him in sincerity, He will perfect that which is lacking. Are not those chapters in Ezekiel comforting, when we feel our shortcomings, and that we sometimes lead children wrongly? Because the shepherds made them to err—“I myself will be their shepherd.”’

‘June 1881.‘I wish I could help you, my dear child. I have copied out for you parts of an address given to teachers some years ago by Mr. Body.[75]I took notes of it and send some to you. You must not let your spiritual life die down, you must get oil to burn in the lamp of your being: that spirit of grace and life and light of the soul. Such times of dryness do seem to be sent at times to try our faith; whether we serve God for His gifts and the joys of religion, but often they are the result of disobedience to the Voice of the Spirit. “Because I called and ye refused,” etc. Some unfaithfulness to what we knew to be right, some self-indulgent ways, some sloth. Sometimes there is a sin unknown, and God would make us search it out; sometimes hidden like Achan’s piece of gold, it causes us to turn our backs on our enemies. We have to find out and acknowledge the sin.‘I don’t understand about your Sundays. I find I need so much that quiet day. I think you shouldresistmaking it asocialday, as friends expect,—have a good portion alone for prayerand study—for the study of rather deep books. “Build yourselves up, beloved, in your most holy faith.” Take portions of the Bible and work them out with good commentaries, above all with prayerful study.‘Do you intercede enough? If our prayers become selfish they lose life. Remember the cruse of oil.‘I wonder if you could sometimes go to St. Peter’s, Eaton Square, to a Bible class, which Mr. Wilkinson holds generally once a fortnight on Fridays after afternoon service. I should like you to see him; but I care for his teaching on Sundays less than on week-days. It is a fashionable congregation and the church crowded, still I wish you would go, because he seems to feel the presence of a living God more than almost any one I have heard.‘Do you go to Church now or to the Brethren’s services? To me the Church services and seasons, and especially the silent half-hour while others are communicating, is full of teaching. “I will come to them and make them to sit down to meat and will serve them.” Do you know the “Imitation”? If not, let me send you a copy. Perhaps God speaks toyoubetter in other ways.‘Have you let opportunities slip of helping others? Now see if there is some one to whom you might give a cup of cold water. Thank God for such an opportunity, and ask Him to refresh your own soul and He will, but you must be patient. Not at first does He answer. Partly this dryness is to teach you humility and sympathy.‘I would recommend you to be sympathetic in spite of it. Make some definite rule for devotion andkeepto it.‘Be particular abouttime, one may waste so much in mere talk; have some rule and respect it.‘Take a little time at mid-day for prayer. Then if you don’t feel right, just go on quietly and untroubled, trying todoas well as you can.‘Read some daily portion on your knees and look up in faith. He “feedeth the young ravens that call upon Him.”

‘June 1881.

‘I wish I could help you, my dear child. I have copied out for you parts of an address given to teachers some years ago by Mr. Body.[75]I took notes of it and send some to you. You must not let your spiritual life die down, you must get oil to burn in the lamp of your being: that spirit of grace and life and light of the soul. Such times of dryness do seem to be sent at times to try our faith; whether we serve God for His gifts and the joys of religion, but often they are the result of disobedience to the Voice of the Spirit. “Because I called and ye refused,” etc. Some unfaithfulness to what we knew to be right, some self-indulgent ways, some sloth. Sometimes there is a sin unknown, and God would make us search it out; sometimes hidden like Achan’s piece of gold, it causes us to turn our backs on our enemies. We have to find out and acknowledge the sin.

‘I don’t understand about your Sundays. I find I need so much that quiet day. I think you shouldresistmaking it asocialday, as friends expect,—have a good portion alone for prayerand study—for the study of rather deep books. “Build yourselves up, beloved, in your most holy faith.” Take portions of the Bible and work them out with good commentaries, above all with prayerful study.

‘Do you intercede enough? If our prayers become selfish they lose life. Remember the cruse of oil.

‘I wonder if you could sometimes go to St. Peter’s, Eaton Square, to a Bible class, which Mr. Wilkinson holds generally once a fortnight on Fridays after afternoon service. I should like you to see him; but I care for his teaching on Sundays less than on week-days. It is a fashionable congregation and the church crowded, still I wish you would go, because he seems to feel the presence of a living God more than almost any one I have heard.

‘Do you go to Church now or to the Brethren’s services? To me the Church services and seasons, and especially the silent half-hour while others are communicating, is full of teaching. “I will come to them and make them to sit down to meat and will serve them.” Do you know the “Imitation”? If not, let me send you a copy. Perhaps God speaks toyoubetter in other ways.

‘Have you let opportunities slip of helping others? Now see if there is some one to whom you might give a cup of cold water. Thank God for such an opportunity, and ask Him to refresh your own soul and He will, but you must be patient. Not at first does He answer. Partly this dryness is to teach you humility and sympathy.

‘I would recommend you to be sympathetic in spite of it. Make some definite rule for devotion andkeepto it.

‘Be particular abouttime, one may waste so much in mere talk; have some rule and respect it.

‘Take a little time at mid-day for prayer. Then if you don’t feel right, just go on quietly and untroubled, trying todoas well as you can.

‘Read some daily portion on your knees and look up in faith. He “feedeth the young ravens that call upon Him.”

To one who wrote that she found the character of the county in which her school was placed ‘detestable.’

‘I am most sorry about your finding the —— character “detestable.” If you have seemed called to work there, you must be intended to love them, to see what is good in them first, then what needs correction. I dare say their good qualities are just complementary to yours, just what you want.‘How does your Bishop feel about the flock over which the Great Shepherd has made him overseer? and how does the Great Shepherd Himself feel towards our detestable characters?

‘How does your Bishop feel about the flock over which the Great Shepherd has made him overseer? and how does the Great Shepherd Himself feel towards our detestable characters?

Many letters to young teachers dealt with the care of health, which was always impressed as a sacred duty upon girls and teachers alike. Body and mind should be kept fit for duty. Hence social engagements which would make it imperative to sit up late at night should be cut off as far as possible. Holidays should be spent in such a way as to gain complete freshness and rest and where there was no risk of infection, not even of taking cold.

Here is one to Miss Arnold:—

‘I am so vexed to hear about this chronic headache. Remember it is one of your duties to God, Who has given you work, to keep yourself fit, so you must use every means. I dare say a tonicwoulddo you good.‘Take warning too by —— and do not put too great a spiritual strain upon your soul; the body is to have rest and not too great excitement. There have been times of weakness when I have not dared to let myself feel,—not at church or I should have broken down. You are not as weak as that, I hope. I believe you ought to do less in the holidays.’

‘Take warning too by —— and do not put too great a spiritual strain upon your soul; the body is to have rest and not too great excitement. There have been times of weakness when I have not dared to let myself feel,—not at church or I should have broken down. You are not as weak as that, I hope. I believe you ought to do less in the holidays.’

Again, a month later she wrote:—

‘But I often think that you drive yourpoorbody too hard; if we do that, we have to carry “the ass” instead of the ass carrying us, and then we break down under the burden.’

Here is a letter to another head-mistress:—

‘I do wish you would take a real rest and holiday. I feel sure it would be more economical in the end. You have led two lives, and for awhile I want you to lead none, go to sleep.... Those whom you have inspired will carry on your work, and then I hope you will come back with fresh energy to take up not all, but a part of the work you have done.’

Miss Beale could also enter into the feelings of exhaustion and depression which follow some special trial connected with work. But the sympathy she showedwas ever bracing, as may be seen in the following extracts from letters:—

‘I feel anxious about you, but don’t know what can be done, and think that the school must suffer if you let these private troubles occupy your field of vision.’

‘I am grieved that you are feeling so exhausted. If your post is clearly at Truro, if you have no call to leave it, then you must brace yourself again, and the workwillbe done all right, whether in joy or sorrow. If God has given it you, He will give the strength to do it. We are inclined to lie like the impotent man thinking “I can’t.” Directly we hear Christ’s voice—we can! but it may be this body which you starved and ill-treated and worked so hard—“the ass,” as St. Francis, I think, called it, has been overdriven.’

There were many teachers who heard from Miss Beale just at the moment when they seemed to need help. A few words of encouragement would come at such times as the beginning of new work. To one she wrote always for the opening day of the term. Two such letters follow:—

‘January 18, 1897.‘I am thinking of you on this your opening day, and this text seemed given me for you. “Be strong, and He shall comfort (strengthen,i.e.) thine heart, and put thou thy trust in the Lord.”‘Try, my child, to live more this year for your children, and to enter, as you are doing, more into the thought that to save our lives we must lose them.’

‘January 18, 1897.

‘I am thinking of you on this your opening day, and this text seemed given me for you. “Be strong, and He shall comfort (strengthen,i.e.) thine heart, and put thou thy trust in the Lord.”

‘Try, my child, to live more this year for your children, and to enter, as you are doing, more into the thought that to save our lives we must lose them.’

‘September 18, 1899.‘I have been thinking about you, and supposed you would begin to-morrow.‘What a glorious Epistle for this week. May you be strengthened with might by the Spirit, and be filled with all the fulness of God. His power does work in it, above all that we ask or think.‘The prayer in “Great Souls” speaks specially of those worn down by sickness. I am sorry you feel weak, but the heat has tried every one, and I think you will revive when your children gather round you.‘Perhaps this sort of class will be better for you, and I think you are suited for it, because you are sympathetic, and will encourage those who feel themselves backward or not clever, to use the powers they have, to do what they can. May our Lord bless and comfort and guide you, my dear child.’

‘September 18, 1899.

‘I have been thinking about you, and supposed you would begin to-morrow.

‘What a glorious Epistle for this week. May you be strengthened with might by the Spirit, and be filled with all the fulness of God. His power does work in it, above all that we ask or think.

‘The prayer in “Great Souls” speaks specially of those worn down by sickness. I am sorry you feel weak, but the heat has tried every one, and I think you will revive when your children gather round you.

‘Perhaps this sort of class will be better for you, and I think you are suited for it, because you are sympathetic, and will encourage those who feel themselves backward or not clever, to use the powers they have, to do what they can. May our Lord bless and comfort and guide you, my dear child.’

The College was not an easy place to leave. Miss Beale was proud of the number of head-mistresses she sent out, but she grudged parting with her best teachers. And there were many who, like Miss Belcher,[76]sacrificed their own interests to that of the College.

The following is a characteristic letter on the subject:—

‘February 1894.‘Miss Wolseley Lewis, who has been here nineteen years as pupil and teacher, who is B.A., gold medallist, all round, a charming character, good churchwoman, excellent influence, has come to ask me for a testimonial! I wish I could write she is horrid!‘I am losing Miss Edmonds, another gold medallist, and so good all round, because she wants to be M.D. and missionary. I think it is cruel to take people at this time of year. Is there any chance of Canon Holland waiting?’

‘February 1894.

‘Miss Wolseley Lewis, who has been here nineteen years as pupil and teacher, who is B.A., gold medallist, all round, a charming character, good churchwoman, excellent influence, has come to ask me for a testimonial! I wish I could write she is horrid!

‘I am losing Miss Edmonds, another gold medallist, and so good all round, because she wants to be M.D. and missionary. I think it is cruel to take people at this time of year. Is there any chance of Canon Holland waiting?’

But when Miss Wolseley Lewis went to Graham Street, she wrote to her:—

‘You have been much in my thoughts this last Sunday. The sorrow of this year[77]seems to have drawn us nearer, and it is hard to part with you; but I feel you have been called to this work, and I am in the depths of my heart glad. May you in some degree realise the life of the ideal woman, through the indwelling of the Holy Ghost.’

‘I have known her,’ wrote a head-mistress after the death of Miss Beale, ‘for thirty-six years now, and she has been the truest and most valued of friends to me. How we who are head-mistresses of smaller schools will miss her advice and help it is difficult to express.’

And Miss Beale could be most generous in partingwith her best even in obedience to the claims of ordinary life, claims which she did not find it easy always to recognise. The following letter gives an example of this:—

‘There can be only one answer under the circumstances,—you feel you could not return, and I should feel as you do in your place. It is a great blow to me, for we have learned to feel such trust in one another, and one cannot trust these young teachers to every one.... I shall miss from my staff one whom I had learned to regard as a dear and faithful friend and fellow-worker.’

Many more extracts might be made from Miss Beale’s letters to show her care for teachers and her supreme interest in all that concerned their welfare, but in many cases they suffer by separation from their context. Therefore, from the large mass of correspondence left, a certain number of letters dealing with various subjects have been selected to form a chapter by themselves.

‘All the great mystics have been energetic and influential, and their business capacity is specially noted in a curiously large number of cases.’Inge,Bampton Lectures, Preface vii.

‘All the great mystics have been energetic and influential, and their business capacity is specially noted in a curiously large number of cases.’

Inge,Bampton Lectures, Preface vii.

One outcome of Miss Beale’s time of personal spiritual distress, one which bore directly on what she considered as St. Hilda’s work, was an arrangement made for the first time in 1884 for devotional meetings for teachers at the end of the summer term. After 1885, when a second gathering took place, they were held alternately with the biennial Guild meetings. Like much of Miss Beale’s work, these Quiet Days, as they were called, resulted rather from a definite idea than from a formal plan. Their arrangement and character appear to have been due to the occurrence of certain conditions and circumstances while Miss Beale was forming a decision to help others who might be suffering as she herself had done. Plans for this help began to pass through her mind as early as the summer of 1882, while she was herself, as she would have expressed it, ‘in the fire.’ In July 1882 she wrote to a friend:—

‘July 25, 1882.‘What occurred to me was this—that something of a more definite Retreat might be held for teachers during the vacation. Mr. Wilkinson had at Christmas some Quiet Days which werevery valuable and helpful. Still these were not quite like a regular Retreat:—because very few who went were able to be really quiet in London lodgings, and so could not get the absolute silence and repose which make a Retreat valuable.... Most of the regular Retreats are too general to give teachers thespecialhelp, and many are so distinctly High Church, that one could not venture to recommend young teachers to go.... Ican’taccept the decision “nothing can be done”; theories of distress which reach me as the old light seems to go out, and the dark waves close in, are too distressing. We cannot administer “a universal pill”; but we can to some extent support and comfort those who are passing through the darkness; one can out of one’s own experience tell them that the stars will shine out once more; one can teach some few simple lessons of faith and patience and hope; one can show that there area priorianda posteriorigrounds for the faith we hold,—though mysteries unfathomable remain in every department of thought; and in such a meeting, personal help and advice might be given to meet special individual difficulties. It is here that the Christian Evidence Society fails. Teachers have not time formuchreading and there are masses of books, many of them containing very little matter and plenty of words and arguments, which are useless for our special difficulties. Of course Retreats are not simply for such intellectual treatment of doubts, and one would look for a quickening of faith by the special services and united prayers. So I thought it might seem good to hold some sort of Retreat in Oxford next year.’

‘July 25, 1882.

‘What occurred to me was this—that something of a more definite Retreat might be held for teachers during the vacation. Mr. Wilkinson had at Christmas some Quiet Days which werevery valuable and helpful. Still these were not quite like a regular Retreat:—because very few who went were able to be really quiet in London lodgings, and so could not get the absolute silence and repose which make a Retreat valuable.... Most of the regular Retreats are too general to give teachers thespecialhelp, and many are so distinctly High Church, that one could not venture to recommend young teachers to go.... Ican’taccept the decision “nothing can be done”; theories of distress which reach me as the old light seems to go out, and the dark waves close in, are too distressing. We cannot administer “a universal pill”; but we can to some extent support and comfort those who are passing through the darkness; one can out of one’s own experience tell them that the stars will shine out once more; one can teach some few simple lessons of faith and patience and hope; one can show that there area priorianda posteriorigrounds for the faith we hold,—though mysteries unfathomable remain in every department of thought; and in such a meeting, personal help and advice might be given to meet special individual difficulties. It is here that the Christian Evidence Society fails. Teachers have not time formuchreading and there are masses of books, many of them containing very little matter and plenty of words and arguments, which are useless for our special difficulties. Of course Retreats are not simply for such intellectual treatment of doubts, and one would look for a quickening of faith by the special services and united prayers. So I thought it might seem good to hold some sort of Retreat in Oxford next year.’

It was not till the beginning of 1883 while attending a Retreat in Warrington Crescent—a time to which she often recurred as of much help and strengthening—that Miss Beale was able definitely to consider what might be done. There were friends to whom she could turn, who took trouble to help her by thinking over the matter from her point of view. Among these may specially be mentioned the late Archbishop of Canterbury and Mrs. Benson, the late Bishop of St. Andrews, and Canon Body. To Mrs. Benson she wrote:—

Back to Index Next