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Title: Dorothea Beale of Cheltenham

Author: Elizabeth Raikes

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DOROTHEA
BEALE OF CHELTENHAM ***

The Project Gutenberg eBook, Dorothea Beale of Cheltenham, by
Elizabeth Raikes

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DOROTHEA BEALE
OF CHELTENHAM

Photo. J. C. Hughes
Dorothea Beale
from the portrait by J. J. Shannon.

DOROTHEA BEALE
OF CHELTENHAM
BY
ELIZABETH RAIKES

ILLUSTRATED

LONDON
ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE
AND COMPANY LTD.
1908

Edinburgh: T. and A. Constable, Printers to His Majesty

TO
‘HER CHILDREN’

PREFACE
Miss Beale left ample materials for the history of her work. Not only
were all business documents, such as minutes of council meetings,
nomination papers, examination questions carefully preserved, she kept also
all letters which could be of any interest. She went further than merely
arranging materials for a future book. In 1900 she compiled a very complete
History of the Ladies’ College. Here she traced its origin, growth, and
expansion; here, too, she named most carefully all who by earnest work and
self-denial, by industry, talent, or generous gift, had in any way contributed
to its wellbeing and influence. She was anxious that all faithful work should
be known.
But Miss Beale recognised that after her death there would be a demand
for something more. She was earnestly desirous that in any account which
might appear of herself, the work for which she lived should have the first
place. With her innate sensitiveness, she shrank from the thought of a Life.
It would not indeed be possible to write a life of Dorothea Beale which was
not also, fully and intimately, a Life of the Ladies’ College, Cheltenham.
Yet Miss Beale left some materials for the more personal side of the book—
many letters, diaries, and autobiographical fragments. One paper opens
thus:

‘In these days we all live in glass houses, and it seems
useless to say, Let nothing appear in print. The life of the
College, for which I have lived forty years, some
reminiscences of the state of things as regards education,
and some traces of the way in which the Potter has formed
the vessel for the service of the household, may perhaps be
allowed. It seems to me that the story of the inward life may
be helpful. I should relate only those things which, on
looking back over my long life, seem to have exercised a
formative influence upon my own character, and tended
under God’s Providence to fit me for the work which was
given me to do. The circumstances and ideals of my

childhood, the family influences, sometimes what seems a
chance acquaintance, or even a passing remark; these
viewed from within might have had an influence little
dreamed of at the time.’

I have endeavoured in this book to follow Miss Beale’s own suggestions,
but also to give some faint idea of what she was to the many she inspired
and taught. In her History of the Ladies’ College she left little historical fact
unmentioned: it is possible for another to show that she was the real
founder, the main builder.
Many thanks are owing to those who kindly furnished me with letters
from Miss Beale. It was difficult to select from the very large number
received, and it was with much regret that many had to be excluded, lest the
book should become unwieldy.
It remains but to add one word on my gratitude for the unfailing kindness
and generous help of those who have read this book in manuscript and
proof; to Mrs. Reynolds and Miss Bertha Synge; to Miss Helen Cunliffe
who undertook the somewhat wearisome task of deciphering the diaries,
and, lastly, to Miss Alice Andrews, whose name Miss Beale associated with
mine when she asked me to write a History of the College.
ELIZABETH RAIKES.
June 2, 1908.

CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
i. Childhood 1
ii. Queen’s College 17
iii. Casterton 36
iv. An Interval 60
v. Cheltenham 81
vi. Early History of the Ladies’ College 108
vii. A Royal Commission 134
viii. Organisation 158
ix. De Profundis 179
x. The Guild 203
xi. St. Hilda’s Work 226
xii. Teacher and Principal 254
xiii. Parerga 286
xiv. Honours 312
xv. The Last Term 349
xvi. Letters 371
Index 427

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Dorothea Beale. From the Portrait by J. J. Shannon,
A.R.A Frontispiece
Caroline Frances Cornwallis. From a Painting by to face page
Herself 4
Cambray House. From an Old Engraving ” 90
Miss Dorothea Beale, 1859 ” 108
Mr. T. Houghton Brancker ” 120
The Lower Hall, Ladies’ College, Cheltenham. A ”
Photograph by Miss Bertha Synge 216
S. Hilda’s Hall, Oxford ” 238
Ladies’ College and Garden, 1908 ” 254
The Empress Frederick at Cheltenham. From a ”
Photograph by Mr. Domenico Barnett 334
Dorothea Beale, LL.D. ” 340

CHAPTER I
CHILDHOOD
‘Wisdom goeth about seeking them that are worthy of her, and in their paths she
appeareth graciously, and in every purpose she meeteth them.
‘For her true beginning is desire of discipline; and the care for discipline is love of her;
and love of her is observance of laws.’
Wisdom of Solomon, vi. 16, 17, 18.

Dorothea Beale was born on March 21, 1831. The story of her childhood
and youth forms a good illustration of the best education that girls of the
early Victorian time could obtain. It gives also a glimpse of the fears and
hopes, the silent struggles, the disappointments of many a girl who strove to
wrest, as from a grudging Fate, the opportunity to inform and use her mind.
As far as possible this story is told autobiographically.
Miss Beale belonged to a Gloucestershire family. One ancestor, in the
early days of the manufacturing settlement in the Stroud Valley, married a
Miss Hyde, a relation of the Chancellor. She brought to her husband Hyde
Court, Chalford, where Miss Beale’s brother, Mr. Henry Beale, now resides.
Miss Beale’s own father, however, never lived there. His parents, who
married young, settled at Brownshill in Gloucestershire, and here his father
(Dorothea’s grandfather) died, leaving a widow aged only twenty-four with
three children, John, Miles, and Mary, to be brought up on very slender
means. Mrs. John Beale removed to Bath, where she remained till the boys
left school for Guy’s Hospital. Then she came to live with them in Essex,
where for a time they practised in partnership. In 1824 Miles married
Dorothea Margaret Complin, a lady of Huguenot extraction; her grandfather
had practised as a physician in Spital Square, one of the original settlements
of the French immigrants.
In 1830 the young couple with three children came to live in St. Helen’s
parish, Bishopsgate, where a year later Dorothea, their fourth child and
third daughter, was born. She was baptized in the ancient church of St.

Helen’s on June 10, 1831. ‘Awoke early. Baptism Day. Read the service,’
she wrote in her diary in 1891.
The Complins were a family of wide connections. Mrs. Beale’s aunt,
Mrs. Cornwallis, wife of the Rev. William Cornwallis, rector of Wittersham,
Kent, was an active, benevolent woman with literary tastes and occupations.
She took a great interest in her two young nieces, Elizabeth and Dorothea
Margaret Complin, who at an early age lost their own mother, her sister.
The two little girls were sent to school at Ealing, where the elder, Elizabeth,
gained many prizes or ‘Rewards of Merit,’ as school prizes were then
called. After her sister’s marriage to Mr. Miles Beale, Elizabeth Complin
lived for some time with her clever aunt and cousin, Mrs. Cornwallis and
her daughter Caroline, sharing their interests and studies. On the death of
her brother’s wife she came to live in London. There she was brought into
immediate touch with her nieces, Dorothea Beale and her sisters, whom she
delighted to help and advise in their reading, and who by her means became
familiar with the aims and ideals of the Cornwallises. These more distant
relations, whose intellectual aims and work Miss Beale always reckoned
among the influences of her early life, were themselves authors of no mean
merit. ‘Mrs. Cornwallis wrote several devotional books, and is said to have
learned Hebrew in the first instance to teach her grandson, James Trimmer.
She wrote also for him a series of papers on the canonical Scriptures, in
four volumes. This was published by subscription, as was the custom with
expensive works in those days. The Queen and a number of great people
entered their names, and with the profits Mrs. Cornwallis was able to build
schools in her husband’s parish.’[1]
James Trimmer died when only twelve. His other grandmother was also
literary—Mrs. Sarah Trimmer, famous in her own day as the author of
nearly thirty volumes for the young. Her Sacred History was the most
important of these, but perhaps the best known now is The History of the
Robins.

‘One story of his childhood,’ runs the autobiography, ‘was
a great favourite with us as children. His uncle had settled to
sell a pony of which James was very fond, and many were
the tears he shed. His grandmother (Mrs. Cornwallis) said,
“I think, James, that this life is a journey upwards; each time

we do right, or bear a sorrow patiently, we get up one step of
the ladder to Heaven.” So he dried his eyes and was quite
cheerful once more. Meanwhile, his uncle, seeing the boy’s
sorrow, cancelled the sale, and brought news to James that
the pony was his once more. Again to his surprise, James
burst into tears, and at length it was drawn from him that he
feared now he would have to come down from that step of
the ladder. He was finally consoled by some such doctrine as
Browning has commended in the words, “’Tis not what man
does that exalts him, but what man would do.” All her pupils
were not as responsive as James. Once, after expending her
eloquence on a plough-boy whom she was preparing for
confirmation, she said: “Now, are you not glad that you have
a soul?” to which she could only get the reply, “I don’t care
very little about it....”
‘Mr. Cornwallis was a scholar; he was a descendant of
Archbishop Cornwallis. I do not know any details of his
College career; but he taught his only unmarried daughter
Latin and Greek classics, and she gained such a rare facility
in understanding that he used to read the classics aloud to
her, and expect her to follow. He was a friend of Sismondi,
from whom Miss Cornwallis received an offer of marriage,
which she declined on the ground of great disparity of age.
Sismondi lent her afterwards his villa at Pisa, and my aunt,
her great friend, accompanied her there. A journey to Italy
for two ladies was a great undertaking, and many interesting
reminiscences used we to hear from my aunt. She there
acquired a good knowledge of Italian, by which we
benefited later.’[2]

In after years Miss Caroline Cornwallis moved to Maidstone, where she
exercised her many talents and versatile mind in varied occupations. Miss
Cornwallis not only studied Greek, Latin, and Hebrew, but such questions
of the day as criminal procedure; she also read philosophy. She wrote
besides articles for the Westminster Review and Fraser’s Magazine, several
books in a series entitled ‘Small Books on Great Subjects—edited by a few

well-wishers to knowledge.’ The first was Philosophical Theories and
Experience of a Pariah. She said women were regarded as pariahs, and
were it known that the book was written by a woman it would not be read.
[3]
Others of the series which she wrote were some volumes entitled A Brief
View of Greek Philosophy, and some historical works, The State of the
World before the Introduction of Christianity. She also wrote a classical
novel called Pericles and Aspasia. Miss Cornwallis rejoiced in the fact that
as a woman, though unknown, she obtained for her writings the praise of
‘big-wigs.’

‘“I long,” she wrote to a friend after one of her works had
received flattering notices in the British Medical Journal,
“to knock all the big-wigs together and say it was a woman
that did all this—a woman that laughed at you all and
despised your praise. And if, like Caligula’s wish, I could
put all mankind into one and leave you to say that in its ears
when I am gone quietly to my grave, I think it would be
glorious. It is as a woman, and not as the individual C.F.C.,
that I enjoy my triumph; for, as regards my own proper self,
I like to creep in a corner and be quiet; but to raise my whole
sex and with it the world is an object worth fagging for.
Heart and hand to the work.”’

Caroline Frances Cornwallis
From a painting by herself

Miss Cornwallis reflects the thought of her day with regard to women’s
work. It was one of the tasks of her cousin, Dorothea Beale—whose
‘fagging’ in the next generation did so much for her own sex and the world
—to show that the best work is done when the question of what will be said
about it does not affect it one way or the other.[4]
The authorship of the Small Books was a well-kept secret.

‘We did not know who wrote the books till after her death,
though my aunt, who gave them to us, often stayed with her
as her amanuensis. Miss Cornwallis was a skilled
handworker, too. Before the Society for Home Arts existed
she learned to bind books for her library. She was no mean
artist, and her portrait of herself in her library is considered
very successful. I have heard how she fitted up a marionette
theatre for the amusement of friends. I did not know her
personally; she died when I was young; but the talk of her
ability and knowledge, and the association with my aunt,
Elizabeth Complin, who was her friend, had much to do
with calling out my literary ambition.’[5]

The Beales were a very large family, with more than twenty years
between the eldest and youngest children; and all those things which make
home life at once precious in itself and valuable as a training for the world’s
work were theirs to a full extent: mutual love and toil and suffering, the
elder serving the younger, the little ones looking up to the wise elder sisters,
the constant practice of all those qualities which are the law of a well-
ordered religious home. Both parents from the midst of their own absorbing
personal occupations found time to lead out the mental abilities of their
children, by reading aloud to them, giving verses of Scripture and poetry to
be learned by heart, and finding time to hear them repeated. The home
atmosphere was serious and intellectual. Dorothea said she owed much to
the literary tastes of her parents. ‘I shall never forget,’ she said, ‘how we
learned to love Shakspere, through my father’s reading to us, when we were
quite young, selected portions. I still remember the terror which, as a very
small child, I felt as I heard Portia pronounce the verdict. I thought Shylock
had really gained the day.[6]
‘History and general literature we would read with our mother, and listen
with delight to her stories of the eventful era she had lived through.’
Miles Beale, like his wife, belonged to a family with cultivated tastes and
interests. Among his relations he could reckon the eminent geologist and
archæologist, William Symonds,[7] rector of Pendock, Gloucestershire,
whose daughter married Sir Joseph Hooker. In connection with his friend
the Rev. Charles Mackenzie, vicar of St. Helen’s, and others, Mr. Beale

joined a committee known as the Literary Society, of which he became
honorary secretary, for the institution of lectures in Crosby Hall. A library
and evening classes were also formed, and these became in time the basis of
the present City of London College for young men. He was much helped by
Miss Maria Hackett, well known for her diligent efforts to rescue old
endowments which, granted for girls’ education, had been alienated to boys.
Mr. Beale, who was fond of music, was also a prime mover in getting up
concerts of sacred music. ‘This made us acquainted with some musicians,
and amongst others with Mrs. Bartholomew and her husband, the friend of
Mendelssohn, who translated many of the German songs. He was a most
interesting and cultivated man, an artist and dramatist.’[8]
The growing children were often allowed to be present when their
father’s friends came, and thus silently heard much thoughtful and
intellectual conversation. They looked up to him as to one who expected
them to care for books and for matters of public moment, and he strove to
interest them in his own pursuits and reading, and to give them a taste for
what was really good. ‘“Blessed are the pure in heart”—poor Swift,’ he said
one day as he handled a volume of the great satirist. ‘That,’ said Dorothea
long after, ‘was the best literature lesson I ever received.’ The daughter
must have resembled her father both in literary taste and zeal. This busy
man, who found time to pursue so many interests, would accuse himself of
being ‘naturally idle.’ It may come as a surprise to many who knew the
strenuous life at Cheltenham to find this was a fault of which the Principal
constantly accused herself.
One friend who was much with the Beales, often dining with them on
Sundays, was Charles Mackenzie, then headmaster of St. Olave’s Grammar
School, and successively vicar of St. Helen’s, Bishopsgate, and St. Benet’s,
Gracechurch Street, and prebendary of St. Paul’s. Dorothea felt she owed
much to his teaching; he prepared her for confirmation in 1847. As children
she and her brothers and sisters attended St. Helen’s. Again to quote her
autobiography:

‘To come to the nearer influences of my childhood. There
was the faith of my parents, the morning and evening prayer.
There was the Bible picture-book and the Sunday lessons.
The church we went to was an old one, St. Helen’s, and at

the entrance were the words, “This is none other than the
House of God, and this is the Gate of Heaven.” There were
high pews, and the service was almost a duet between
clergyman and clerk, yet I realised, even more than I ever
have in the most beautiful cathedral and perfect services,
that the Lord was in that place, even as Jacob realised in the
desert what he had failed to find at home. There was over
the East window an oval coat of arms with strange scrolls
which seemed to have eyes, and reclining on each side two
life-sized golden angels. This thing seemed to speak
strangely to my spiritual consciousness. Our clergyman must
have read well. I remember how, as the story of the
Crucifixion was read, the church would grow dark, as it
seemed. There were no hymn-books, only a few hymns
pasted on a card, and generally we sang from Tate and
Brady. I know nothing of the substance of the sermons now,
but I remember the emotion they often called forth, and how
I with difficulty restrained my tears. There was a Tuesday
evening service, at which I suppose there were never a
dozen present, but I found there great help, and to be obliged
to go elsewhere on that night was a great privation. The
hymns were a great power in my life. I remember the joy
with which I would sing, in my own room, Ken’s Evening
Hymn, and the awful joy of the Trinity hymn, “Holy, holy,
holy.”
‘The books that we read most on Sunday—for no secular
book was allowed—were Mant’s Bible with pictures, which
were explained by my mother, and a book of Martyrs with
dreadful pictures; Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress, with the
outline drawings, and a number of tracts, such as Parley the
Porter, and stories of good and bad children.
‘An aunt, my godmother, lived with us, and was often my
friend in my childish troubles. I shall not speak much of the
governesses we had in succession, because they left but little
impression on my inner life, nor need I speak of all my
brothers and sisters, except so far as they come into my

inner life. The strongest influence was that of my sister
Eliza. We were constantly together. She had a very lively
imagination, and on most nights would tell me stories that
she had invented. Early in the mornings she would transform
our bedroom into some wild magic scene, and we would
play at Alexander the Great, and ride Pegasus on the foot of
our four-post bedstead. I remember now how Mangnall
furnished her with mental pictures of heathen gods, which
were cut out in paper and painted. London children had no
outdoor games.’[9]

The elder daughters were at first educated by daily governesses.
Dorothea said that among her earliest reminiscences about 1840 were those
relating to the choice of a governess.

‘My mother advertised and hundreds of answers were
sent. She began by eliminating all those in which bad
spelling occurred (a proceeding which as a spelling reformer
I must now condemn), next the wording and composition
were criticised, and lastly a few of the writers were
interviewed and a selection was made. But alas! an
inspection of our exercise-books revealed so many
uncorrected faults, that a dismissal followed, and another
search resulted in the same way. I can remember only one
really clever and competent teacher; she had been educated
in a good French school and grounded us well in the
language.’[10]

Memory preserves the name—Miss Wright—of the lady who earned this
word of praise. When she left, the girls were sent to school.

‘It was a school,’ again to quote Miss Beale’s own
account of her education, ‘considered much above the
average for sound instruction; our mistresses were women
who had read and thought; they had taken pains to arrange
various schemes of knowledge; yet what miserable teaching

we had in many subjects; history was learned by committing
to memory little manuals; rules of arithmetic were taught,
but the principles were never explained. Instead of reading
and learning the masterpieces of literature, we repeated
week by week the Lamentations of King Hezekiah, the
pretty but somewhat weak “Mother’s Picture” of Cowper,
and worse doggrel verses on the solar system.’[11]

The arrangements were doubtless similar to those of the period in all
schools of the same kind, such as were described by Miss Beale in one of
her early articles on the Education of Girls.

‘I know one school,’ she wrote, ‘existing to the end of the
first half of the nineteenth century, in which the terms were
not less than £100 a year. The following was the
arrangement of hours: Rise at seven o’clock ... Lessons till
eight; breakfast, consisting of bread and butter, with
extremely weak coffee; lessons till twelve, luncheon,
consisting of bread and butter, or bread and jam, and “turns”
till one o’clock. These “turns” consisted in going thirty times
post haste round and round the garden; they could scarcely
be accomplished unless the luncheon were carried round in
the hand and eaten en route. Lessons from one o’clock until
three forty-five. Dinner four o’clock, and “turns” in fine
weather immediately following, as after luncheon. Lessons
until eight, then tea, and bed at nine.’[12]

The school was at Stratford, and it lent perhaps a personal reminiscence
to a favourite line of Chaucer’s Prologue, on which, in the literature lessons
at Cheltenham, Miss Beale never failed to dwell.

‘After the scole of Stratford atte Bowe,
For Frensch of Parys was to hire unknowe.’

She always had a horror of schoolgirl French, and the practice at one time
so common of permitting no talk except in French.

‘Our thinking power was hindered from developing by
intercourse with one another, because we were required to
speak in a tongue in which we could indeed talk, but in
which conversation was impossible; and the language we
spoke was one peculiar to English boarding schools.’[13]

Young as Dorothea was when she went to school, she was no doubt
distinguished there for her industry and ability, and certainly for her
conscientiousness. A little story of this remains. On one occasion she
fainted in church, and when some kindly hand removed her bonnet, she
revived, and clung to it desperately, because she would not have her head
uncovered in church. The weary rounds in the garden lingered in the
memory of those who performed them, and there were those who would tell
in after years how faithfully the little Dorothea would perform her ‘turns,’
while some girls were not above cheating a little.
The school-days were not prolonged, for ‘fortunately,’ she says,—

‘Ill-health compelled me to leave at thirteen, and then
began a valuable time of education under the direction of
myself, during which I expended a great deal of energy in
useless directions, but gained more than I should have
probably done at any existing school; dreaming much, and
seeking for a fuller realisation of the great spiritual realities,
which make one feel that all knowledge is sacred. We had
access to two large libraries; one that of the London
Institution, the other that of Crosby Hall; besides which the
Medical Book Club circulated many books of general
interest, which were read by all and talked over at meal-
times and in the evening, when my father used often to read
aloud to us. Novels rarely came our way, but we found
pasturage enough. We read a great deal of history: the works
of Froissart, Thierry, Thiers, Alison, Miller’s Philosophy of

History, Sir James Stephen’s books, Prescott’s, Creasy’s
stand out very distinctly to memory.’[14]

The reading of a book named Scientific Dialogues she counted also as an
era in her mental history. All the good reviews of the time, the Edinburgh,
Quarterly, and Blackwood’s Magazine, came in her way, with books of
travel and biographies. She made elaborate tables on all sorts of subjects,
some of which in neat handwriting may still be seen. She had access to all
Whately’s works, and worked up alone his Logic and Rhetoric.
This unwearied study was no accumulation of knowledge for its own
sake, it was the outcome of a true if youthful admiration for what was noble
and good. ‘I worshipped for years Isabella of Castile. Sir James Stephen’s
essay on George the Third filled my imagination with magnificent visions;
his Port Royalists were my ideal characters; especially was Pascal a hero, I
read and re-read his Life and Provincial Letters.’[15]
Pascal’s life perhaps breathed for her a spirit of emulation. ‘I borrowed a
Euclid, and without any help read the first six books, carefully working
through the whole of the fifth, as I did not know what was usually done. It
did not occur to me to ask my father for lessons in such subjects.’[16] She
also made some way with algebra, and calculated for herself the distance to
the moon. Much time, she owned, was wasted by working alone. But the
very difficulties proved a source of help, showing her the value of
knowledge acquired by effort and search, as opposed to mere information
received from another. In all her reading she received both help and
sympathy from her aunt, Elizabeth Complin, who herself understood Latin,
Greek, and Hebrew, had considerable taste for mathematics, and was fond
of philosophy. She was one of the first subscribers to Mudie’s. The London
Library was also a mine of wealth to the young readers.
Outside her home, the chief educational influence for Dorothea at this
period must have been the lectures of the Literary Institution at Crosby
Hall, and more especially the Gresham Lectures. She attended some of
these in company with a younger sister, who often grew weary and hungry
when Dorothea, after a long morning’s work, would stay to talk abstrusely
with a professor, or linger over a bookstall on the way home to dinner. The
professor was probably Mr. Pullen, of whose lectures on astronomy she

wrote that they ‘inspired a passionate desire to know more of mathematics,
and to understand all the processes described. I obtained books on
mechanics and spelt them out as well as I was able, but was often baffled.
The mysteries of the Calculus I pored over in vain ... not knowing that I
lacked the knowledge which alone could make it intelligible.’[17]
Dorothea’s educational fortune proved itself to be better than that of the
Prioress, for in 1847 she was sent with two elder sisters, their characters
‘ripe for observation,’ to Mrs. Bray’s fashionable school for English girls in
the Champs Elysées. This school, kept by English ladies, was supposed to
offer a good English education, as well as French.

‘Imagine our disgust,’ writes Miss Beale, ‘at being
required to read English history in Mrs. Trimmer, to learn by
heart all Murray’s grammar, to learn even lists of
prepositions by heart, in order that we might parse without
the trouble of thinking. I learned them with such anger that
the list was burnt into my brain, and I can say it now. The
“Use of the Globes,” too, we were taught, and very
impertinent was I thought for asking a reason for some of
the tricks we were made to play with a globe under the
direction of Keith. We used indeed to read collectively
Robertson’s Charles the Fifth, i.e. it was read aloud on
dancing evenings. Each class went out in succession for the
dancing lesson; thus no one read the whole book, though the
school in its corporate capacity did. I felt oppressed with the
routine life; I, who had been able to moon, grub, alone for
hours, to live in a world of dreams and thoughts of my own,
was now put into a cage and had to walk round and round
like a squirrel. I felt thought was killed. Still, I know now
that the time was well spent. The mechanical order, the
system of the French school was worth seeing, worth living
in, only not for long.’[18]

One personal glimpse we have of the sisters at school in a letter of Mr.
Beale’s to Dorothea: ‘I thought your last letter very nicely written; tell Eliza
so, though it did not apply to hers. She does not write much, though in the

right spirit too: but a genteel hand is of great importance. I am aware it
requires much practice.’
The old-fashioned word exactly describes the neat, fine, pointed
handwriting, which is preserved for us in two or three French exercise-
books of the time. This writing soon after began to suffer from too much of
the German character, and later still more from unduly ambitious haste.
There is also in existence a thin book of dictées signed Dorothée, belonging
to this period. The teacher has written at the foot of one or two of these,
after the enumeration of a few omitted commas and accents, a word surely
inapt as bestowed on this pupil, ‘Etourdie.’
The school was brought to an untimely end by the Revolution of 1848,
when a mob surrounded the house demanding garden-tools as firearms.
These were not available, but Miss Bray faced the men and persuaded them
to leave quietly. Before this incident occurred Dorothea Beale and her
sisters had been fetched home by a brother, who did not, however, leave
Paris without taking them round the city to see as much as they could of the
movements of the Revolution.
This return from school may be considered the close of childhood; for
Dorothea was now seventeen. A grave and quiet girl, so we learn from one
or two friends of her youth, with a sweet, earnest expression, and deliberate
speech; also with a sunshiny smile and a merry laugh on occasion. She was
remarkable even in a studious, sedentary family for her love of reading and
study. For her the fields of literature had taken the place of those other
fields and gardens now held to be a necessity for the best development of
children’s bodies and minds. But her life in the less favourable surroundings
of a great city was made bright by ‘the light that never was on sea or land,
the consecration and the poet’s dream.’ The joys of imagination and fancy,
the delight of entering into the thoughts of the great, were hers, and lifted
her above what was small and trivial. She knew also, and from babyhood
seems to have known, a stern side of life. An innate sense of duty, that
guide she never failed to observe, already hedged her steps, protecting her
strong, eager spirit from flights of ‘unchartered freedom,’ leading it through
restraint and self-denial towards a glorious liberty.
There was plenty to do at home; younger sisters to be taught and
schoolboys’ lessons to be superintended. The boys were at Merchant

Taylors’ School, where the education was neither better nor worse than in
other public schools of the day. Such as it was, it gave Dorothea a horror of
the old-fashioned methods by which boys were taught Latin and Euclid,
without intelligence and without sympathy. It was one of her tasks at this
time to aid in the daily grind of this uninteresting work. Mrs. Frederick
Sewell, an old friend of the family, remembers the boys going off to their
lessons under the supervision of the clever elder sister. Uncongenial as must
have been to her the work of directing boys already wearied with a long day
at school, it was evidently done in a spirit of dutifulness and high
endeavour. In 1876, a brother, the Reverend Edward Beale of the Society of
St. John the Evangelist, Cowley, wrote to her after what proved to be a final
parting: ‘Our lives seem wonderfully linked together, and I am more
conscious every year how much my life has been influenced by your early
teaching. If I had followed that way of Duty I should have found the
entrance less rugged to the more excellent way.’ Nor was the task a wasted
one for Dorothea herself. She determined, she tells us, to follow her
brothers’ lessons on her own account as well as theirs, and thus was enabled
to gain a thorough knowledge of Latin grammar.
The younger sisters remember the careful and regular teaching given
them by the elder ones, the quiet instructive games they were encouraged to
play with little pictures from Greek mythology, and the rewards bestowed
on industrious pupils. It is on record that Dorothea herself dressed a doll for
a little sister’s birthday.
For she was by no means unequal to feminine pursuits. She could be
what is called useful at home; the inevitable sock-darning which falls to a
girl’s portion in a family of many boys was not neglected; though carried on
simultaneously with the mental exercise of learning German verbs. An
exquisitely fine piece of tatting remains to testify to skilfulness of fingers,
as well as to the perseverance she more gladly devoted to intellectual
efforts. Such was the interleaved New Testament, a monument of patient
toil, into which she copied in very small writing whole passages of
comment from the Fathers and other writers. So full of work was the home
life that there can have been scarcely any leisure; but a few so-called
holidays were spent in rubbing brasses in the ancient city churches. There
was full occupation even for the strenuous spirit of Dorothea Beale, in the

interests and affairs of home, but a wider field for her energies was to open
with the gates of Queen’s College in 1848.

CHAPTER II
QUEEN’S COLLEGE

‘Long shall the College live and grow,
When we three sleep in peace,
And scholars better far than we
Its glory shall increase.’

Eliza Beale on the Jubilee of Queen’s College.

Mr. Llewelyn Davis rightly said that the establishment of Queen’s
College was an epoch in women’s education. Like that of all really great
institutions, its development and growth were an outcome of the needs of
the time. But the movement which led up to it was ‘not from beneath but
from above. It was compassion in the hearts of a few good men which
moved them to help a forlorn class of solitary and ill-paid workers, that
seemed the immediate cause. A little band of men full of faith and good
works came to the help of a man whose influence was quiet but strong.’ The
good man of whom Miss Beale thus spoke was David Laing, who was vicar
of Holy Trinity Church, Kentish Town, from 1847 to 1858. Good he was, in
many senses of the word: a man of education, wide culture, and personal
force. He showed both large-hearted charity and wisdom in dealing with the
needs of those for whom it was his duty to care, and he was ready to make
any self-sacrifice required in carrying out his schemes for them.
In 1843 he became Honorary Secretary of the Governesses’ Benevolent
Institution, a position he occupied till his death in 1860, and the lamentable
state of women’s education, particularly that of professing teachers, was
brought forcibly before him. The society, which had had a kind of passive
existence only for two or three years, began at once under Mr. Laing to
develop manifold activities. Within a year the work of help for which it was
primarily intended was in full swing, and its scope of usefulness was
enlarged by the establishment of a registry and a scheme for granting
diplomas to governesses.

It was soon found to be a real difficulty to know the efficient teacher
from the mere pretender. For the lack of education is frequently seen in an
assumption of knowledge. In the days when women were required to teach
everything, a confession of ignorance on almost any subject was regarded
as a disgrace. The advance of true education is marked by the fact that it is
no longer necessary for a governess to pretend to knowledge she does not
possess.
It was soon seen that if the registry for teachers was to be of any value,
some test must be established for the women it undertook to recommend.
The first efforts at examination revealed such depths of ignorance, that the
further necessity of instructing those who wished to avail themselves of the
society’s diplomas was perceived. This need happily coalesced with the
generous plan of Miss Murray, Maid of Honour to the Queen. She seems
first to have thought of a college for women, and had already received
donations of money towards such an object. These she transferred to Mr.
Laing, when in 1844 he entered into communication with the Government
respecting the establishment of a college. In 1847 Queen Victoria
graciously gave her permission for the adoption of the title ‘Queen’s
College,’ and a house in Harley Street, adjacent to that occupied by the
Governesses’ Benevolent Institution was taken. Mr. Laing then called upon
some of the Professors of King’s College to help him in the work by giving
lectures to governesses and others, and it was largely owing to their talent
and unwearied kindness that the College became rapidly so successful.
It should not, however, be thought that Queen’s College was destined by
its founders solely to help governesses, though in this direction its
usefulness was immediately seen. Miss Murray and Mr. Laing, like Alfred
Tennyson and others less immediately interested in the scheme, looked
beyond such direct results to the larger needs of women. The time had come
when it was recognised that marriage could not be the lot of all,—that there
might be purpose and interest in a woman’s life even when she could not be
married, and that to use marriage merely as an escape from an empty
impoverished existence was an act unworthy of a good woman. Women
were now willing to fit themselves for life independently of marriage, and
for this end were seeking intellectual development. Therefore the founders
of Queen’s College planned that the education should be general, and not
merely an initiation into a craft which a governess might learn as if she

were a member of a certain guild. For the governess herself, it was surely
best that she should be educated as if she had interests in common with the
rest of her sex, and for all women it was needful that they should seek
means to inform, occupy, and control their own active minds and
‘wandering affections.’ Mr. Laing thought with compassionate horror of the
wasted lives of many women, of their capabilities and sympathies which
were meant to enrich the lives of others, degraded by misuse or disuse into
positively harmful activities. After Queen’s College had been opened for
some months he wrote, in words which some will recognise as a favourite
quotation of Miss Beale’s, ‘the fate of some victim of a conventional
marriage, or of a life of celibacy ending in deranged health, is particularly
sad and pitiful. Like the daughters of Pandarus who, after being nurtured by
the goddesses and fed on honey and incense by the Graces, are snatched
away by the Harpies, “And doomed for all their loving eyes, To serve the
Furies who hate constantly.”’
Miles Beale was among those who shared such thoughts for women. It
was his aim to give his daughters every opportunity to cultivate their minds
and pursue any path of knowledge they should desire. Above all, he wished
that they should not regard marriage as a necessity.
The inaugural lecture on the opening of Queen’s College was delivered
by the Rev. F. D. Maurice, the first Head of the College, on Wednesday,
March 29, 1848. As his inspiring but stern words fell upon the ears of
Dorothea Beale, we may well believe that the sense of vocation which must
early have grown for her out of her natural dutifulness, became to her more
clearly shaped. Certainly, in reading them now, we feel we are tracing back
to its source a stream of that thought with which she herself in due time
awed and inspired many a young teacher. ‘The vocation of a teacher is an
awful one; you cannot do her real good, she will do others unspeakable
harm if she is not aware of its usefulness. Merely to supply her with
necessaries, merely to assist her in procuring them for herself ... is not
fitting her for her work. You may but confirm her in the notion that the
training of an immortal spirit may be just as lawfully undertaken in a case
of emergency as that of selling ribbands. How can you give a woman self-
respect, how can you win for her the respect of others, in whom such a
notion or any modification of it dwells? Your business is by all means to

dispossess her of it; to make her feel the greatness of her work, and yet to
show her that it can be honestly performed.’
The speaker went on to deal with the word ‘Accomplishments,’ a word
which at that time was supposed to cover the whole of a woman’s
education; and he pleaded that something more than finish, something
substantial and elementary was needed for those whose duty was ‘to watch
closely the first utterances of infancy, the first dawnings of intelligence;—
how thoughts spring into acts, how acts pass into habits. Surely they ought,
above all others, to feel that the truths which lie nearest to us are the most
wonderful ... that study is not worth much if it is not busy about the roots of
things.’
Again, with what responsive if silent joy must the girl who had toiled
alone at Euclid and Algebra have heard his encouraging words on
Mathematics, then held to be an unfeminine pursuit. ‘To regard numbers
with the kind of wonder with which a child regards them, to feel that when
we are learning the laws of number we are looking into the very laws of the
universe,—this makes the study of exceeding worth to the mind and
character; yet it does not create the least impatience of ordinary
occupations; ... on the contrary ... it helps us to know that nothing is mean
but what is false.’
The concluding thoughts of Mr. Maurice’s address must be familiar to
Cheltenham pupils: ‘The teacher in every department, if he does his duty,
will admonish his pupils that they are not to make fashion, or public
opinion, their rule ... that if these are their ends, they will not be sincere in
their work or do it well.... Colleges for men and women ... exist to testify
that opinion is not the God they ought to worship.’ We can hardly realise,
after nearly sixty years of the liberal education won for us largely through
this first concerted effort of earnest men and women, the trembling joy and
diffidence of those pupils,—some of them mere girls, some already
themselves engaged in the work of teaching,—who formed the first classes
in Harley Street. We have become so accustomed to the new order of things
then inaugurated, that their allusions to Tennyson’s Princess, their fear of
being regarded as outré seem to us almost self-conscious and unnecessary.
Professor Maurice opened his address with an apology for the word
‘College’; on another occasion he spoke of the project as ‘equally
extravagant if not equally imaginative with that lately set forth by our great

poet.’ Miss Wedgwood recalls dismay under the ‘witless laughter roused by
the mention of the College after I had been its pupil for more than a year.’
Nor was this all. A more annoying opposition took shape in articles in the
Quarterly in which the theological opinions of the lecturers were attacked.
The writer found fault in the first place on such points as these: the early
age of admission was likely to lead to desultory education; the absence of
proper framework and machinery, and the want of proper authority were to
be deplored; the low rate of payment might lead governesses availing
themselves of the classes to get by their means a smattering of knowledge.
He then proceeded to attack the professors for a ‘sort of modified
Pantheism and Latitudinarianism prevailing in their so-called theology,’
adding that the lecturer on English Composition distinguished himself
above the rest of his company by the ‘Germanisms embroidered on his
prose.’ Mr. Laing took up a vigorous pen to answer the Quarterly, and in
defence of Maurice, Kingsley, and the rest, exclaimed: ‘These men are
doing a righteous and godly work in the face of heaven and earth.’
It is a wonderful history. Remarkable, too, were the women and girls who
seized the advantages offered them, who were waiting almost literally for
the College doors to be opened. Mrs. Davenport, then Miss Sarah
Woodman, records with natural pride the fact that she was the first pupil.
She was quickly followed by Miss King, and we may be sure that the three
Miss Beales were not far behind them.
Among the earliest pupils beside those already named, were Miss Buss,
Miss Frances Martin, Miss Jex-Blake, Miss Elizabeth Gilbert, and Miss
Adelaide Anne Procter, whose simple holland dress without ornament,
bands of dark hair, pale complexion, and regular features are noted for us by
a young fellow-student, Miss Wardell. And the teachers were worthy of the
pupils. Among the lecturers and examiners were the Rev. F. D. Maurice, the
Rev. E. H. Plumptre, afterwards Dean of Wells, the translator of Dante, the
Rev. Charles Kingsley, the Rev. R. C. Trench, then Dean of Westminster,
afterwards Archbishop of Dublin, John Hullah, W. Sterndale Bennett, Dr.
Brewer the historian, Professors Bernays and Brasseur. These are well-
known names, but there were many others almost forgotten to-day, who
were interesting and inspiring teachers. There were no lady-teachers at first,
but Miss Beale enumerates with grateful words a staff of lady-visitors, ‘who
undertook, of course gratuitously, the often burdensome duty of

chaperoning. Lady Stanley of Alderley, stately and beautiful all her life, but
especially then; Mrs. Wedgwood, the daughter of Sir James Mackintosh, so
clever and kind, whom everybody liked; Miss Elizabeth Twining, Lady
Monteagle, and Lady Page Wood were often present; and a Mrs. Hayes, of
whom I have lost sight, was one of the most diligent. I never happened to
meet Lady Canning, she went to India almost immediately.’
Before tracing Miss Beale’s own connection with Queen’s, it is worth
while to read the following letters written to her by Miss Buss in 1889, in
which the working of the College, especially with regard to the evening
classes, is shown in a detailed and personal way:

January 13, 1889.
‘Queen’s College was distinctly an outcome of the
Governesses’ Benevolent Institution. It was found that
governesses living in the Home in Harley Street were often
very ignorant, and Mr. Laing, a University man himself,
asked some of the King’s College professors to give some
lectures to the ladies living in the Home, so that they might
be better informed when leaving to take a situation. The
professors responded, some lectures were given, but it soon
became evident that outsiders must be admitted to help to
pay expenses—so the College was opened in 1848....
‘Mr. Laing kept his original idea before him, and soon
induced some of the professors to give, free of charge,
courses of evening lectures to women actually engaged in
teaching. I was a member at the very outset, being the
youngest woman then attending the evening lectures. A very
able man, Mr. Clark, Principal of Battersea, gave a splendid
course of Geography lectures (of England, I think), Mr.
Cock took Arithmetic, Mr. Brewer, Latin translation—he
was a first-rate teacher. Some one else took Latin Grammar,
Mr. Laing gave Scripture. The first term I attended six nights
a week, the second, four. F. D. Maurice took Elizabethan
Literature somewhat later; Trench gave his lectures on
English from his manuscript notes, and how delightful they

were! English Past and Present, etc. I do not remember
Kingsley, I was not introduced to him until many years after.
Nicolay gave Ancient History, and was not popular....
‘Queen’s College began the Women’s Education
Movement undoubtedly, but it became conservative, and did
not grow.... There was a Rev. A. B. Strettel, who taught
grammar well, but only to the day-students, I think.
Recalling the old days in this way takes one back to one’s
youth. Queen’s College opened a new life to me, I mean
intellectually. To come in contact with the minds of such
men was indeed delightful, and it was a new experience to
me and to most of the women who were fortunate enough to
become students.... Believe me, as always, yours
affectionately and admiringly,
Frances M. Buss.’

In reply to some questions from Miss Beale in answer to the above, Miss
Buss wrote again on January 17, 1889:—

‘The day classes were of course attended by girls and
women from outside. I attended the evening classes in 1849.
Our school was opened in 1850, and then as we began with
sixty girls, and ended the first quarter with eighty, I had not
time to attend and work as I had done before. Mr. Laing
always wanted to help women teachers, and he was strong
enough to get the King’s College men to teach governesses
gratuitously in the evening, each professor only attending
one night in the week. The men had plenty of work and pay
for their day lectures. The evening classes went on for some
time, and were very well attended by women, all of whom
were teaching. Some of these women (I among them)
presented themselves for the irregularly conducted
examinations, for which certificates were offered. Each
professor did as he liked, he saw the candidate alone—at any
rate in my case it was so—told her to write answers to
questions set by him, asked a few vivâ voce questions, and

then gave a certificate. No papers were printed, therefore no
one could know what line the examiner would take. I have
three of these certificates. Later, the examination became
more formal and more valuable; a sort of standard was
created.’

Dorothea Beale was, as a matter of fact, strictly a pupil of Queen’s
College for an even shorter time than her great contemporary. But there for
the first time she obtained the object of her ambition—mathematical
training, given by Mr. Astley Cock. Of this she characteristically remarked,
‘as the class was small I could go at my own pace. The work was however
elementary, and as I had read a good deal alone, I found private lessons
necessary.... I read with him privately Trigonometry, Conics, and the
Differential Calculus.’ After a time Miss Beale was asked to help in
teaching mathematics, and in 1849 was appointed the first lady
mathematical tutor. ‘I had the entrée of any class I liked, being tutor, and
attended at various times—Latin, Greek, German, and Mental Science.’ She
speaks also of the delight she had ‘at the opening of a Greek class by
Professor Plumptre. The class, it is true, languished and died in less than
two years. For nearly a year it consisted of myself and a friend, and most
thoroughly did we enjoy reading Plato and Sophocles under such a teacher.’
Miss Beale also much enjoyed an interesting German literature class held
by Dr. Bernays.[19] The formal reports of progress made, of attendance, and
even of good conduct at the classes may still be seen. The attendance, it
goes without saying, was always regular, the conduct very good, and the
progress most satisfactory.
In 1854 Mr. Plumptre required help with the Latin tuition, and asked
Miss Beale to take a junior class. In the same year she was offered the post
of head teacher in the school under Miss Parry, from whom she says she
received ‘much kindness, and learned from her many valuable lessons; we
travelled abroad together during one long vacation.’
Queen’s College, both by the tuition it afforded, and the experience it
gave in teaching and managing classes, was an important factor in Dorothea
Beale’s training for her life’s work. There was a yet further advantage in its
certificates. Miss Beale and her sisters, like Miss Buss and others engaged
in the work of education, desired and obtained from the College diplomas

certifying their ability to teach. These were obtained by examinations,
which in the earliest days were conducted in the manner described in Miss
Buss’s letter already quoted. Miss Dorothea Beale herself spoke with
unmitigated pleasure of her first examination conducted by Professor
Maurice. ‘The vivâ voce was a delightful conversation; he led us on by his
sympathetic manner and kindly appreciation, so that we hardly remembered
he was an examiner’; and she says later, ‘I remember to this day what a
pleasant hour we had of vivâ voce; his wonderful power of intellectual
sympathy came out, and made us forget that we were being examined; he
seemed to take pleasure in following up our thoughts on the bearings of the
history we had read, so that it appeared we were holding a delightful
conversation on the subject. Again, in speaking of language, he wanted not
merely formal and conventional grammar, and showed such pleasure when
a grammatical definition was enlarged beyond the scope of ordinary school-
books.’
It should be remembered that the examination which proved to be so
‘delightful’ was on the result of her own private reading encouraged by
home sympathy, and a few public lectures. The questions asked were of
wide scope; some were quite simple, almost superficial; others were framed
so as to draw upon intelligence or a reserve of knowledge.
The educational certificates of sixty years ago, the first ever given, have a
great and touching interest for those who love to follow the development of
intellectual advance. The simple way in which the advantages offered by
the examinations held by the Committee of Queen’s College are set forth
speaks of effort and hope, unconnected with the school routine and studied
preparation made necessary by the large and complicated system of the
present day. Below the lists of Patrons, Committee, and Lady Visitors, it is
stated that the Committee is prepared to give certificates in any of the
following subjects: The knowledge of Scripture; English Grammar and
Literature; History, Ancient or Modern; French, German, Italian, Latin,
Greek, Hebrew, etc.; Music, Vocal or Instrumental; Arithmetic, Algebra,
Geometry; Geography, Geology, Natural Philosophy, Botany, etc.; Drawing,
Painting in any style; Principles and Methods of Teaching. To this truly
magnificent offer,—infinite indeed if any value is to be attributed to ‘etc.’—
is attached the note: ‘As it would be absurd to suppose that any governess
could combine all these varied subjects, the List is offered, that Parents may

select those to which they attach most importance; and may observe how
the certificates meet their wishes.’
Miss Dorothea Beale obtained six of these certificates, and four of the
later ones, granted under slightly different conditions. The first, dated June
12, 1848, for English Literature and English Grammar, states that the
examiner, Professor Maurice, is of opinion that Miss Dorothea Beale ‘has
shown much intelligence, and a very satisfactory acquaintance with these
subjects.’ The diploma bears also, as do the other certificates, the signature
of Mr. Laing, the Honorary Secretary, and of the Rev. C. F. Nicolay, Deputy
Chairman, and afterwards called Dean of Queen’s College. Mr. Nicolay was
also Librarian of King’s College. The next certificate, for French, is only
three days later in date, June 15, 1848. On this, Professor Isidore Brasseur
states that he considers Miss Dorothea Beale ‘well qualified to teach that
language (which she speaks fluently, having acquired it in France)
theoretically and by practice.’ The two diplomas gained in December of the
same year are of even greater interest for her pupils at Cheltenham. The first
of these, dated December 11, 1848, and signed by the Rev. Thomas
Jackson, Principal of the Battersea Training College, who had examined her
in the Principles and Method of Teaching, states that ‘she has paid
praiseworthy attention to the subject, and is likely to become an
accomplished teacher.’ We note the office of the examiner. Already then, in
1848, itself a mere infant, elementary education was giving the lead in this
important subject; for when at last, after a long day of desultory and often
unfruitful toil, those who were the professed teachers of the rich sought to
learn the meaning and methods of their work, they found that they could
only do so in England from the teachers of the poor.
The date of the next certificate, December 26, shows how much these
diplomas were dependent on voluntary and individual attention, and
opportunity on the part of the examiners. This, signed by Professor
Plumptre, states that in her knowledge of Holy Scripture, Miss Dorothea
Beale exhibits ‘a very intimate knowledge of its history and Scripture.’ On
January 16, of the following year, a certificate for Geography was signed by
Mr. Nicolay, who is of opinion that ‘she has studied the subject carefully in
its details, and that her knowledge in its various branches is satisfactory.’
In November 1850 Miss Beale received from her mathematical tutor, the
Rev. T. Cock, a certificate of efficiency in Arithmetic, Geometry, Algebra,

and Trigonometry. He is of opinion that ‘she has acquired a sound
knowledge of the first principles of these four subjects, showing
considerable ingenuity in the application of them to examples and
problems; that she possesses the power of defining and distinguishing with
clearness and brevity, and that appreciation of mathematical reasoning
which, if further cultivated, will enable her to study with success those
treatises on Natural Philosophy which require a knowledge of the exact
sciences.’
In 1855, after the certificates had become classified, this diploma was
exchanged for a first-class certificate. And in the course of these later years
she received two other first-class certificates, one for Latin, and one for
German; and, for pianoforte playing, a second-class certificate, signed by
W. Sterndale Bennett. For this was required the performance of the more
important sonatas of Mozart (without accompaniments), the early sonatas of
Beethoven, the ‘Lieder ohne Worte’ of Mendelssohn, and Cramer’s Studies.
This must have been for Dorothea Beale a period of happy and fruitful life
and work, during which her interests enlarged in many directions. The
connection with Queen’s College brought much congenial acquaintance,
while at home she was working vigorously at German and still following
the classical work of her brothers.
In 1851 Miss Beale’s family removed to 31 Finsbury Square, then a great
medical centre; thirty-one houses were occupied by medical men. There
were friends to share her aims and interests. Among these we specially note
Mrs. Blenkarne and Miss Elizabeth Alston. To the first of these Dorothea
confided her hopes and aims, and gained from her sympathy and help, a
boon she never forgot. The links of the friendship so begun ran on
throughout her life. Mrs. Blenkarne’s daughters and great nieces were
educated at Cheltenham.
In Elizabeth Alston Dorothea had a friend of her own age—a friend who
survives to tell of the many happy hours the young girls spent together, of
the books they read and discussed, their philanthropic works, and dreams of
good. Dorothea, always fond of teaching, gladly instructed her friends. Miss
Alston learned from her to read St. Mark in Greek, and in return taught her
to sing. ‘We would linger long at the piano, as I sought to make her convey
by her singing the depth of meaning in the words, “But the Lord is mindful
of his own.” She told me it was a revelation to her.’

As late as 1902 Miss Beale wrote to that friend of her youth: ‘I think with
gratitude of those lessons you gave me in singing; this, I believe, has helped
much to make me able to teach without fatigue. “In questa tomba oscura”
was fine for a chest voice. I suppose you are as much interested in music as
ever.’ And in 1903, with an allusion to those designs on all knowledge
which the friends had shared, she wrote: ‘Sanscrit is very fascinating; my
Sanscrit studies were cut short by my coming here.’
The vacations of this period were spent sometimes at watering-places
like Brighton, or Blackheath, where she would be in charge of the younger
members of the family. To this day is remembered her conscientious way of
taking them for a walk with her watch in her hand. Sometimes she went to
Germany or Switzerland, where she took every opportunity of studying
schools and methods of education. She was most happy in her work. The
actual teaching, apart from the subject, was in itself a delight. That power of
inspiration which she held should be one of the gifts a teacher should
earnestly covet, was already hers. This was felt not only by the elder pupils,
whose minds under her guidance opened to the interests of Latin and
mathematics. The children in the school knew it also. An unexpected tribute
from one of these once reached Miss Beale, when the parent of a pupil
wrote: ‘I have just learned from my little girl that the Lady Principal of the
Cheltenham Ladies’ College was my dear and valued teacher of olden days,
at Queen’s College.... I assure you I have never ceased to cherish a warm
affection for you, and I have never forgotten your great kindness to me in
Harley Street.’ In 1905, at the time of the College jubilee, one who had been
a child pupil of Miss Beale’s wrote to her: ‘The few months during which I
was under your tuition more than fifty years ago were an epoch to me.
Young as I was, I ever afterwards judged teaching by the standard set by
yours, and very seldom indeed, I may truly say, has it been subsequently
reached. The fifty years that have since passed, full as they have been, have
never effaced the impression then received, both of your teaching and of
something more comprehensive than teaching, which contact with you
engendered, and which impels me to take this opportunity—late in the day
as it is—to express and to thank you for.... I had a most keen desire to visit
Cheltenham and the buildings and institutions which embody in so grand a
manner the impress which my childish mind received.’

There is also ample evidence that the professors and lady-visitors of the
College highly esteemed Miss Beale’s work there. ‘The flattering regard in
which you are held at Queen’s,’ wrote her father to her just after she had left
the College, are words fully justified by other letters which exist.
It is clear that this spring of work was full of hope and delight, as well as
of scrupulous effort. Dorothea Beale possessed at this time a growing
confidence in her own powers, educational ideals which were slowly
shaping themselves, and a consciousness of her fitness for the work on
which she was engaged.
Then, at the end of 1856, the connection with Queen’s College came
rather abruptly to an end by Miss Beale’s own wish. She appears to have
been some time feeling that there was a tendency for the whole
administration of the College to get too much into the hands of one person;
and that there was consequently not enough scope for that womanly
influence which she felt to be so important where the education of young
girls is concerned. She returned to her work after the summer holiday of
1856—a holiday spent in visiting Swiss and German schools—to find the
power of the lady-visitors more restricted than ever. In fact, she said, ‘the
time had come when it could be truly said, “the lady-visitors have no
power.”’ As she was not in a position to effect the changes she desired, she
sent in her resignation, and her friend and fellow-teacher, Miss Rowley, did
the same. The actual moment for doing this in November seems to have
been decided for Miss Beale by hearing she could obtain the post of head-
teacher at Casterton.
Miss Beale’s connection with Queen’s College had been long and close,
and her gratitude to it was so great that she hoped to be allowed to resign
without explanation. This was during the headship of Dr. Plumptre. When
Miss Beale’s resignation reached him, he urged her to make the reasons for
it known, and his letter on the subject shows something of the consideration
in which she was held.

‘If there is an evil which cannot be remedied, are you
right in leaving those to whom the welfare of the College is
very dear to all the discomfort of feeling or imagining that
there is something amiss without giving them any clue to

that which, whatever it be, has been at all important enough
to lead you to resign? Are you right in exposing the College
itself to the consequence of the construction which will
inevitably be put upon your conduct—whether that
construction be true or false? I may form three or four
conjectures as to the motives that have led you to this
decision—but it is all guess work—I think the decision itself
to be deplored. We shall lose an able and earnest fellow-
worker. You will lose a position of great usefulness—you
give up a work to which you have been called and
opportunities of doing good. I believe that these lamentable
results might have been avoided, but it is too late for this;
there is at any rate time for the openness which, I think, we
have a right to look for.
‘I will not end without thanking you for your
consideration in calling to tell me what you had done, and
for all the assistance you have given me in my College
work.—I am, yours most sincerely,
E. H. Plumptre.’

Miss Beale finally gave the desired explanation with full detail and this
preface:—

‘Before consenting to answer any questions, I think it
right that we should state that when we sent in our
resignation, we naturally supposed we should be allowed to
do so without being required to give any reasons.
‘It was only after several weeks of resistance that, at the
earnest appeal of Mr. Plumptre, who placed it before us as a
moral duty, that we at last reluctantly consented to speak to
him and to the Lady Visitors. From the course we adopted, I
think you will see we are prompted [solely] ... by a desire for
the good of a College in which we feel the warmest interest.’

The defects she deplored—pioneer mistakes she called them later—were
then enumerated in detail, and she dwelt especially on the hindrance to
education caused by so much authority being left to one individual, who
could not possibly be in a position to know the abilities and standard of
work of every pupil. Much harm, she pleaded, had been done

‘by withdrawing pupils from the school, compelling them
without my consent and contrary to the wishes of their
parents to attend College classes, although they are unable to
spell correctly and are ignorant of the first principles of
grammar; classes in which you know it is impossible to give
that individual attention required by children of twelve, who,
owing to the rank from which so many of our pupils are now
derived, are singularly deficient in mental training, and
require to be obliged in extra time to do work given them; to
be trained, watched, educated by ladies (who alone can
understand, and therefore truly educate) girls. My pupils in
the school are not removed by competent professors who
understand the subjects there taught. The instruction which
is in itself good, and if given four or five years later would
be beneficial, has been rendered useless.’

On learning Miss Beale’s reasons for leaving, and that her decision was
irrevocable, Mr. Plumptre wrote: ‘I wish to state at once that I believe most
thoroughly that what you have done has been done conscientiously because
it seemed to you—painful as it was—to be in the line of duty.’ But before
this letter reached her, Dorothea had accepted another post, that of head-
teacher in the Clergy Daughters’ School at Casterton.

CHAPTER III
CASTERTON

‘O lift your natures up:
Embrace our aims.’

Tennyson, The Princess, ii.

‘It was a year full of great suffering mingled with a peace which the
world cannot give.... I look on this as one of the most profitable years of my
life, but I could not long have borne the strain of work and anxiety.’
Thus, long after, when in the distance of years the events of earlier life
could be seen in their relation to each other and to the future, Miss Beale
wrote of the year at Casterton. But she did not often speak of it. To the end
it gave her pain to go in thought over that time of loneliness and strain.
Even late in life, if she entered into conversation about it, she would turn
from the subject saying it distressed her too much; ‘some other time she
would try’ to speak of it. But, none the less, she knew she had gained much
at Casterton. She, who was ever ready to learn from mistakes, from pain,
from adverse circumstances, gratefully acknowledged her debt to all that
had shown her the real difficulties of her vocation, and her own weakness,
and which had deepened her consciousness of the only source of strength.
Some lives are led so much at haphazard, that it really hardly appears to
matter whether at any given period they have taken one direction or another.
In the lives of those who, like Dorothea Beale, are always conscious of an
over-ruling and ordering Power, every year is not only known, but seen to
have its place. The very errors, nay failures, are sunk deep into the
foundations to become supports to the House of Life which, under the
direction of the Master Builder, is rendered more stately with each added
touch of Time. Hence, this year—not a successful one, as success is
generally reckoned—has its special interest.

It was a year in which she learned much, not only about herself
individually, but of feminine human nature in general. Those matters which
she longed—and longed ineffectually at the time—to re-arrange in the
system and time-tables she found existing at Casterton, prepared her for the
organisation of the great school to which she was shortly afterwards to be
called. Daily contact with many, who were more or less out of sympathy
with her, must have been useful for one whose work was largely to be in the
direction of influence on women and girls of varying natures and opinions.
Doubtless the very loneliness of the position was bracing to her sensitive
nature. ‘Above all,’ she had written to Mr. Plumptre when she accepted it,
‘it involves leaving home.’ She had seen from the first how hard a trial this
would be to her, but strength and insight were won out of the suffering it
cost.
The manuscript account from which the opening words of this chapter
are taken, and which has been quoted before, was written many years ago.
As late as 1905 Miss Beale wrote to Canon Burton, the present vicar of
Casterton and chaplain to the school, that she felt she owed much to it, and
‘in grateful remembrance of her connection with it’ founded a scholarship
from the school to Cheltenham. The first Casterton-Beale scholar is now at
the Ladies’ College.
There were many reasons why Dorothea Beale could neither be happy
nor rightly appreciated at Casterton in 1857. She went at a difficult moment
when the school had not recovered from the relaxed discipline consequent
on the troubles of the year before. There had been a serious outbreak of
scarlet fever, the Lady Superintendent herself being one of the victims. The
head-teacher had left in September, and it was not convenient to supply her
place before the end of the half-year. The ‘School for Clergymen’s
Daughters’ is one, like many others, of which it is the reverse of
disparagement to say that its present is far above its past. And it is
permissible to think that if Miss Beale had found herself in any other large
boarding-school of the period, she would have encountered many of the
same difficulties and disappointments as those which beset her life at
Casterton. Of this school she wrote much later, describing it as she felt it to
be when she was there, that it was ‘in an unhealthy state. There was a spirit
of open irreligion and a spirit of defiance very sad to witness; but the
constant restraints, the monotonous life, the want of healthy amusements

were in a great measure answerable for this.’[20] A strange tale this to us,
who know of the walks and rambles, the games and matches enjoyed by the
girls of Casterton to-day.
But the causes of her dissatisfaction were by no means due entirely to the
school, for the engagement seems to have been entered upon on Miss
Beale’s part without a real understanding of all that it involved. Her father
hints this when he writes, ‘perhaps we were to blame in not learning more.’
She was engaged, not by the Lady Superintendent, but by a member of the
Committee, who probably did not explain matters so fully as a woman
might have done. The work was taken up in a moment of impulse, as if she
were glad of the opportunity it suggested of sending in her resignation to
Queen’s College, instead of waiting till Christmas, as she had at first
intended. Those who knew her best did not expect her to be happy in it. Mr.
Plumptre wrote: ‘I am glad to hear you have found so important a work
before you as that at Casterton. It may have altered within the last few
years, as otherwise I should not have thought its tone, religious as well as
social, likely to be congenial to you.’
She had never lived away from home for any length of time. The short
periods of school life had been shared with sisters. The north was an
unknown land with which the Beale family had no connection. She knew
nothing of country life. She would be entirely among strangers, and that
alone, for a shy and sensitive nature, is often a great trial, while boarding-
school life, such as existed at Casterton, was practically unknown to her.
The salary was smaller than what she had received at Queen’s College. But
in leaving Queen’s College she lost far more than salary. There she had
been a beloved teacher, a valued tutor whose resignation was deplored; at
Casterton she was simply a new governess. Her judgment was surely at
fault in thus hastily and almost impulsively accepting such a post. Though
she may have greeted the offer as guidance in her difficulty about leaving
Queen’s, she must have known that at Casterton it would be impossible for
her to work in accord with religious opinions which were alien to her; also
that in going so far she was cutting off much that was congenial and
delightful from her life—such as home, friends, libraries, lectures.
Though Mr. Beale obviously doubted if his daughter could be happy in
the atmosphere of Casterton, he did not fail to perceive the ideal side of the
work there. Appreciating the aims and generosity of the founders of the

school, he held that from the great advantages it offered, it ought to become
a national institution. She too went to her post there in something of a
missionary spirit. Her success with her classes, and with pupils of different
ages, justified her in feeling that she would be able to introduce fresh and
better methods, while the very fact that a teacher of her individual
experience had been chosen pointed to the belief that the authorities were
anxious to bring the school into line with the advance of women’s
education.
Casterton is a small village, near Kirby Lonsdale, in Westmoreland,
where that county touches Lancashire and Yorkshire. Even to-day railway
communication is defective, and the country thinly populated, so that the
school in its isolated position is constrained to be as self-sufficing as
possible. The beauty of its surroundings may surely be reckoned among its
advantages, for it is placed amid lovely country within sight of
Ingleborough. Members of the school speak with delight of rambles over
the surrounding fells. Perhaps Miss Beale’s habit of thinking over her
lessons out of doors began here, for she afterwards told Miss Alston of the
long lonely walks she used to take at Casterton.
This well-known school was founded in 1823 by Mr. Carus Wilson in
order to help the clergy of the Church of England, principally those of the
northern dioceses. Many of the clergy of the north were known to be
absolutely unable to provide any education for their children, who at home
led the simplest life with bare necessaries only. Several of these were
received, boarded, educated, and partially clothed free, and the terms for all
were ludicrously small. These facts should be remembered when comment
is made upon the régime at Casterton, or at Cowan Bridge, where the school
was originally placed, a position far less favourable and healthy than its
present one.
It should also be remembered that Dorothea Beale had never herself
known what it was to be poor; she could hardly realise, for instance, the
comfort that might exist in the uniform school dress for children whose
parents were actually too poor to provide them with proper clothing.
As an institution the school was destined not only to assist the poor
clergy, but, springing as it did from devoted religious effort, to save souls
and promote the highest kind of education. It was from the first definitely

associated with those ‘Calvinistic opinions’ on account of which the Bishop
of Chester had rejected its founder for ordination in 1814.[21] The dark
horror of Calvinism, permitted doubtless as a scourge after much open
irreligion and careless living, was in mercy overruled in countless instances
for the conviction of sin, and generally to prepare the way for a wider and
more comprehending acceptance of the grace which is in Christ Jesus. But
its direct results on the education of the young were disastrous indeed.
Hearts, by its agency, were turned to stone, or depressed into hopeless
terror; worst of all, religious forms, phraseology, even emotions were
assumed by those who were prone to self-deception, or over anxious to
please.
About 1845 Mr. Carus Wilson’s health broke down as a consequence of
his unsparing and strenuous labours, and the management of his schools
passed into the hands of others. In 1857 the Clergy Daughters’ School was
governed by a Committee of six clergymen, all personal friends of the
founder, men of good standing in the neighbourhood. Archdeacon Evans
was Chairman. This Committee sought to obtain the best teachers possible
for what was then—even more than now—an out-of-the-way place, as far
as the centres of education were concerned. They also aimed at fitting the
girls in the school to earn their own living.
High testimonials were given to Miss Beale by the professors and lady-
visitors of Queen’s College, on her appointment as head-teacher at
Casterton. One from Prebendary Mackenzie is of special interest, as it
shows that in accepting the work she had not in any way identified herself
with the particular religious views then prevailing in the institution.

‘Westbourne College, Bayswater Road, November
1856.
‘I am happy to be able to give very satisfactory replies to
your enquiries respecting Miss D. Beale. She is a young lady
of high moral and religious character, sober-minded and
discreet. Her parents have been careful to avoid party views,
and I have no doubt Miss Dorothea Beale is free from them.
She certainly is a most conscientious person, with a deep

sense of her religious responsibilities. I feel certain that her
influence will always be for good.’

Mr. Plumptre wrote to the Lady Superintendent:—

‘I am unwilling that (Miss Beale) should enter on her
work at Casterton without your hearing from me ... the high
opinion which I entertained both as to her attainments and
her conscientiousness in discharging any duties that may be
assigned her.... I am convinced that in receiving her at
Casterton you will gain a fellow-worker in whose zeal and
Christian principle you may place entire confidence.’

And Mr. Denton:—

‘I should esteem any institution fortunate that had her
services. She is a person of quiet, sincere piety, and an
intelligent Churchwoman.’

Dorothea Beale went to Casterton on the Epiphany, January 6, 1857. Her
diary of 1891 records the memory of this and of the Holy Eucharist at St.
Bartholomew’s at six o’clock, before her long day’s journey, a journey
which ended almost in terror, so alarming to this daughter of the City were
the ‘high, wild hills and rough, uneven ways’ which had to be crossed
between the railway station and the school.
At first, as was natural, she seems to have thought she would like her
work. Mrs. Wedgwood, writing to her in February, says: ‘I felt so much our
loss in you that I could hardly join in the wishes of the lady-visitors of
Queen’s that you might find your new work pleasant. However, I am truly
glad now that you find your new home more agreeable than you had been
led to expect, and that you think the children are happy, and times are
unlike Jane Eyre.’
Very soon the strain of teaching the large number of subjects required to
be taught began to be felt. A less conscientious worker might have entered
lightly upon these at a period when only the most superficial textbook

knowledge was required; but to Dorothea Beale, to whom each lesson
meant much preparation and thought, they soon became a burden. She said
afterwards that the work left her no time for exercise or recreation, and not
enough for sleep. She found herself expected to teach Scripture, arithmetic,
mathematics, ancient, modern, and Church history, physical and political
geography, English literature, grammar and composition, French, German,
Latin, and Italian. Of the last she had written when she accepted the post: ‘I
do not know much of Italian, I will, however, take lessons till Christmas.’
It was obviously impossible for one person to teach all these subjects
properly, and it is not surprising that Miss Beale soon wrote home that she
found the work hard; she does not seem to have complained of anything
else. She said, among other things, that she took eight Bible-classes every
week, two of which consisted of about fifty girls at a time. Her father
replied with the evident intention of bracing and cheering:—

‘Employment is a blessed state, it is to the body what
sleep is to the mind.... I cannot be sorry when I hear you are
fully employed. I am sure it will be usefully, and then by and
bye when the body and the mind alike have perished, and
work and sleep are no longer needed, but the soul shall burst
into existence, how shall we wonder at the willing slaves we
have been during our probation, for the meat which perishes.
You see I am thoughtful,—it is fit.... I feel I can bear your
being so far and so entirely away, with some philosophy, and
I am delighted that your letters bear the tone of contentment,
and that you have been taken notice of by people who seem
disposed to be kind to you.... You will see I have not a thing
to tell you, and I cannot now write any more about thick
coming fancies, but give an old man’s love to all your
pupils, and may they make their Fathers as happy as you do.
God bless you, my dear Dorothea.’

This letter was written in March 1857. Shortly after came another for her
birthday on the 21st, showing how much her absence from home was felt,
and that the parents were doubtful if she were in the right place.

‘God bless you and give you many happy birthdays. I fear
the present is not one of the most agreeable; it is spent at
least in the path of what you considered duty, and so will
never be looked back upon but with pleasure.... Do not,
however, my dear girl, think of remaining long in a position
which may be irksome to you, for thus I think it will hardly
be profitable to others, and indeed I question whether you
would maintain your health where the employment was so
great and duty the only stimulus to action. You have heard
me often quote: “The hand’s best sinew ever is the heart.”’

In May another letter is evidently called forth by some expression of a
longing to be at home, and perhaps by hints of difficulties from Dorothea.

‘May 1857.
‘I think I feel the weeks go more slowly than you do. I
long to see you again very much. I cannot get reconciled to
your position and feel satisfied that it is your place.... God
bless you, my dear girl, and blunt your feelings for the rubs
of the world, and quicken your vision for the beautiful and
unseen of the world above us.’

The last words show how well her father knew the sensitive nature hurt
even by trifles, and prone to take small matters too seriously.
So the long half wore on, and we know, from some of the few who
remain to tell, that Miss Beale was making her mark at Casterton. There
were many there who could appreciate her careful work and inspiring
lessons. Some found especially valuable her accurate teaching of Latin and
mathematics, and the enormous pains she took to make her lessons
intelligible to the dullest; never content to let them merely accept a given
fact or explanation, but leading them on step by step to see and
comprehend. Her literature classes, again, led some into a new world of
ideas and thoughts, and they responded to the thrill of some noble and
beautiful line which would cause their teacher’s eyes to fill with tears as she

read. One, who was Miss Beale’s pupil in the first class at Casterton at this
time, speaks of it with extreme gratitude:—

‘I was seventeen, and had only had home teaching before.
Great was the delight to be taught by one whom you felt to
be complete mistress of any subject she undertook. I was a
dunce at Arithmetic and Euclid. She cut slips of paper to
illustrate the Pons Asinorum, etc., and with her aid I
mastered the first book of Euclid, which has always been
useful to me. Latin grammar we also learned from Miss
Beale. She instilled strict accuracy by making us write verbs
and declensions from memory. Out of class she showed us
much friendliness, inviting us to her room in the evening,
when sometimes she would read aloud to us, sometimes tell
us about the students at Queen’s. It interested us to hear of
those not very young ones who wore caps. Her appearance,
as I remember it then, was charming. Her figure was of
medium height. The rather pale oval face, high, broad
forehead, large, expressive grey eyes, all showed intellectual
character. Her dress was remarkable in its neatness. She
wore black cashmere in the week, and a pretty, mouse-
coloured grey dress on Sundays.’

A little notebook remains to show how she prepared her lessons; how
little she was content with repetition acquired by rote. There are also one or
two little books of Scripture notes belonging to this time, interesting as the
first of an immense series, marking the beginning of the work which was to
be her great means of influence. One of these is on the Book of Proverbs, a
book she never read again with a class; it was probably not her own choice
at this time. The lessons she drew from it were of the most practical nature
for daily life, and contain much teaching on true and false unworldliness.
She had even then the satisfaction of knowing that her Bible teaching was
acceptable to many. She wrote home: ‘Several of the first class make a
practice of taking notes and afterwards copy them out into a book. This I
never tell them to do, nor do I so far encourage it as to look at the notes

after they are written. In the lower part of the school I do not allow them to
take notes without special permission.’
Some notes on the Church services show traces of the pain she felt over
instances of irreverence which she had seen in the school. Those who
remember the almost awful silence in which Miss Beale’s Scripture lessons
at Cheltenham were given, how she wished it to signify the humility and
reverence of spirit necessary for those who would study God’s Word, can
understand how she must have suffered when she saw flippant and careless
behaviour at prayers and Bible classes.
Amongst the numbers of children, many who had been comparatively
untaught before they were brought into this continual round of religious
exercise, it is not surprising to find that there were some who disliked the
appeal made to heart and conscience, and who found this strict sense of
reverence irksome. There was even one naughty girl who in these first days
refused to attend Miss Beale’s classes.
It is clear that Miss Beale conveyed to her classes and to her fellow-
workers, that she had come to Casterton in a missionary spirit. Though there
were many who could appreciate her sacrifice in doing this, it placed her at
a disadvantage with others. She knew herself to be in the forefront of
women’s education, she knew that this school, for all the excellent intention
of the authorities, could not be abreast of the movement; but she failed to
realise, until she personally experienced it, that a self-appointed guide is not
always welcomed.
In the summer holidays, which Miss Beale spent at home, it was noticed
that she was much depressed. The second half-year’s work began in August.
Doubtless she had talked over her difficulties, and her parents knew that she
might soon give up her work. Soon after her return she seems to have
written very strongly about things she would have liked to alter. Especially
was she troubled by the low tone prevailing, the want of respect for
authority, the mischief making and unhealthy friendships. She found this
important school through which pious intention and effort strove to help the
very poorest by protecting them from all dangerous influences, by instilling
definite religious opinions of a certain type, by giving such an education as
should be an effective means of livelihood, very far from being the ideal
college of her dreams. She began to specify her dissatisfaction and to form

ideas for radical improvement. She thought its isolation against it, and that
it was a drawback to have only one class of girls; she felt there should have
been more communication with home,—some of the children did not even
go home for the holidays;—that the life was too monotonous and uniform.
Above all she deprecated a repressive system which had punishments but
no prizes; a system in which all the virtues were negative, the highest
obtainable being obedience to the ever-repeated ‘Thou shalt not.’
It was not possible for Dorothea Beale to see anything wrong, and to act
as if in any way consenting to it, by going on quietly with her own share
like one not called upon to take a leading part. She felt that steps might be
taken to improve some of the matters which distressed her, and after efforts
which seemed to her ineffectual, she sought an interview with the
Committee. Her father was kept fully informed of what she was thinking
and striving to do, as may be seen by the following extracts from his letters
to her:—

‘1857.
‘I think we must be content to wait, at any rate for the
present, and see if any good comes from your interview with
the Committee. You notice two points chiefly,—the low
moral tone of the school, and the absence of prizes. The
want of sympathy and love (the great source of woman’s
influence in every condition of life) was the prominent
feature of the establishment in my mind, after talking it over
with you. But nothing can flourish if love be not the ruling
incentive, and this must be awakened by the teacher and
Principal showing that for it they sacrifice any consideration
of self. This I know my dear girl, you entirely do, and you
do it ineffectually, nay, perhaps worse than uselessly, if you
are not supported. But, as you have gone so far, be not easily
discouraged. Weigh the matter well before this Christmas,
and if you find no changes are made, the same cold
management continued, with the negation of confidence in
the pupils as instanced in the matter of letters, etc., send in
your resignation, and above all, state your reasons as they

bear upon the school, and upon yourself and the class you
represent.
‘I cannot contemplate your not coming up at Christmas.
As we grow older, each year makes us more desirous of the
company of those we love; perhaps because we feel how
soon we shall part with it altogether, perhaps because we are
become more selfish, but such is the fact.’

And again on the same subject:—

‘September 2, 1857.
‘I cannot think you would be right to say you sought to be
put into communication with the Committee because you
heard that they were not satisfied. Surely your application
[to see them] came first. I wrote because I thought the
position and designation of head-teacher to you implied
responsibilities in connection with the authorities; because
you thought the general moral tone of the school lower than
it should be, and the discipline to correct it defective;
because your counsel was not sought, or, if given, not much
heeded. Perhaps we were to blame in not learning more, that
the head-teacher was only an ordinary teacher at Casterton.
But the world would [think it more]; and your own
experience of classes ought to enable you to be a judge of
what was reasonable to expect in the bearing of pupils, both
educational and general. I know your feelings, not to quit
hastily what you have chosen, and considered a post of duty,
and in writing upon the subject I try to put out of the
question my own feelings and those of your mother to have
you at home, or at least nearer home, and really to view the
matter from the same point of view as yourself. Your
remaining at Casterton is, I think, only to be entertained if
such changes in the management are made as are likely in
your view to raise the character of the establishment. I feel
your own education and standing are worthy of better things
[than the position] of an ordinary teacher at Casterton, and

of a better salary. But I cannot doubt if you fairly and
without hesitation state your objections and views, you will
convince some at least that you are acting independently and
without any personal feelings ... I am much as I was, anxious
about you all, conscious how little I can do, and praying that
we may all see clearly that the game of life, whoever may be
the players, is not one of chance or destiny; ... Write to me
when you can—Ever your affectionate father,
Miles Beale.’

It was unusual though not unknown for a teacher at Casterton to appeal to
the Committee, and the six gentlemen who composed it, were not very
eager to hear Miss Beale. They may have suspected personal motives, and
some of them, no doubt, mistrusted her religious principles. Miss Beale has
left notes of her interview, so interesting to us, as the first occasion on
which she tried to gain her own ends—always the best—from a body of
persons who were in the position of directors of education. It suggests a
contrast with the Cheltenham Council meetings of her last years, when her
lightest wish had weight.
The way had been prepared for her by letters which had passed between
the chairman (Archdeacon Evans) and her father. In her first interview,
which was of a preliminary nature, she began by saying: ‘I wished before
saying anything, to know whether it was their wish to hear what I had to
say, or whether they would rather I did not speak. There was a hesitation.
Then Mr. Morewood, in rather a doubtful way said they were always
willing. I said I understood from the Committee last time, and the
Chairman’s letters to my father, that they wished it; then the others joined in
with “Oh yes, certainly.”’ After making her statements on the need for
reform, Miss Beale concluded by saying she should be happy to resign if
the Committee were dissatisfied. The reply was: ‘Oh no, certainly not.’
At a second interview, the Committee allowed her to put before them her
own suggestions for alterations. On this occasion Miss Beale began with a
testimony to what the Lady Superintendent had effected in the school; then
mentioned the prevailing faults which so much distressed her, especially
irreverence and unsuitable language; then boldly went on to point out the

details of the system which might easily be improved, notably, that some
prizes might be given, and that letters to and from parents should not be
supervised. She said:—
‘I think an institution in which the government is entirely by punishments
not likely to produce the best moral effects. I think that reports should be
sent home more frequently than twice a year.’ On being asked to give
instances of disregard of religion, she mentioned one or two in general
terms, saying she should not think it right to give individual examples. Mr.
Rose replied by saying, ‘Unfortunately, such things will occur in large
schools; perhaps you came expecting to find clergymen’s daughters better
than others.’ Some discussion took place on the subject of prizes, during
which ‘occurred the very sapient remark that we do hear of angels being
punished, but not of their going up higher, etc.... I afterwards explained
what I meant by rewards, viz., distinctions, privileges, and the opportunity
of doing good ... and I concluded by saying that unless I felt that the
institution were doing moral good I should not care to stay.’
The interview had been less disagreeable than she had anticipated; she
thought her complaint had had a fair hearing, and in spite of the strain of
work and the anxiety connected with it, she felt her efforts were not wasted.

‘So many,’ she wrote home, ‘ask if they may come and
speak to me; more of them listen when I talk of religion, and
come privately to ask advice which I know they try to
follow. I do feel that I am of use.... I believe I ought to wait
here until either I feel it wrong to stay, or God calls me
elsewhere. He has given me much more strength than I had
any reason to expect. I shall look forward with greater
longing for Christmas; but do get me the papers I want as
soon as you can. I want to do as much as possible before I
leave.
‘I wrote this last night; take care of it as well as the
Committee paper; I may want them. I have a headache to-
day, and I am afraid I show the effect. Do not tell Papa
anything, if you think it will worry him, but let me have
some advice and hear as often as you can.’

But discomfort almost inevitably succeeds complaint. There were fresh
interviews with the Committee; some of the matters which most tried her in
the school régime were naturally more acutely felt, as she herself grew
strained with both anxiety and work. The tone of her letters home grew
more sad as she began to see that after all she must give up her post. She
could not bear to relinquish work that she felt had been given her to do; but
she wrote:—

‘I do not see how it is possible to do much good. I may
work upon a few individuals, but the whole tone of the
school is unhealthy, and I never felt anything like the
depression arising from the constant jar upon one’s feelings
caused by seeing great girls constantly professing not to care
about religion.... It is next to impossible to bear rudeness and
hear so much evil-speaking about all set over them, and keep
up one’s spirits so as to be able to teach energetically; I
would not want to run away if I thought I could do much
good by staying, but I have come to the conclusion that it is
time to send in my resignation. I have gained valuable
experience, and do not think I have been useless; but under
present circumstances it does not seem possible to get on.
‘I was very glad of your nice long letter before, and if you
think I am right, should send in perhaps a slight summary of
the causes for it with my resignation as soon as I can. I am
glad to hear Mama is better.’

Miss Beale’s difficulties were no doubt aggravated by religious
questions. Her chief friend on the Committee, one who appreciated her
sense of duty and intellectual power, did not wish her to remain at the
school. He disliked her theological opinions. She seems hardly to have
realised this at the time, though her father may have done so, as can be seen
from the following letter:—

‘November 8, 1857.

‘Say, if you have an opportunity, as much of what you
have written to the Committee as will show them you sought
the situation at Casterton for the sake of the school. For this
I accepted for you—for this alone. Do not retain it without
sufficient authority to carry forward the minds and morals of
the pupils. You went there in a missionary spirit, I know, as
to a post of usefulness; and you have hitherto retained it in
the same spirit. Maintain this feeling, but assert it with
meekness. We shall all be rejoiced to find you are coming
home; but I dare not urge you beyond this. I was a party to
the compact by which your remuneration was arranged, and
I felt no difficulty in making any concession between what I
felt was due to the order of educated governesses which you
represented, and what the institution could afford to pay; but
I would not recommend you to compromise one iota of
authority which may be fit to carry forward the minds of
your pupils, or of discipline to enforce obedience. Your
pupils are no longer children, and, as the daughters of
clergymen and intended to teach others, are lights upon a
hill, and in point of education, manners, and morals, great
charges indeed. I am witness, too, how roundly and
unequivocally you stated your religious principle.... I
mention this much because I think you have been treated
unfairly on this subject. If the denial of the doctrine of
regeneration by baptism were a sine quâ non by the
governess, it ought to have been so stated. Mr. Mariner
represented their religious basis as far more broad.
Doubtless the Committee have a right to limit the assent of
their teachers to such points; and doing so, I cannot object to
Mr. Shepheard’s voting for your exclusion, neither do I see
how they can accept money from those who think differently
from the Committee. It is a question which has divided
larger societies than at Casterton ... and I can remember
when it convulsed the Choral Society.... You and I are both
labouring to raise the status and influence of the governess,
and you will do it, first by your attainments and education,
and rectitude of conduct under all circumstances, and I by

bringing before those public bodies interested in the matter,
the influence and importance of legislating for their
protection and recognition. We may neither of us live to see
the changes which shall come, but even in our limited
spheres we are breaking ground, and you are gaining whilst
yet young most valuable experience.
‘ ... Above all things take care of your health.... I am quite
sure that you have a long course of usefulness before you.
The flattering regard in which you are held at Queen’s
College, and the constant means you always have in London
of constantly improving yourself, must teach you somewhat
of your own value; though I would not indeed presume upon
it farther than to give you confidence to act rightly. But good
governesses are very scarce, and are far better treated than
they used to be, though not as well as they deserve.
‘Casterton ought to be from the great advantages it offers,
a national institution; but it will not be so if its principles are
narrowed by anything like sectarian jealousy, or if its
standard of education be not high. But Casterton has not yet
been as fortunate as the good intentions of its founder would
seem to deserve. The time will come, I hope, when this and
kindred establishments will seek the visit and inspection of
examiners from the Board of Government, Inspectors of
Schools, and governesses.... I write to you when I begin
currente calamo, and could do so much longer upon a theme
in which we are both interested, and I fear I have given you
no direction. Fear nothing; be firm, but very gentle.’

The matter of the resignation seems to have been hanging on all through
the month of November. Miss Beale evidently wrote home again for advice,
for on the 26th she received another letter from her father:—

‘November 26, 1857.
‘Far from dissuading you from sending in your
resignation, I think it will be expected. We did not appeal to

the Committee that their attention should end in talk, but in
giving you support moral and professional. With less than
this, it is inconsistent with self-respect, or the duty you owe
to the children, to remain.... Now Christmas is approaching,
and, as matters remain as they were, certainly not improved,
—I would seek at once to be relieved. Do not suppose for a
moment I shall consider you are forsaking an appointment to
which you have been called, or in which time would afford
you redress.... Leave it then, and if nothing more congenial
presents itself, we can afford to wait our time, and let us try
together if we cannot carry forward, or at least make more
widely known, our views of what might be effected if your
half of the human family more extensively used that
influence of which they are all the dispensers, as men are of
their power. This is indeed, as Christ said to the woman of
Samaria, “living water,” if derived from Him, satisfying all
thirst from its welling up from within; and by its purity
testing the value of everything it is brought in contact with.
You say you have learned much at Casterton. What matters
it if you have to wait for the Harvest that we are sure “we
shall reap if we faint not,” and gather “fruit unto life
eternal.” It is often in this world, indeed, that “one soweth
and another reapeth,” but though delayed the seed is not
lost.’

Before Miss Beale could formally send in her threatened resignation to
the Committee, she received the following letter from the Chairman:—

‘On your last interview with the Committee you implied
an intention of resigning in case certain alterations should
not be made by the Committee....
‘The Committee are of opinion that under the
circumstances it would be better that your connection with
the school should cease after Christmas next, they paying
you a quarter’s salary in advance.

It will readily be imagined that this summary step on the part of the
Committee caused great distress to one of Miss Beale’s sensitive nature.
Nor was it easy for her to see why the difficult part she had taken upon
herself for the good of the school should be misunderstood. At that moment
it must have seemed like a sentence of failure,—

‘For who can so forecast the years,
To find in loss a gain to match.’

Among the crowning successes of later life she recognised that the blow
had had its place in fashioning her life’s work. Her letter home on the
subject is not preserved, but the following is evidently an answer to it:—

‘December 1857.
‘My dear Girl,—Be sure I have been with you in heart
every day and all day.... We shall all be delighted to have
you at home. I would not have you commit yourself to
writing statements on any account. You have given proof of
the truth of your assertion by offering and sending in your
resignation, and thus relinquishing your salary and the
occupation of teaching to which you had felt yourself called,
because you could not retain the one or follow the other
conscientiously. Though you have not accomplished all you
sought, you have sowed seed which will bear fruit; it may be
for others’ benefit altogether; but to doubt the ultimate result
were a want of faith. Whilst I object to writing, I think you
owe it to yourself to seek rather than shun an interview with
Mr. Wilson. His countenance of you I should consider very
valuable.... Is not this again an instance of the influence of
women, ... the dispensers of influence for good or evil? How
important, then, to cultivate that principle of rightly
discerning. Do you remember the apologue of Esdras? “The
first wrote: Wine is the strongest. The second wrote: The
king is the strongest. The third wrote: Women are strongest.
But above all things Truth beareth away the victory.” How

irresistible, then, is truth, if urged by the self-denial and
patient perseverance of an enlightened and Christian
woman! It is very possible, my dear Dorothea, that you have
never been fairly represented or appreciated at Casterton,
and now you are called to rest content with the
consciousness of acting from right motives, secure that you
possess too the regard and love of all those who can value
such sacrifices as you have made of home, and ease, and
peace for others’ good. I write in great haste, but I will write
as often as you like until we see you.’

Thus was Dorothea cheered and supported from home. Encouragement
came from others also. On December 7, Mr. Plumptre wrote:—

‘I have been informed to-day that you are going to leave
Casterton at Christmas. I fear from this that you have not
found your work there so pleasant as you hoped. If there are
any particulars connected with your change of plan which
you would like to tell me, or anything as to your prospects
for the future, I need not say that I shall be glad to hear
them. Should you feel disposed to resume any part of your
work at Queen’s College? The place of Assistant is of course
being worthily occupied, and so far as I know not likely to
be vacant; but tutorships in Mathematics and other subjects
might probably be open.’

Mr. Shepheard, curate-in-charge of Casterton, and chaplain to the school,
wrote thus to Miss Beale on her leaving:—

‘It is natural that you should wish to have my testimony,
and right that I should give it you regarding the line of
conduct you have persevered in, and the difficult position in
which you have been placed, as well as regarding your
general principles.

‘It is no more than your due that I should say to others
what I have said to yourself, that I think your conduct
throughout the painful circumstances of your connection
with the Clergy Daughters’ School has been such as to
reflect the highest honour upon yourself. You have only
done your duty in boldly expressing what you thought
required correction in the school. And if your faithful
discharge of that duty has brought discomfiture on yourself,
you have the comfort of knowing that it is no dishonour to
suffer for well-doing.
‘I have the greatest pleasure in offering you my cordial
esteem and regard. And though there are points of religious
doctrine, and those not small nor secondary, on which we
must agree to differ, this cannot affect my opinion of the
high principle and conscientious conduct which you have
manifested throughout your stay at Casterton.
‘Of your abilities and acquirements I need not speak.
They are well known here, and can better be described by
those who have had the opportunity of witnessing and
benefiting by them personally, than by myself; and of such
witnesses there are no lack.
‘We shall always be glad to hear of your happiness, and
hope to retain your friendship when removed to a distance
from us.—I am, dear Miss Beale, very sincerely yours,
H. Shepheard (Incumbent).’

The letter shows, what was indeed true, that difficulties and differences
both in the Committee and the school were aggravated by bitterness on the
subject of religious opinions. This comes out still more clearly in a
correspondence Miss Beale kept up for a little time with Mrs. Shepheard,
who was a daughter of Mr. Carus Wilson, the aged founder of the school,
and at this time infirm and worn by the immense labours of his younger
days.
The Bishop and Dean of Carlisle, being called upon to advise the
Committee, patiently heard evidence for eight hours. Mr. Carus Wilson also

decided to visit the school himself; but before he went north, Mrs.
Shepheard arranged an interview between him and Miss Beale, writing to
her: ‘Do not be afraid of my beloved father—tall, grey-headed, and
anxious, but clear and open as you please.’ A memorable meeting surely
this, of two who with widely differing methods were alike in high, earnest
aim and self-devotion. It took place in February, and in the same month Mr.
Wilson made one of his last visits to his old home and flock. Mrs.
Shepheard notes that ‘it is supposed that nine hundred were in this little
church last Sunday to hear my father!’
In the course of the year 1858 many changes were made in the
management of the Clergy Daughters’ School, and this chapter on Casterton
may fitly close with an extract from a letter written to Miss Beale by her
friend, Mrs. Greene, of Whittington Hall:—

‘ ... There was a little music yesterday evening at the Clergy
School, and Miss Vincent asked me to be present. I know your
kind heart will give interest to what goes on there, and so I
waited till it was over to tell you how it went off, etc.... I assure
you the performance was extremely good, and the girls’
manners and appearance were those of young English
Gentlewomen; this I consider good praise. Miss Vincent
appears to me the very person to fill so important a post.... We
spoke much of you, she evidently appreciates you; and when
the music was over, I went to one or two of the ladies near, and
asked, “Were you acquainted with Miss Beale?” One came
forward with a beaming face and replied, “Oh, I know her well,
and have heard from her.” I replied, “So have I; and I shall write
to her to-morrow.” I do not know who my friend was, but
perhaps you will.
‘And now let me tell you how delighted I am you are so
comfortable; that you are doing much good I am equally sure....
I hope we may sometimes meet. Would you even spare us a
little time here? If so, I would offer you a hearty welcome.’

CHAPTER IV
AN INTERVAL

‘O dignitosa coscienza e netto
Come t’e picciol fallo amaro morso.’

Dante, Purgatorio, iii.

The early part of the year 1858 is the one period in the life of Dorothea Beale
when she could have been called really free. It was a time when it became her
part to choose what she would do; to wait for what was suitable, to decide
between conflicting claims. She came home depressed, defeated, disappointed;
but she had discovered her own weakness and real strength; she had increased
her knowledge of human nature through some experience of a boarding-school
and its Committee. She had learned for one thing, that it would be best for
herself and for the world that she should be head of a school, and she submitted
to wait for one. But in the meantime other calls and needs besides that of
education were heard and considered.
The fact of apparent failure in her recent position at Casterton might have
been taken as an indication that her energies should perhaps be directed to a
fresh field of action. She was not under the necessity of earning her bread; she
loved her home and had a circle of friends and interests about her. Various kinds
of good work for others appealed to her, and her ability and gifts made it clear
that she might have succeeded in other walks of life than the one in which her
steps were finally directed.
Though Dorothea had inherited, in a strong degree, her father’s antipathy to a
mariage de convenance, though she was far from regarding marriage as the
necessary completion of a woman’s life, she had not—at this time at least—
made any definite refusal of it. This is a subject to which it will not be necessary
to return in Miss Beale’s life, devoted as it became to one great cause. But here,
before her vocation had distinctly declared itself, it is right to say that in the
course of events she was not only not without opportunities of marriage, she
also gave it her full consideration. Flippant scholars might echo the words of
Punch, ‘How different from us, Miss Beale and Miss Buss!’ But in the sense in

which the words were intended, this was not true in either case. Suffice it to say,
that Dorothea Beale knew what it was to be admired, loved, even for a short
time engaged to be married. She knew also, among other experiences, what it
was to sacrifice a girlish romance because it was right to put away vain regret;
to forget the things that are behind, and in this matter as in others, to use any
sense of personal loss in such a way that it strengthened her character.
To pass from this subject, which, as it happens, does not appear to have had
any place in the short period which elapsed between Casterton and Cheltenham,
it is interesting to note what kinds of work Miss Beale considered with a view
to taking them up.
Philanthropic occupations in the ordinary sense of the term she had had but
few. Her duties as a tutor at Queen’s College were first undertaken when she
was still eighteen, and up to then her time had been filled with interests arising
from her own education and that of her brothers. Yet, while at Queen’s, busy as
she was, she had made time to aid one less fortunate than herself. In 1853 her
friend Miss Alston consulted her how best to help a clever boy brought up in a
charity school. Miss Beale volunteered to teach him Euclid and algebra, and for
four months gave him a lesson a week in each of these subjects. In that time he
went through the first four books of Euclid and part of the sixth. Miss Beale
enjoyed these lessons, for her pupil was keen and intelligent and took a delight
in working out things for himself. Doubtless he too responded to the teaching of
one whose method was ever to lead a pupil on to perceive a truth before
accepting it. When, after a time, he came under the instruction of the
headmaster of a public school, the latter remarked to Miss Alston à propos of
Miss Beale’s teaching: ‘What a well-balanced head your friend must have!’
She had never, however, been engaged in the Sunday School teaching and
visiting of the poor, such as was not infrequently undertaken by thoughtful girls
of her day. Her strong intellectual bent, her well-defined sense of purpose
possibly kept her from even good occupations which might have seemed
desultory. But one kind of work for others seems actually to have been
considered. This was in connection with Mrs. Lancaster whom for some years
Miss Beale had helped by collecting money for the Church Penitentiary
Association, and for a Diocesan Home at Highgate. Mrs. Lancaster became in
1861 the founder of St. Peter’s Sisterhood. She died in 1874. ‘She was,’ says
one who knew her, ‘a very remarkable woman, of great charm and cleverness,
and wholly devoted to the service of God.’ Her letters to Miss Beale at this time
show that she was at once drawn to her young helper, so active in inspiring
others to share in the good work, so punctual in her payments.

It was work in which Miss Beale was interested all her life, to which she gave
largely, and which she ever promoted as far as her much filled time and thought
permitted. Mrs. Lancaster greeted her first sign of interest with a warm
welcome to the new worker. ‘Indeed, it was a great joy to me to see another
drawn in by the Good Shepherd to help in seeking His lost sheep. May He bless
and strengthen your will and power for the work.’
Dorothea appears to have been an assistant secretary, and to have collected
money from her sisters and friends for this object. It is unnecessary, perhaps, to
say that this money was always paid on the same date of each year.
After a time, when it seemed likely that Miss Beale would not remain at
Casterton, Mrs. Lancaster obviously hoped to find in her one who would give
up her life and talents to this cause. ‘I wish,’ she wrote, ‘for the sake of poor
Penitents that you were more free, for I fancy you are a real, steady, orderly
doer, and that is worth much in such a cause. Still, you do what you can, and
may well be grateful to help in any way. Thank your sister too very much; it is
very delightful to get young interest.’
Then, when an occasion arrived on which it was absolutely necessary to find
a worker for the Highgate Home, she wrote: ‘Are you sure that you don’t know
of a really good young lady not over accomplished, and she need know neither
Greek nor Hindostanee, who would come and live at the Home, with a salary of
£30 only, and poor people’s diet?’ This was followed by a still more practical
suggestion: ‘Is there any chance (I don’t like the word) of your liking to take the
Headship of a large Penitentiary to be worked by Sisters, but the whole under
strict, honest, English principles—more like Kaiserwerth than anything we have
now?’ Dorothea’s answer seems to have emboldened Mrs. Lancaster to make a
definite suggestion to her to come herself, either as a Sister or a lay worker, and
the following note from Mrs. Lancaster, written during the summer holidays of
the Casterton year, shows that the idea was to some extent entertained. It is
interesting also in the history of the work and institution established by that
lady.

‘As your mind does not altogether say “No” to my proposal
at once, I write a line to beg you not to decide against the
thought of what I wrote to you about, without weighing very
seriously these considerations:

‘What is the highest work?

‘What constitutes a call to God’s service?
‘Is it lawful to give up a higher for a lower
work?

‘If, when you have considered it well, you feel at all drawn
towards it, then will you write either to me or to the Rev. John
Oliver of St. Mary’s House of Mercy, Highgate, appointing with
him to see you (for the appointment is in his hands), and he will
not make it unless he is fully convinced that the lady would
work it on strictly English principles, and that her heart was
given to God first. He is very earnest and very honest, and all
there seems most hopeful if regarded as a beginning and a
foundation, for at present there are only two Sisters and one
other lady at work. The house and grounds are delightful, the
Penitents in a good healthy state, and if but a wise lady is given
to the work I should be very hopeful of seeing there, such a
Sisterhood as we have talked about but have not been privileged
to see growing up in English soil. Pray do consult your sister, or
your parents, but please confidentially, as I think we ought to do
these preliminaries as quietly as possible. I have mentioned
your name quite in confidence to Mr. Oliver, and I do hope you
will see him and talk it out to the bottom with him before you
decide. I know you will do what is better than all, ask for
guidance that cannot fail.
‘I do not think your parents would object, after allowing you
to go to Casterton and Queen’s College, because in point of
position, this is now felt to be all that a lady need care about. I
am so very anxious about Highgate because it seems so hopeful
as regards soundness of principle now, but I will say no more
excepting to beg you to remember that the appointment does
not rest with me even if you felt you could and would take it.—
Ever yours affectionately and sincerely,
Rosa: Lancaster.’

It is probable that Mrs. Lancaster’s friendship and the glimpse of Sisterhood
life which she obtained by means of it deepened the sense of vocation with
which Miss Beale was prepared to take up the new work for which she was

waiting in 1858. It may also have had its influence on outside matters such as
dress, which we know, when engaged on her work of teaching, was in early
days especially very plain and simple. Mrs. Lancaster was obviously a friend
whom she revered, one to whom she could speak of religious matters, and with
whose devoted work among poor women she fully sympathised; but the
conventual side of it never really appealed to her.
Through Miss Twining, who began her work in 1850, Miss Beale became
much interested in the reform of workhouses, and the idea even passed through
her mind of seeking a position as matron in order to help to promote a better
state of affairs. We can only wonder what would have been wrought had that
great personality and unwearied diligence, that refusal to accept anything but
the best, been brought to bear on the Poor Law, on Vestries, or Boards of
Guardians.
The education of girls of her own class was of far deeper interest to her than
any other work for women. She was trained for it, was conscious of her own
power and knowledge of what a school should be, and she decided to wait till
she could find a headship and carry out her own ideas. It was not quite easy to
find the post she wanted. As she put it herself, ‘They might say, “She could not
get on at Queen’s, she could not get on at Casterton”’; and it is obvious from
her diary, that though she was actually told as early as January 1858 of the
possible vacancy at Cheltenham, she tried for more than one school before she
was elected there in June.
While she waited, she worked. There was plenty of home interest, a pleasant
circle of friends about her: she took her share in the life of others, and yet led
her own and accomplished a large amount in those few months. During a part of
this time she gave weekly lessons in mathematics and Latin at Miss Elwall’s
school at Barnes, a school which afterwards became well known under Miss
Eliza Beale, already in 1858 an assistant teacher there. But the great occupation
of these months was The Student’s Textbook of English and General History.
In point of time this important work was the third book produced by Miss
Beale, and a word on its first predecessor will not be out of place here.
The little volume on the Deaconesses’ Institution at Kaiserwerth was the
outcome of a visit there during one of two summers passed in Germany for the
sake of studying schools and foreign methods of education. Miss Beale stayed
for a few days with the founder, Pastor Fliedner, and his wife, and studied each
department of work. She was specially pleased with the Hospital and Sunday-
school, of which she wrote with much appreciation: ‘I never was present at a

lesson which seemed to give so much pleasure to children and listeners, as well
as to the teacher, who certainly understood the art of drawing out children by
means of questions.’
Germany, its schools and similar institutions, its literature and language, even
its handwriting, had a great attraction for Miss Beale. She had a few German
lessons at the Paris school and afterwards worked at it alone, finally perfecting
herself in the language by two long visits to the country, when she stayed
principally at Brunswick and Dresden. On one occasion she resided for some
time in a German family. In after years she would talk of this time to the girls at
Cheltenham, telling them how she would make a point of conversing with the
person she understood least easily at any gathering, inquiring the meaning of
any word she did not know, to make use of it herself at the first opportunity.
‘And of course I did not mind being laughed at a little,’ she would add with a
smile. Hence the praise that German ladies teaching at Cheltenham would
accord her knowledge of the language, saying that she never made a mistake
either in speaking or writing. She frequently made use of the German character
in writing her diary.
The book on Kaiserwerth, written as it was for a special cause, has naturally
long since had its day, though on its appearance it was accepted widely enough
to justify the thought of a second edition. Mrs. Lancaster was greatly interested
by it, and showed it to the Bishop of London,[22] who had just signed the Rule
of the newly-founded Sisterhood. Both Bishop Jackson and Dean Trench
declined, in friendly letters, dedications to themselves of a second edition, and
none appears to have been issued; possibly on account of difficulties suggested
by Mrs. Lancaster, who wished the scope of the book enlarged to embrace work
of a similar nature in England. In the event of this being done, she begged Miss
Beale to add a notice of the infant Community of St. Peter’s, then in Broughton
Square. To-day the book can scarcely be called extant, but there is certainly one
copy in England and one in Kaiserwerth. It is interesting because it shows, like
other writing of this time, the continuity of Miss Beale’s ideas and thoughts.
Her sowing had been betimes and abundant, and she could already gather as she
needed. She did not give till she had the wherewithal, and though in her long
years she frequently sowed afresh—was ever disciple as well as teacher—she
was an early husbandman, a wise householder, able continuously and
opportunely to bring out things new and old. The simile of Jairus’s daughter,
occurring for the first time in the passage quoted below, was one she often
quoted in connection with that awakening of women’s energies it had been her
lot to share; and one she finally enshrined for her children in the window placed

in the College to the memory of Miss Buckoll in 1890. And like much of her
later work, the little book shows also how much her religion went hand in hand
with all her work for others. There was no thought of the emancipation of
women, no word of rights; she spoke only of duties, of scope to do good; but
even these were quite secondary to the desire, the will to make the effort, the ear
to hear the bidding voice. Here is a passage to illustrate this:

‘It has occurred to me that a more detailed description than
that given six years ago by Miss Nightingale of an institution in
which she was herself trained, and which has since that time
many new features, might assist those who are considering the
best way of turning to account the wasted energy of our
country-women, of those whose highest happiness it would be
to be like Mary, Joanna, and Susannah, to follow Christ....
There are many who, when they pray to God “to comfort and
succour all them who ... are in trouble, sorrow, need, sickness,
or any other adversity,” cannot be satisfied without giving a
small portion of their money, who tremble at the thought of
being numbered with the women who are at ease, with the
careless daughters. O that Christ would take us by the hand. He
has but to speak the word: “Daughter, I say unto thee, Arise”;
and we shall arise and minister to Him: then will the scorners
acknowledge we were only sleeping, and our souls will magnify
the Lord.’[23]

Two other short extracts must be permitted:

‘I could not but contrast the aimless existence of many of my
own country-women, the dreary regions of the fashionable
world, with the wide field under cultivation by this band of
Sisters, who, by God’s blessing, penetrate year by year farther
into the wilderness, and rescue so many of their fellow-
creatures from evils more to be dreaded than famine, pestilence,
and the sword.’[24]

Finally, the following passage tells how the strengthening thought of the
Communion of Saints, of which she spoke to Miss Gore on the last Sunday of
her life, was already beginning to be hers:

‘The happiness of a Deaconess does not arise from external
circumstances; it is a peace which the world cannot give. She
must be prepared to live away from the world, without any
society but that of a few sick persons and children, without
beautiful services; to believe, in the midst of unbelief and sin, in
the Holy Catholic Church and the Communion of Saints. She
must always be watching for her Lord’s coming, for in the
midst of the pestilence and near the field of battle is her
post.’[25]

A second visit to Kaiserwerth, ten years later, gave Miss Beale great pleasure.
She was delighted with the work being done and the extension of the small
beginnings she had seen in 1856. In 1905, at Oeynhausen, she met accidentally
a Deaconess of Kaiserwerth, was much attracted by her, and invited her to come
and see her and talk to her of the institution, and after her return to England
exchanged letters with her.
The Textbook of History entailed a great deal of labour and study, which must
have been a boon to its writer at a time of depression and uncertainty. Though
the scheme of it was no doubt in her mind before she left Casterton, and the
book was probably begun in the summer holidays of 1857, it was not till after
Christmas that she was free to devote herself to it. Then she threw into the work
every hour she could justly secure, striving at the same time not to neglect
family claims. The conditions under which it was done were little short of
heroic. In order to secure freedom from interruption both for herself and her
books of reference, she chose for her study a large empty room, where she
worked in the midst of open volumes spread round her on the floor. It was
winter, but she was glad to avail herself of the difficulty of keeping up a daily
fire at the top of the old City house, in order to give less attraction to any other
members of the household to sit with her and take up time in conversation. The
empty grate by which she wrote lends significance to an entry in the diary of
March 1858: ‘Self-indulgence because of cold.’ The self-denial and
concentration of the writer bore early fruit, for this book, a digest of world-wide
histories, was published in August 1858, just after its author had come to
Cheltenham. The production of this textbook is an instance of the way in which
Miss Beale would see and seize an opportunity. There was a real need for such a
work. In her introduction she alludes to objections which could be raised to
similar books then in use, and which were stated in articles which appeared in
the Times of January 1857.

Miss Beale’s reference is doubtless to two letters headed ‘The Corruption of
Popular School Books.’ The first of these, by the noted Dr. Cumming, appeared
on January 17, and dealt with certain changes which had been made, in a
Romish direction, in a widely used textbook of English history by Henry Ince.
A new edition had lately appeared, professing itself to be much extended and
improved, in wide circulation, and sanctioned by her Majesty’s Committee of
the Council of Education. This edition, pleaded the writer of the Times letter,
contained statements which made it ‘unsuitable for use in Protestant schools.’
Those quoted, e.g. that ‘Queen Elizabeth was a mistress in the art of
dissembling,’ do not seem very reprehensible, but enough savour of Papistry
had been introduced into the book to cause the Committee above-mentioned and
the Society of Arts to strike the book off their lists. Dorothea Beale was quick to
see and seize the opportunity thus afforded for a new textbook.
The very large scope of the work, embracing as it does the whole history of
the world since the beginning of the Christian era, with the history of England
given in rather fuller detail than the rest, makes it imperative that its hundred
and seventy closely printed pages should be rather dry. The Textbook is intended
for the teacher rather than the pupil; highly useful in its arrangement of facts,
and names, and suggestions of ideas, but not in itself a complete lesson-book.
Its clearness and fulness are not more characteristic of the writer than the
dramatic instinct which led her to give such names, titles, and short quotations
as tend at once to fix a fact in the memory, and to conjure up visions of the
conditions under which such and such events took place. Miss Beale had a
remarkable quickness in seizing on the important matter and stating it in a few
telling words. It is interesting to take at haphazard her history of any century,
and mark what a wealth of interest rather than of information is brought
together in a few short pages to stimulate the reader’s thirst for knowledge. But
it is sufficient to point out the titles chosen for the centuries, as showing what
seemed to her of greatest importance to the progress of mankind.[26]
The book is completed with an account of the English Constitution and some
genealogical tables. It reached a seventh edition, but Miss Beale was disinclined
to bring it up to quite modern times, doubtless because she felt there are now
other books to cover the ground as well or better than her own. Consequently
the nineteenth century is left uncompleted. The book, however, played a useful
part at a time when the teaching of history was very imperfect, and was well
received by those who knew its author. ‘The plan of the book,’ wrote Mr.
Plumptre, ‘seems to me very good, and I cannot doubt that you have carried into

the details the same painstaking accuracy with which we used to be familiar in
your work with us.’
Mr. Mackenzie, at the writer’s request, made an elaborate criticism, from
which it is enough to quote his ‘chief complaint’: ‘Your unfairness to your own
sex, and your willingness to believe and repeat the calumnies uttered against
them by male writers, a fault to which the old monks were especially prone; but
they were not quite silent, as you are, upon the virtues of the royal and noble
Anglo-Saxon ladies, who did so much, even in the darkest ages, towards
educating and refining the barbarous people by whom they were surrounded.’
Mr. Beale mentioned it more than once in his letters to the daughter in whose
talent he had such pride: ‘The success of your little book is very encouraging. E.
says they call it “Beale’s Ince.” ... I dined at the Adams’ last week, a doctor’s
party. Dr. Daldy was loud in praise of the Textbook.’ And again, ‘Underneath D.
Beale in my own copy I have written “sed summa sequar festigia rerum.”’ And
to the end it was a source of satisfaction to the writer herself. ‘You could not
have done so well without my Textbook, could you?’ she said to an old pupil
whose Histories for Schools have been widely accepted.
The third work of this period was a little book entitled Self-Examination. This
was chiefly designed for schools, and was edited by Mr. Denton, the vicar of St.
Bartholomew’s, Moor Lane. This book, too, written when books of devotion
were far less common than they are now, and in order to supply a real need of
schoolgirls, has been long superseded by others, but in many cases the works
for which it has been put on one side are less thoughtful and penetrating. The
questions and meditations are arranged round the subjects of ‘My Duty towards
God, and my Duty towards my Neighbour,’ and with the comment of verses
from the Bible are presented in that tabular form which Miss Beale loved.[27]
The actual questions for self-examination are throughout slight and few in
proportion to what is suggested by the Scripture texts and the meditations; the
reason doubtless being to make the reader think for herself.
This little work brings us face to face with that religion which all her life long
was the motive power of Dorothea’s life. Deep religious feeling was no phase
nor change of thought which came to her with years or experience. It was not
wrought for her in the furnace of sorrow, though many times there renewed and
purified. It was so much the dominating force of her mind and life, that, by
which every day as every year she was controlled and inspired, that it may be
reverently regarded as a special gift to one called to a great service. ‘I cannot,’
she wrote, ‘look back upon the time when God was not a present Friend. I

would throw myself on my knees in trouble, and He gave of His compassion.
How (as a child) I used to follow the service and wish it were possible to think
of what God was;—to think of Him as mere Light was the nearest approach.’
And as an old woman—despite the love of friends, and her well-deserved
honours, often alone and sick and weary—she wrote, ‘The Lord is my Light.’
But the religion of Dorothea Beale was far indeed from being a mere succession
of beautiful and comforting thoughts. It meant authority. It involved all the
difficulties of daily obedience, it meant the fatigue of watching, the pains of
battle, sometimes the humiliation of defeat. Intense as was her feeling on
religious subjects, it was never permitted to go off in steam, as she would term
it, but became at once a practical matter for everyday life. Sorrow and regret for
sin and mistakes passed into fresh effort against them; the perception of a
beautiful thought or idea became a new motive for definite acts of charity and
diligence. With regard to such a religious life as hers, the mind dwelling
habitually in a region which is beyond controversy, it seems like a descent to a
lower plane to speak of religious opinions. Yet no approximately true history of
her can be related without reference to these. Even if there were no record of it
as there is, it is obvious that one at once so large-minded and clear-headed,
whose life displayed so much organisation and arrangement, must have
definitely faced the great problems of eternity, must have listened to every
appeal of Christianity, and with her own eyes have looked up each avenue of
thought which promised an approach to Truth. And this she undoubtedly did.
But in the knowledge of Divine things, as in that which she would scarcely
permit to be called secular, her faithfulness and simple obedience to early
teaching directed her mind to certain religious duties and opinions from which
she never parted: ‘If any man will do His will he shall know of the doctrine,’ is
a text she was fond of quoting to her Scripture classes. She lived to realise it.
Very early and continuously she ruled her life by the commandments of the
Lord, and when storms arose, when winds and floods of doubt threatened ruin,
when she was herself ready to cry, ‘All is gone,’ the foundations of the house of
faith were yet secure, and thereon love rebuilt.
And so it may be truly said that the framework of her personal religion was in
age what it had been in youth. She had her own distinctly outlined path to which
she had been guided early by such friends as her father and Mr. Mackenzie.
This has been sometimes lost sight of, possibly owing to her deep sympathy and
interest in matters of doubt and difficulty. When any of her children turned to
her in distress of this nature, she felt, more than at any other time, the yearning
of a mother’s heart, and was fearful of saying any word or even of showing any
opinion of her own which might alarm or seal up confidence. Hence people of

widely different views wished to claim her as of their own way of thinking
when often she was not. She did not think it of paramount importance when
speaking to the unorthodox, or even to the agnostic, to state her own beliefs
precisely. She did not seek to proselytise but to help, to remove, as far as power
was given her, all hindrances to the light, to persuade those who were in
darkness still to obey. But she knew that she could not make any see; she
recognised faith as the gift of God.
Miles Beale was a Churchman of the type known best by its nickname ‘High
and Dry.’ His daughters were still quite young when they found this was a
school to which not all the world belonged, and they began to appreciate
religious differences. They heard, between St. Helen’s and St. Bartholomew’s,
preachers of varying shades of thought. Mr. Mackenzie was succeeded at St.
Helen’s by an incumbent of evangelical views. Some of Mr. Denton’s curates at
St. Bartholomew’s went over to Rome; one became Father Ignatius.
Dorothea was only sixteen when her father wrote to her on the subject of the
Hampden-Gorham dispute, as of a matter she well understood and found
interesting. And this recalls the fact that religious controversy of that day raged
specially round the question of Baptismal Regeneration. A letter written to the
Council of the Ladies’ College after her appointment[28] shows how clearly and
concisely, and without reference to books, Miss Beale could state her opinions.
It deals with her views of the Sacraments, marking her religious position at the
time and indeed to the end;—it was for her Prayer-book that she asked in the
one clear moment of the last unconsciousness. This letter contains a bare,
unemotional statement of belief, to which may well be added this: that while
she held firmly the doctrine of ‘Two only, as generally necessary to salvation,’
the life of grace through the Sacraments was the power by which she lived. She
recognised herself as fortunate in her special heritage of Christian thought,
writing of it thus:—

‘It was a time of great religious revival: the bald services of
my childhood were beginning to develop into the musical
services of our own time.... The beautiful music of to-day is not
more dear to me than those plain services with often grotesque
accompaniments where I learned to see Heaven opened. Miss
Sewell’s writings, especially The Experience of Life, helped me
in early youth to work out the problems of my daily life.
Religion quickened the intellectual life, for Sacramental
teaching was to the leaders of that movement no narrow

dogmatism, but the discovery of the river of the water of life
flowing through the whole desert of human existence, and
making it rejoice and blossom as the rose, revealing a unity in
creation, a continuity in history, a glory in art, a purpose in life,
making life infinitely worth living.’[29]

When quite young she began the practice of Sunday Communion, and many
a week day found her at the 6 a.m. celebration at St. Bartholomew’s Church.
From first to last her scanty diary records this service among the leading facts of
ordinary life.
In the power thus gained she had ever before her the thought of co-operation,
of working out salvation, of putting on Christ by daily dying to self by minute
watchfulness, and in every sense of the word painstaking diligence. At a time
when the pulpits of Cheltenham were ringing with statements which seemed to
her to misrepresent the great doctrine of the Atonement, she was speaking to her
children of the true nature of the Redeemer’s Blood, of the living stream
flowing from the Heart through all the members; she was seeking for herself
and for them the righteousness of Christ, not as a mere substitution, but as a real
attainment won by the union of a soul wholly surrendered to the workings of the
grace of God.
This chapter may fitly close with a passage from the diary, which she appears
to have begun to keep for the first time this year, when she was to some extent
forced back upon herself, when she was making her own scheme of daily work.
Begun on Ash Wednesday, February 17, 1858, it was continued intermittently at
least to 1901, when the increasing infirmities of age made all reading and
writing difficult. Sometimes dropped for many months, it was taken up again as
if with the suggestion of a sense of culpability for neglect. It was never full;
never, so far as outward events are concerned, of any great interest. Some of
these, indeed, as the writing of certain letters, the visits of certain friends, or
business engagements, are just mentioned and no more; doubtless for the sake
of reference only. It remains for us as a revelation of the keen self-scrutiny with
which she, who had to guide and warn others, was daily searching her own soul.
Very often for weeks there is no mention of anything done, or seen, or thought
as far as the matters of this world are concerned; but she never failed to note
what she regarded as the real life, spiritual growth or the reverse, right or wrong
conduct, faithful or unfaithful performance of religious duties. This diary cannot
be ignored if a true presentment of Dorothea Beale is to be given. Hence,
intimate as it is, enough extracts as may display the persistent effort of her life

are inserted here. They are not consecutive, but chosen as characteristic and
interesting, and showing to some extent the occupations of the period. Scanty
traces indeed of what she was doing and thinking, they are yet enough to show a
little of the anxiety and conflict of which she wrote in 1901 to Miss Margaret
Richardson, in these words: ‘Once I had an interval of work, and I thought
perhaps God would not give it me again—but after that interval He called me
here. I think now I can see better how I needed that time of comparative quiet
and solitude, and a time to think over my failures, and a time to be more helpful
to my family.’

Extracts from Diary of 1858
‘February 17th.—Ash Wednesday. [To] S. M’s. [Applied] for
school at Holloway. Lip-service. Snappish. Resolution. [to
strive for more] humility, patience, charity.
‘February 26th.—Miss Alston came. Idle [meditation] on
peace. To be less anxious.
‘February 27th.—History for seven hours. Church. Some
idleness.
‘March 5th.—Went to see Mr. Sankey about boy’s evening
school. To church. History. Many impatient answers to Mama.
‘March 6th.—History. Aunt E. came. Cross at not getting my
own way. Some idleness. Impatient manner.
‘March 7th, Sunday.—Went to H. E. without prayer. Not a
devoted service. Morning prayer nothing but vain thoughts. At
evening Church. Very cross.
‘April 14th.—History. Elizabeth. Called on Mrs. Blenkarne.
Dined at Chapter House. Idle. Indulgence in reading story at my
time for evening prayer. Unpunctual in morning. Thoughtless
about Mama.
‘April 20th.—History, 16th Century. Felt terribly cross. O
grant me calmness.
‘April 22nd.—Went about servants till 11.30. Wrote to Miss
Hyde. Still some tempest within.
‘June 2nd.—Copying. Dinner party. Eliza at home. Worldly.

‘June 3rd.—Headache. To Mrs. Northcote’s. [Wrote] preface.
‘June 4th.—Saw Mrs. Barrett. Copied. Neglected prayer
greatly. Very worldly.
‘June 7th.—Wrote letters. A terrible blank of worldliness.
Idle.
‘June 9th.—Wrote to Miss Elwall. Letter from Cheltenham.
M. copied certificates. Worldly. Spoke angrily to A.
‘June 10th.—Wrote to Cheltenham. Saxon Exhibition.
Selfish and worldly.
‘June 13th.—S. Bartholomew’s twice. H. E. Inattentive
twice. Unkind thoughts and words.
‘June 14th.—Letter to go to Cheltenham.
‘June 16th.—Elected.’

CHAPTER V
CHELTENHAM

‘He builded better than he knew.’—Emerson.

Dorothea Beale in age remembered that in youth she had planned ‘an air-
castle school, with a central quadrangle, cloisters and rooms over.’
To few is it given, as it was given to her, to realise so nearly the dreams of
youth, for few possess the sense of purpose and the indomitable will which fell
to her portion. But the college of her vision did not come into being without a
process of development so slow that for some years progress could hardly be
recorded, nor without infinite disappointment even in matters which seemed at
the time vital; not without ceaseless effort, seen and unseen, on the part of the
Lady Principal.
We have reached, in the twentieth century, a period in the history of
education in which schools may be said to be founded ready-made. A great and
fine ‘plant,’ opening ceremonies, royal patronage, appear necessities from the
beginning. The Ladies’ College, Cheltenham, was twenty years old before it had
a building of its own, its first stone was laid by an unknown hand, its opening
rite consisted of school prayers in the ordinary way on a Monday morning, at 9
a.m., with the addition of a few words rather nervously read by the Lady
Principal. The college has never had a patron, nor did it even have any specially
distinguished visitor, till the Empress Frederick came in 1897.
The Ladies’ College did not originate with Miss Beale. She brought to it,
when it was but a weakling and like to perish, all her dreams and all her
energies. She made it emphatically her own; but its first inception was with a
small number of Cheltenham residents, notably with the Reverend H. Walford
Bellairs, then H.M. Inspector of Schools for Gloucestershire,[30] and the
Reverend C. A. Bromby,[31] Principal of the Training Colleges. Its foundation
was a continuation of work already begun in the town with the opening of
Cheltenham College, in 1843. This was one of the earliest of the great
nineteenth century public schools, and one of the very few which has no ancient
origin. A very slight glance at the history of the town, which has produced two

great colleges, will serve to show that their work in its midst has been almost
that of a quiet and beneficent revolution.
The mild air and fertile soil of the great plain below the Cotswold Hills were
recognised as early as the days of Edward the Confessor, when Cheltenham was
called upon to furnish a large amount of bread for the royal kennels. For
centuries only a little market town with a beautiful Early Gothic church on the
banks of an insignificant stream, it crept out of obscurity in the pages of Ogilby
who, in 1785, described it as inhabited by people ‘much given to plant tobacco,
though they are suppressed by authority.’
Forty years after this the discovery of the medicinal properties of its waters
made the place attractive to those who could afford to take the remedy, and in
the later years of George the Third, it came to be the ‘Queen of watering
places.’ Details of the long royal visit of 1788 may be read in the pages of
Fanny Burney and others. The King would afterwards speak of Cheltenham and
the Vale of Gloucester as ‘the finest part of my kingdom that I have beheld.’
Other distinguished visitors followed: the Prince Regent, who gave a ball;
Charles James Fox; Wellington, within a year of Waterloo; Louis Philippe and
Marie Amélie in their exile; and many others, among whom, as a boy, came
Byron, to wander, according to a continental biographer, ‘on the seashore at
Cheltenham!’
As late as 1870 there was in Cheltenham scarcely a house which did not
testify by its grandiose, pseudo-classic[32] architecture to the past magnificence
of a town which had striven to be worthy of a court. Even to-day there are but
few which do not follow the lines laid down by the builders of the early years of
the nineteenth century, a time at which the town grew with mushroom speed. It
was a period when population was rapidly increasing all over the country; but in
few places were the leaps and bounds so marked as in Cheltenham, where in
1840, a census return was tenfold larger than it had been in 1804.
This rapid growth was due, less to the famous wells and pump-rooms than to
the reputation of its climate, and the absence of any great winter severity,
attractive to those who had lived in tropical countries. Hence Cheltenham
became a favourite residence for Anglo-Indians, military and civil. The town
grew perhaps a little less distinguished, but not less gay and popular. The
fashion in Cheltenham waters passed; kings and dukes sought their ‘cure’
abroad; but it was possible to have balls and other amusements without a Prince
Regent, while the hunting season especially became a time of festivity. And side
by side with the lovers of pleasure, who formed so large and sparkling a part of

Cheltenham society, existed those who took all life with deep, almost forbidding
seriousness.
To meet the needs of the rapidly growing population during the first forty
years of the nineteenth century, several churches were built under the auspices
of different persons. Church-building in the days of proprietary sittings was a
not unprofitable investment; there were also liberal benefactors to support Mr.
Close, who was incumbent of Cheltenham for nearly thirty years, in his
schemes for the welfare of his flock.
Francis Close, a disciple of Charles Simeon, came to Cheltenham in 1824, as
curate-in-charge of Holy Trinity, a newly erected chapel-of-ease to the parish
church. The living of Cheltenham was already at that time in the hands of
Simeon, who had purchased it from its various patrons, and presented it to the
Reverend C. Jervis. On the death of Mr. Jervis, Simeon appointed young Close
to this important charge. From the first Mr. Close was a very popular preacher.
‘It was,’ says an admirer, ‘a new and interesting sight to see so singularly
handsome a young man filled with such religious zeal.’ A man of pronounced
and narrow views, immense activity and determination, combined with
geniality and cheerfulness, he sought to regulate the ways of society, and to
some extent succeeded. He ruled the town from the pulpit of the parish church
as from a throne, and earned, among those who loved him least, the name of the
‘Pope of Cheltenham.’[33] He preached against racing, acting, dancing. But if, as
has been said, he established dinner-parties and destroyed the theatre, he acted
only with others of his school of thought. Those were the days of eating and
drinking, since some form of recreation was necessary, and, moreover,
abstinence had a suspiciously Roman look. They were days when all forms of
art, not that of the theatre alone, were regarded with distrust. It is true that Mr.
Close gave a lecture on ‘Literature and the Fine Arts considered as Legitimate
Pursuits of a Religious Man’; he also preached a sermon entitled ‘The
Restoration of Churches is the Restoration of Popery,’ and he said to the head-
mistress of a fashionable boarding-school where dancing was included in the
curriculum: ‘When Mrs. Close wished my daughters taught dancing, I reminded
her of her marriage vow.’
Mr. Close’s energies took visible and permanent shape in the buildings which
arose during his long incumbency. Eight churches grew up around the parish
church, but that, alas! was not their model. Most of the new ones displayed all
the worst features of a debased style of church architecture: a diminutive
chancel, three-decker arrangements for parson and clerk, high pews, with safe
doors for the congregation.

National schools were built, and training colleges founded, also under the
direction of Mr. Close, and he took his share in the institution of the Proprietary
College for Boys, in 1843.
With the new churches came new clergy, among whom, the most popular
name at the time, was that of Archibald Boyd, vicar of Christchurch, a very
eloquent preacher who brought the little schoolroom in the hamlet of Alstone,
where he lectured on Sunday evenings, into rivalry with the parish church. To-
day, he is famous for having had as his curate, for five years, the young
Frederick Robertson, whose afternoon sermons at Christchurch, in spite of the
suspicion of unorthodoxy which early began to attach itself to his name, drew
many thoughtful hearers, such as the Principal of Cheltenham College.
The most leading mind at the time among the younger clergy was that of
Charles Henry Bromby, who became vicar of St. Paul’s in 1843. He was a man
of large mental gifts, and had special perception of the intellectual needs of his
day. The Working Men’s Club, which he established in his parish, was among
the very first in the country. All the great educational institutions of Cheltenham
are indebted to his outlook and zeal. Joint-founder of Cheltenham College, and
later, though he took no public part and earned no name in the matter, of that for
‘Young Ladies and Children,’ his most active interest and work was for the
teaching of the poor. He became first Principal of the Training Colleges[34] for
headmasters and mistresses of national schools, starting the work on wise and
secure lines, and rapidly bringing it to the front among that of kindred
institutions.
Mr. Bellairs was actively as well as zealously associated with Mr. Bromby in
all the great schemes, by which Cheltenham, rich and poor, was to be
enlightened, and in the case of the Proprietary College for Ladies, it is his name
which comes to the front, and it was in his house that the first meeting to draw
up its constitution was held.
There was every reason to hope that a high-class day-school for girls, then
almost unknown, might succeed in Cheltenham, where parents had had a
successful experience of such a school for their boys. Everywhere, people, who
cared about a good education for girls, found it difficult to obtain even at great
cost. Many liked to keep their children with them; those who were indifferent
would be glad to avail themselves of the cheaper method of the day-school,
provided it could be run on exclusive lines. There had been for some years in
the town, select boarding schools, where a few day-scholars were received. The

advantage over these of a large public school, necessarily of a more permanent
character than a small private institution could be, was obvious.
At the meeting in the house of Mr. Bellairs, on September 30, 1853, a date
which Miss Beale has noted as the birthday of the Ladies’ College, there were
present but three others. These were the Reverend W. Dobson, Principal of
Cheltenham College, the Reverend H. A. Holden, Vice-Principal, and Dr. S. E.
Comyn. One other gentleman should be named among these early builders,
namely, Mr. Nathaniel Hartland. Colonel Fitzmaurice was also a member of the
first council.
The founders of this college and day-school for girls were anxious to make it
clear that their aim was to develop in the pupils character and fitness for the
duties of later life. Hence the first report states that it was intended ‘to afford, on
reasonable terms, an education based upon religious principles which,
preserving the modesty and gentleness of the female character, should so far
cultivate [a girl’s] intellectual powers as to fit her for the discharge of those
responsible duties which devolve upon her as a wife, mother, mistress and
friend, the natural companion and helpmeet for man.’ In framing the
constitutions Mr. Bellairs and his colleagues had before their minds the
successful College for Boys, and adopted its rules with regard to religious
instruction, and the social rank of the pupils.
The draft of the resolutions, made at the first meeting, may still be read.
Hardly less remarkable than the development of later days is the permanent
nature of the impress given to the College at its first start. Some of the
resolutions were:—

‘That an Institution for the daughters and young children of
Noblemen and Gentlemen be established in Cheltenham, and be
entitled the Cheltenham College for the education of young
Ladies and Children.
‘The College to be established by means of one hundred
shares of £10 each; the possessor of each share to have the
power of nominating a Pupil, and a vote at annual and special
meetings.
...
‘That the management of the College for the ensuing year
shall be vested in the Founders, viz.... who for this purpose shall

be constituted the Committee of Management after the
expiration of the first year, exclusive of the Treasurer and
Honorary Secretary, who will be ex officio members of the
Board, they being shareholders and members of the Church of
England....
‘That the College be under the direction of a Principal, a
Lady from whom the pupils will receive religious instruction at
appointed times in accordance with the doctrine and the
teaching of the Church of England....
‘That at the end of each year the pupils be examined by
competent persons appointed by the Committee.
‘That the College shall consist of two departments, the Junior
for children of both sexes, admissible after five years of age, the
boys to be removed when they have attained their eighth year.
‘The appointment of the Lady Principal and all subordinate
teachers and officers to be vested in the Committee.’

With few alterations these resolutions passed into the prospectus issued to the
public in November 1853, an exact copy of which will be found in the
appendix.[35] Experimental prospectuses, which never left the hands of the
Committee, exist to show how the founders formed and modified their views
for the College. It was proposed at one time to have a noble patron and a visitor,
besides the working Committee; but as Miss Beale somewhat whimsically
relates, this was found to be impracticable. ‘It was thought that it would add to
the prestige of the College, and diminish the prejudice which then existed, to
have a distinguished patron, and so Lord de Saumerez, then resident in
Cheltenham, was applied to, but in vain. So there was no Patron.’[36] There was
also no visitor until 1875, when Dr. Ellicott, then Bishop of Gloucester, kindly
undertook the charge. The difficulty of securing patronage was probably what
caused the Council, in virtue of one of their own rules, to invite Mr. Close to
accept the office of President, with a seat at the Board. At the same time Mr.
Bellairs was appointed Vice-President.
In the first instance it was intended that the College should be confined to
day-scholars; then, in case this restriction should limit the scope of the work and
perhaps injure it financially, a sort of half-measure was planned, and it was
proposed to state that: ‘the Committee will not interfere with any arrangements

made by the Parents and Friends of pupils for Boarding their Children, provided
the numbers in any given Boarding-House do not exceed six. Should Boarding-
Houses ever be opened offering accommodation to a greater number of pupils
than six, the Committee reserve to themselves the power of insisting upon and
conferring a License, before Children in such Boarding-Houses be allowed the
privilege of becoming Students in the College.’
As early as the 1st of November three ladies had been found to undertake
boarding-houses, and they were not restricted as to numbers. The low terms of
the boarding-houses (£40 a year including all expenses, of course without the
tuition fees) suggest that the ideas of the liberal-minded Committee may have
forestalled those of the future Lady Principal, ever eager to help on those who
deserved but could not afford education. The tuition fees were on the same low
scale; from six guineas to twenty guineas, and including pianoforte lessons,
class singing, elementary drawing and needlework, besides English subjects and
French.
Shares had been taken up to the number of one hundred and fifty-seven, so
the Council had enough money at their disposal to justify the necessary initial
outlay. After an unsuccessful effort to obtain Lake House, which its owner
declined to let for the purposes of a school, Cambray House, a fine old
Georgian building with a beautiful garden, was taken at a rent of £200 a year.
Some hundreds of pounds were spent in making this house suitable for its
purpose, arranging a schoolroom (40 by 30 feet), a system of heating, and so on,
while a part of it was set aside as a residence for the Lady Principal. The
Committee appointed in this capacity Mrs. Procter, widow of Colonel Procter,
‘a highly educated officer,’ but her daughter Annie Procter, who was called
Vice-Principal, was the actual head of the College. ‘The former,’ ran the first
report, ‘is possessed of that age and experience which are necessary for the
training of the young; the latter of that youth and vigour which are necessary for
teaching.’ A younger sister had the post of assistant secretary, and several
regular teachers and professors were also appointed.

Cambray House.
From an old engraving.

The College was actually opened on February 13, 1854, the pupils, eighty-
two in number, having been examined a week before that date. Thus the
inauguration ceremony was the actual beginning of work. When writing her
Jubilee history of the College, Miss Beale collected reminiscences from some
who were present on the opening day. Nothing more impressive was
forthcoming than a scrimmage of dogs in the cloak-room, the calling over of
names, followed by immediate sorting into classes already arranged as a result
of the examination, and that ‘various old gentlemen promenaded about the first
few days, and held conclaves in a Board-Room on the right hand of the front
door.’ The age of the pupils varied considerably from that of tiny mites to that of
grown-up girls. They were arranged in different departments, the lowest being a
kind of infant school on raised benches.
At first the numbers increased rapidly, and by the end of the year there were
one hundred and twenty pupils. But the fees were too low, and the Committee
soon had cause for anxiety over expenses. In the first year, 1854, more than
£1300 was expended in regular salaries and in payments to visiting teachers; the

accounts in December showed a deficit of £400. Matters improved but slowly in
1855, and in order to lessen expenses, various changes were suggested, such as
the substitution of German, which the Vice-Principal could teach, for Latin, and
an arrangement by which the pianoforte should be taught on a class system. In
the general meeting of that year, it was resolved no longer to admit boys to the
College, and with them disappeared the whole of the infant department, not to
reappear till the Kindergarten was opened in 1882.
This change led to a slight diminution of numbers, and the report of the year
1856 (published in and dated February 1857), while it embodied many words of
praise from the examiners and showed a balance of receipts above expenditure
in the current expenses, yet breathed a consciousness of many difficulties and
obstacles to be overcome. It was acknowledged that had it been desirable to
purchase furniture for the Lady Principal instead of paying her £25 a year for
the use of her own, it could not have been done from the funds in hand. ‘In
conclusion,’ said the Chairman, ‘your Council beg to express their thanks to
those parents who, during the past year, have continued to place confidence in
the College and its system. On their own part and on that of the Lady Principal
and the Vice-Principal, they desire to assure the public that no efforts shall be
wanting on their part to amend what may appear, on mature consideration, to be
defective.... They cannot depart from their fundamental principle, which, as
they stated, is soundness rather than show; magna est veritas et prævalebit.’
Next year, 1857, the numbers crept down, first to ninety-three, then to eighty-
nine, and the capital account, which had never gone up, was little above £400.
Shares which should have been £10, were offered for half that sum. The want of
success was partly due to want of harmony between Miss Procter and the
Council on points of educational method. In May 1858, when the numbers were
again reduced, and the prospect of improvement very small, the Procters
resigned; also the ladies who took boarders one by one gave up. So poor was
the outlook for the College at this time that the Council might have felt justified
in abandoning the whole scheme. Fortunately, however, those who possessed
the foresight and courage, which could still carry it on, were supported by the
circumstance that the lease of Cambray House had a couple more years to run.
So it came to pass that in May 1858, within a fortnight of Miss Procter’s
resignation, the Council advertised for a Lady Principal thus:—

Cheltenham Ladies’ College

‘A Vacancy having occurred in the Office of Lady Principal,
Candidates for the Appointment are requested to apply by letter
(with references) before the 1st of June, to J. P. Bell, Esq., Hon.
Sec., Cheltenham.
‘A well-educated and experienced Lady (between the ages of
35 and 45) is desired, capable of conducting an Institution with
not less than 100 day-pupils.
‘A competent knowledge of German and French, and a good
acquaintance with general English Literature, Arithmetic, and
the common branches of female education, are expected.
‘Salary, upwards of £200 a year, with furnished apartments,
and other advantages.
‘No Testimonials to be sent until applied for, and no answers
will be returned except to Candidates apparently eligible.’

The shareholders requested a general meeting in order to receive an
explanation of the cause which led to the resignation of Miss Procter, and this
was convened for June 2. The Committee was occupied during the fortnight
which succeeded this in selecting and interviewing some of the fifty candidates
for the Headship, and Miss Beale was elected on June 13. In July Miss Procter
took her final leave in the following letter to Mr. Hartland:—

Glendale House, July 28, 1858.
‘My dear Sir,—I thank you much for your kind letter
enclosing your cheque for £41, 10s. 6d.
‘I take this opportunity of sending you the keys of the
College. The house has been cleaned throughout. The Chimneys
have all been swept.
‘Some few stores,—nearly a ¼ cwt. of soap, some dip
candles, and two new scrubbing brushes,—are in a closet in the
pantry.
‘The new zinc ventilator is in the press used for the drawing
materials.
‘Two cast-iron fenders, of mine, have been removed from
two of the class-rooms.—I remain, my dear Sir, yours very

sincerely,
S. Anne Procter.’

Miss Beale heard of a vacancy on the staff of the Ladies’ College in January
1858, when a Queen’s College friend, Miss Mulcaster, wrote her a letter
interesting for the glimpses it gives both of Casterton and Cheltenham.

‘I am anxious,’ the letter ran, ‘that you should as soon as
possible receive this letter, which is the very earliest reply in my
power to make to yours.... I cannot feel very sorry on your own
account for your leaving Casterton, although I do so at the
manner of it.... I am very glad that you feel the discipline and
teaching have been useful to you. I do not know that anything
better could be desired for you than a return to Queen’s, but I
have something, or rather a shadow of something I wish you to
know in case you are disappointed there. I believe a place in the
Ladies’ College at Cheltenham is vacant, and if so it might suit
you. Miss Procter the Superintendent and many of the
Committee are considered High Church. Miss Brewer, I am
sure, would be very much pleased to hear from you, and I think
would be disposed to facilitate your appointment, if there is still
a vacancy. She, being one of the teachers, could answer any
inquiries better than I. There is no home provided for the
teachers by the Committee, but they have hitherto made private
arrangements to live together.
‘Cheltenham, to my mind, presents unusual advantages as a
place of residence; combining those of town and country, and
last but not least those to be derived from Canon Boyd’s
ministry and dear Mr. Bromby’s. I could give you some
introductions, but it is too soon to talk of those things yet....’

Miss Beale must have answered this, and probably wrote at the same time to
Miss Brewer, whom she had known at Queen’s; but there are no further letters
existing on the subject. But she herself told in later life that she declined to
apply for the post as she had resolved to seek a Headship. There is no mention
of Cheltenham in the diary until May, but it appears that other schools were
either applied for or considered. On February 17 we have ‘For school at

Holloway.’ On February 18, ‘A letter from a Greenwich school.’ This was
perhaps visited on the 22nd, when the diary mentions a journey to Greenwich;
but it is not named again. On March 2 we find ‘Mamma wrote to Mrs. Birch
about school at Reigate.’ On March 24, ‘Talked to Mr. Hyde about College at
Camberwell.’ This possibly appears again in the record of April 17: ‘Mary
decides against Camberwell scheme.’
A letter mentioned in Miss Beale’s diary as received from Cheltenham on
May 18 was doubtless in answer to her application, after the advertisement had
appeared, to inform her that she was accepted as a candidate for the vacant
Headship. The record of the next few weeks, brief as it is, bears marks of the
zeal and activity with which everything possible was done to procure
testimonials and the recommendations of friends; while, at the same time, the
work went on at Barnes, and the sheets of the Textbook were passing through
the press. The writer was obviously full of anxiety and hope, having perceived
in Cheltenham a promising sphere of work; but she did not relax the daily
spiritual combat to which we owe the existence of the diary.
On receipt of a favourable answer she went at once to see Mr. Plumptre, and
wrote to Dr. Trench. After the Casterton experience it was necessary to have
further recommendations than those which she had taken there from Queen’s
College. Among the friends to whom she wrote was Mrs. Lancaster, who
replied by return:—

‘Englemere, Whit. Tues., 1858.
‘I am very sorry that you did not tell me about Cheltenham
before: I am one of the Proprietors! or Committee or
something! and my brother is Vice-Principal—indeed he almost
established it. I have now written to him telling him my
thoughts as to the maturity of your mind and judgment, and I
hope it may be successful. If you are not quite determined
against Penitentiary work there is a very nice thing for a Lady
Superintendent ... about which the Hon. and Rev. C. Harris ...
would give you full particulars.... It is worked by a Committee,
but the Lady Superintendent would be allowed to do as she
liked....’

In the course of the next fortnight many more letters were received. Among
them one from Miss Elwall of the Barnes School. She wrote:—

‘ ... You have succeeded in making subjects usually styled
dry, positively attractive, whilst your plan has been successful
in forming not merely superficial scholars even whilst
producing results in a remarkably short period.
‘Your gentleness of manner, patience, and lady-like
deportment are all that could be desired, and should you leave
me I shall feel the greatest regret at the termination of an
engagement which has been equally agreeable to myself and to
my pupils.—I am, dear Miss Beale, with much esteem, yours
most sincerely,
M. J. Elwall.’

One from Mrs. Curling, the wife of Dr. Curling, an eminent physician and her
father’s friend, runs:—

‘39 Grosvenor Street, June 12, 1858.
‘ ... I shall be truly happy if any recommendation of mine can
promote your success. I have had the pleasure of knowing you
many years, and in your journeys with me abroad I have had
frequent opportunities of witnessing your tact and common
sense, as well as good temper, and believe you to possess in
addition the power of management essential for such an
appointment. I am sure that the College would be fortunate in
obtaining your assistance.’

Some friends wrote direct to the Cheltenham Council. The testimony borne to
Miss Beale’s high character is genuine and strong, if quaintly expressed
according to present-day notions in some of these. Mr. Shepheard wrote:—

‘Silverdale, June 1858.
‘I have the greatest pleasure in expressing my high opinion of
Miss Beale’s character and attainments generally. Though she
holds opinions on the subject of sacramental grace entirely
opposed to my own, it is no more than her due that I should say
that her high sense of duty, and inflexible integrity of principle,

and conscientious following of the path of duty without regard
to consequences, have won my highest respect and esteem.
‘The circumstances under which she left the Clergy
Daughters’ School in this place, were such, that I cannot speak
of them in detail, out of unwillingness to reflect on the conduct
of the authorities there, but I consider her dismissal by them to
have been highly honourable to herself.
‘As a Teacher, I have reason to believe that she is very highly
accomplished and has been very successful—though I say this
from general impressions only.
H. Shepheard, M.A.
Incumbent of Casterton, late Fellow of Oriel College,
Oxford, and late Head Master of Cheam School, Surrey.’

and Miss Reynolds privately approached Mr. Bellairs:—

‘Trinity Terrace, Cheltenham.
‘A friend has asked me whether I can do anything to advance
the interests of Miss Beale....
‘Miss Beale is not personally known to me, but from all I
have heard she is a very conscientious and hard-working
person, as well as one whose attainments are very high in most
and I believe all of the departments necessary for the successful
discharge of so important an office. Whether her talents for
government correspond with her educational skill, and her very
high religious and moral character, I know not; but I have been
anxious to fulfil her wish in drawing your attention to her
application, which she feared might be overlooked as one
among many.

The most interesting of this series of letters is one from Miss Alston to Mrs.
Lancaster. This, through Mr. Bellairs, undoubtedly helped to influence the
Council, whose members were wise enough to seek for character as much as
attainment in the new Head. Others had dwelt on Miss Beale’s talent and power
and single-hearted devotion to her calling; Miss Alston could also speak of her
life and value at home.

‘Donnington Rectory, June 12, 1858.
‘ ... I heard from Miss Beale this morning that the
Cheltenham College had written for her testimonials. I hope she
may obtain the appointment she desires, it seems one for which
she is so well qualified. Of her power of teaching others, and
making them delight in their studies, there is no doubt. But you
do not know her as I do, in her home and daily life; there all
look up to her and seek her counsel. Our friendship commenced
when we were eighteen; since that time I have not only profited,
I trust, by the instruction she has given me in the pursuit of
various studies, but I have always consulted her on all my plans,
where the welfare of others has been concerned, and have found
her counsel full of common sense and kind consideration for the
feelings of those we desired to help or instruct. She is good-
tempered and has plenty of tact, but shows instantly her dislike
to anything untrue in word or act. Forgive this long letter, but I
thought you might have some influence, and I am much
interested for my friend, and at the same time feel that I should
rather place any one I loved under her than with any one else I
have met. With kind regards,—Believe me yours very sincerely,
Eliza Ann Alston.’

On June 14 came a letter summoning Miss Beale to Cheltenham. Her diary
does not tell us where she stayed, or give any particulars of the interviews she
had with the Council as a body, or with individuals. It records her election on
the 16th, and the fact that Mr. Bellairs came to breakfast on the 17th. On the
same day she saw Mr. Hartland and Dr. Comyn. By the single word ‘dress,’
which concludes her meagre entries of what were such momentous events for
her, hangs a little tale of personal need supplied by the kind thought of a sister
who willingly lent a blue silk gown for the would-be Lady Principal to wear at
her first interview with her Council. Absorption in the Textbook and kindred
subjects had precluded care of the writer’s wardrobe, and when this important
moment came, it was felt that neither the simple black nor the mouse-coloured
grey was equal to the occasion. The conscientious care of the borrowed plumes
is still remembered.
On June 18 she returned from Cheltenham, full of hope, to write innumerable
letters—stamps, under their ancient name of ‘heads,’ became almost a daily

entrance in the diary, which sometimes served as account-book;—to finish the
lessons at Barnes, for the school year had not yet ended; and to correct the
proofs of the Textbook, with the satisfaction of feeling that she had in it
something that would help in the formation of her teachers-to-be. She received
many congratulations. Some letters were kept; Mr. Shepheard’s is given, as it
bears upon a subject which was about to cause fresh trouble.

‘Silverdale, June 24, 1858.
‘ ... I must tell you how pleased I am on your account
personally, at your success—and the triumph of justice in your
case over unfairness and tyranny. My pleasure would be indeed
great, if I had any hope that you might be led to reconsider
those opinions on sacramental grace which have formed the
only subject of division in opinion between us. The longer I live
the more I am convinced of their danger as containing in fact
the germ of all popery; and subverting the very nature and
essence of vital godliness, by substituting the form for the
reality, the outward act for the inward spiritual power and
operation.
‘I wish you would read Mr. Litton’s book, The Church of
Christ, on that subject; it is unanswerable.
‘What is exactly the name and nature of your College?—Very
sincerely yours with all kindest regards,
H. Shepheard.’

There were also through these weeks a good many interchanged visits on
matters both of business and pleasure. The name of Miss Vincent occurs twice
among others mentioned in the diary. This is the lady who in August of 1858
became Lady Superintendent at Casterton, and remained there till 1888, when
she died there in harness at the age of seventy-five.
Dorothea Beale was not, however, destined to take possession of her
kingdom without a conflict. The old religious dispute was handed on from
Casterton, for Mr. Shepheard, with one other whose name does not appear, felt
he could not but mention the points he held to be ‘dangerous’ in her religious
beliefs. And there was certainly still another letter to discourage the Council,
from M. Mariette to Mr. Penrice Bell, questioning Miss Beale’s suitability for

the post of Head Mistress on the ground that she was not sympathetic in
manner. This appears to have been disregarded, but the partisans of Dean Close
felt bound to consider the accusation of High Church opinions. Miss Beale first
learned of the opposition which had arisen to her appointment on July 12, in the
following letter from Mr. Bell:—

‘July 10, 1858.
‘Dear Miss Beale,—Letters have been put into my hand to-
day which cause me much anxiety, and before consulting the
Council upon the subject, I think it best to communicate with
you, begging an immediate reply in the same spirit of unreserve
and candour and frankness as that in which I now write.
‘When here I took pains to impress upon your mind the fact
that the Council could not in justice to those whom they
represent accept a Lady Principal who holds High Church views
or sympathises with them; and that they had rejected most
satisfactory testimonials from one of the candidates solely on
the ground of her professing doctrinal views of that character. I
was thus explicit with you in order to prevent any
misunderstanding upon this most important question, but
nothing fell from your lips to lead me to suppose you were open
to an objection of that nature. I forbore from motives of
delicacy (and probably the other members of the Council did
the same), to press this subject upon you in the shape of direct
enquiry, feeling sure you would not conceal your real views if
they were indeed such as I plainly stated to be opposed to those
entertained by the founders of the institution. The letters are
marked “Private,” so I am not at liberty to name the writers, but
I will quote the material portions; and I may remark that both
gentlemen speak in the highest terms of your qualifications in
general.
‘“She, Miss Beale, is very High Church to say the least, and
holds ultra views of Baptismal Regeneration.” ... “She has also
a serious and deep religious feeling, and a self-denying
character. But she is decidedly High Church. Her opinions on
the vital and critical question of sacramental grace are
altogether those of the High Church or Tractarian School—

assuming the opus operatum of the Sacraments to convey, of
necessity and in all cases, the inward grace of which that
Sacrament is the sign.”
‘“It is right to add that Miss Beale avows her belief in the
Bible as the rule of faith.”
‘Now you have undoubtedly full right to entertain such
opinions as in your conscience you believe to be true, but at the
same time you are (and were) bound in honour of good faith, on
such occasion as the offering of yourself for the important
position to which you have been recently appointed, to avow
your opinions openly and distinctly; especially when made
acquainted with the views of those responsible for your
selection.
‘If it be the fact that you do hold opinions such as are
attributed to you, it is clear that you will not only inflict serious
injury on the Institution, but also on yourself, by assuming the
office—for if you hold us to the appointment the Council would
and must, I imagine, at once give you the three months’ notice
(or salary equivalent), and cancel it at the earliest period,
publishing their reasons for so extraordinary a step. If, however,
you are misrepresented, I shall heartily rejoice on every
account, but I beg of you, by return of post, to favour me with a
definite reply to the two questions I feel it now my duty to put
to you:—
‘1st. Do you or do you not hold the doctrine of the opus
operatum in the Sacrament of Baptism?
‘2nd. Do you or not sympathise with and are attached to the
principles of the High Church party?—Believe me to remain,
yours very truly,
J. Penrice Bell, Hon. Sec.
‘PS.—I think it better not to print the Prospectus until the
present difficulty is settled in some way.’

This letter, which must have come as a bolt from the blue, was a blow, but
not of a crushing nature to one whose energies were ever braced by conflict.
Miss Beale wrote at once to Mr. Bellairs to tell him what had happened, and to

Mr. Bell in answer to his attack. Both letters are given, as they clearly state her
religious position. To Mr. Bellairs she wrote:—

‘31 Finsbury Square, July 12.
‘ ... Although our acquaintance has been very short, owing to
the kindness with which you received me, I cannot help
considering you in some measure as a friend, and feeling that
you will understand me: perhaps, also, your office both as
Clergyman and Vice-President of the Cheltenham Ladies’
College gives me some right to trouble you upon this occasion.
‘I received this morning a note from Mr. Bell, accusing me of
want of candour in not speaking of my religious views,
although they were in no way alluded to by the Council, and
telling me he has been informed that my opinions are those of
the Tractarian School. Now, as I have never seen more than a
few pages of the “Tracts,” I cannot positively contradict such a
statement. I have explained somewhat at large to him what are
my opinions; I will not repeat them to you, as you will no doubt
see the letter. That my views differ considerably from those of
the ultra-evangelical party, of which Mr. Carus Wilson is one of
the leaders, and the Record the accredited organ, I freely
acknowledge; but I think them those of a moderate member of
the English Church, and on seeing your name as Vice-President,
I concluded the Ladies’ College was not identified with any
exclusive party. I have endeavoured to be perfectly candid, for I
could not undertake so great a work without the hope of God’s
blessing. Should my own letter not be considered decisive
evidence against me, perhaps you would think it worth while to
write to Mrs. Lancaster or Mrs. Greene (with whom I think you
said you were acquainted). With both of them I have spoken
freely on religious subjects, and they would tell you whether
they believed my opinions to be extreme. As nothing is farther
from my wishes than to deceive the Council, I forward to you
by this post two books, which I have published without my
name—not because I was ashamed of expressing what I thought
right, but because one naturally shrinks from exposing without
necessity one’s inner religious life. I feel this more especially
with regard to the smaller book, which I must therefore ask you

not to mention to others. I send them to you, because they may
assist you in coming to a right conclusion, whether for or
against my retaining the post to which I have been appointed,
and I think the Council will be in a great measure guided by
your decision.’

To Mr. Penrice Bell:—

‘31 Finsbury Square, July 12, 1858.
‘On looking at the Prospectus of the Casterton School, I saw
on the Committee the names of those who professed ultra-
evangelical views; I therefore felt it my duty distinctly to
explain, before accepting the appointment, wherein my opinions
differed from those which I knew them to hold. It was after I
had made that statement that I was appointed. On looking at the
papers of the Cheltenham College, I found the name of Mr.
Close in conjunction with that of Mr. Bellairs and others. From
this and what I had heard privately I was led to conclude that
you were not identified with any particular party in the Church;
that your views were not more exclusive than those of the
Educational Committee of Queen’s College, who had expressed
themselves satisfied with my teaching. I also placed in your
hands a testimonial from the Professor of Theology there; my
opinion was still further strengthened by your accepting the
recommendation of the Dean of Westminster and including the
Liturgy of the Church of England amongst the subjects taught.
‘Believing myself to hold moderate, certainly not ultra, views
I did not feel myself open to the charge brought against me after
my appointment. I think you will remember the subject of
religion was in no way alluded to before.
‘Having thus, I hope, justified myself from any accusation of
want of candour, I proceed to answer your questions as briefly
as I can.
‘If you understand by the opus operatum “efficacy” of
Baptism,—that all who are baptized are therefore saved (a
doctrine which Mr. Shepheard assured me was held by some), I
explicitly state that I do not hold that doctrine. I believe

Baptism to be “an outward and visible sign of an inward and
spiritual grace given unto us” (Catechism); to be the appointed
means for admitting members into the Church of Christ,
according to St. Paul’s teaching that “Christ gave Himself for
the Church that He might save it and cleanse it by the washing
of water by the word” (Eph. v. 26); that “according to His
mercy we are saved by the washing of regeneration and
renewing of the Holy Ghost” (Tit. iii. 5); that we are therein
made “members of Christ” and adopted “children of God”; but
when I use the word “regeneration” I do not understand that
spoken of by St. John when he says, “he that is born of God
cannot sin,” but that gift of life without which we are unable
even to think any good thing; a gift which the Bishop solemnly
declares to have been already received by those who come to be
confirmed (Confirmation Service), but which requires daily
renewal, a gift which we may lose by grieving God’s Holy
Spirit by neglecting the means of grace, by hiding our Lord’s
treasure. And this teaching I hold because I find it in the Bible,
which I acknowledge with the sixth article to be our only rule of
faith—because it seems to me the basis of St. Paul’s teaching (1
Cor. iii.; 2 Cor. vi. 10)—and it makes our responsibilities higher
and deeper if we acknowledge with the Apostle in the language
which he used to the whole of the Corinthian Church, that we
are “the temples of the Holy Ghost.” I feel that any partial
views which tell us of God’s grace being given to some and not
to others are contrary to the whole tenor of Scripture. Your
second question again cannot be categorically answered, since it
has never been defined what are the opinions of the High
Church party; I would say that I differ from some who assume
that title....[37] I think no one could entertain a greater dread
than I of those Romish opinions entertained by some “who went
out from us, but were not of us”; indeed during the last six
months I have been engaged in preparing an English History for
the use of schools, because Ince’s Outlines (a book used in your
College) inculcates Romish doctrines.
‘In conclusion, I must apologize for the unmethodical way in
which I have expressed myself, as I am writing in great haste to
catch the next post, and I have thought it right to reply to you
without consulting any person or book, except the Bible and

Prayer Book. I have endeavoured to be perfectly candid;—
should the Council decide that my views are so unsound that I
am unfit to occupy the position to which I have been appointed,
I shall trust that they will allow me to make as public a
statement of my opinions as they are obliged to make of my
dismissal, for I shall feel that after this no person of moderate
views will trust me, and my own conscience would not allow
me to work with the extreme party in either high or low
church.’

The diary of these two days gives a hint of the anxiety Miss Beale underwent
when the attack was made upon her, and before she could receive answers to
her own letters:—

‘July 12.—Mr. B(ell)’s letter about H(igh) Church from
Cheltenham, and my answer. Some vanity. (Prayer) for
resignation.
‘July 13.—Sent proofs to Cheltenham. Dined at the Curlings.
Dr. Clarke very agreeable. Felt angry with Mr. Shepheard.’

Mr. Bell’s reply to Miss Beale’s letter suggests that the difficulty before the
Council was less directly one of religious principle than that of working a
school where certain precise opinions were not professed.

‘July 13, 1858.
‘My dear Miss Beale,—I have to-day laid your reply before
Mr. Hartland and Dr. Comyn, the only two of my colleagues
now here, and we have no fault to find with its tenor, which is
explicit enough. Whether or not the fact of your holding the
opinions thus avowed will lead to difficulties hereafter, we
cannot say. If you feel conscientiously bound in and out of class
to make known and inculcate your distinctive views of doctrine
according to your interpretation of scripture and of our Liturgy
and Articles, then it is easy to foresee the result. If, however (as
I hope), you regard it of primary importance in the instruction
of the children to inculcate love to God and His Son, and
charity (in its manifold phases and with its relative duties),

towards our fellows—treating as of far minor importance the
doctrinal points about which good men differ so widely,—then I
should not anticipate any active opposition from those to whom
your peculiar opinions may be known.
‘The gentleman (a resident clergyman of some influence) to
whom the two quoted letters were addressed, is now absent for
a few days; and it remains to be seen whether his scruples and
objections are, if not removed, at least rendered quiescent by
your reply. If he should withdraw his children, and make known
the grounds of doing so, the effect would undoubtedly be
prejudicial to the College, and the experiment of conducting it
under your auspices might be futile. Much may depend on what
answer you can conscientiously make to this question:—
Holding the opinions you have expressed, should you
consider it a duty and feel it incumbent on you to inculcate
them in your Divinity instruction to the pupils?
If you could favour me by a few lines by return of post (as I
leave before post hour on Friday morning) on this point, which
I can annex to your letter of to-day, I could see my colleagues
on the subject once more, and arrange what shall be done in my
absence.—Yours truly,
J. Penrice Bell, Hon. Sec.’

Among Miss Beale’s papers exists an undated and much erased note, which
appears to be her answer to the above. It begins with the remark: ‘I am glad to
find the Council has not decided that I am so great a heretic as from your first
letter I feared they would’; and it closes with the statement: ‘I quite feel it to be
a Christian duty, if it be possible to live peaceably with all men, not giving heed
to those things which minister questions rather than godly edifying, but I am
sure you will feel I should be unworthy of your confidence could I through any
fear of consequences resort to the least untruthfulness.’ Meanwhile Mr. Bellairs
also wrote:—

‘ ... Mr. Bell’s letter was, I imagine, of a private character, as
I had heard nothing of the subject of it before the arrival of your
note of to-day.

‘So far as I am concerned, my impression is that we of the
Council have nothing to do now with your private Theological
opinions, whatever they are, unless they are so extreme as
would damage the College (and within tolerably wide limits, I
individually am very indifferent on the matter). I trust you have
good sense and propriety sufficient to induce you to avoid all
teaching which would in any degree disturb the character which
the College ought, in my opinion, to maintain: viz. a place of
learning in which all members of the Church of England may
receive religious instruction in an honest and straightforward
way, according to the teaching of the Bible and the formularies
of the Church, without extreme interpretation one way or the
other. I shall probably hear more of this matter when I see Mr.
Bell.’

The storm was over. Though individuals of quite opposing views would, later
on, occasionally cavil at points in Miss Beale’s method of teaching Scripture,
she never really experienced further trouble on this ground. There are many, like
the unknown lady to whose ‘High Church’ opinions the Council took objection,
who would have felt they could not work in the spirit of compromise implied in
the letters of Mr. Bell and Mr. Bellairs. There are some who might have agreed
to do so, and in terror of offending, would have shirked the difficult task of
religious instruction to the point of making it a lifeless thing. Miss Beale
undertook it with her eyes open, and in spite, or possibly because of the
hindrances in the way, her Scripture lessons became the very pivot of her
teaching.
The diary again is very characteristic at this point. The anxiety of mind
caused by her trouble was not permitted to excuse ill-temper. ‘July 4. Letter
from Cheltenham. Neglect of prayer. Several times rude.’ This was the day
which practically settled the fate of the Ladies’ College, and was the greatest
visible landmark in Miss Beale’s life. In the ensuing fortnight, the last she spent
at home, though there is an entry for every day, the name of Cheltenham does
not occur. Two visits from Miss Brewer, who had been re-appointed to the
Cheltenham staff with the title of Vice-Principal, ‘shopping,’ and ‘turning out,’
suggest preparations. There is no entry of the day on which she went, but from
deduction it was August 4, and in the company of her mother.

CHAPTER VI
EARLY HISTORY OF THE LADIES’ COLLEGE

‘Old fables are not all a lie
Which tell of wondrous birth;
Of Titan children, Father Sky,
And wondrous Mother Earth.

Earth-born, my sister, thou art still
A daughter of the sky;
Oh, climb for ever up the hill
Of thy divinity.

...

For cause and end of all thy strife,
And unrest as thou art—
Still stings thee to a higher life
The Father at thy heart.’

George Macdonald, To my Sister,
on her Twenty-first Birthday.

Cambray House, which was Miss Beale’s home for fifteen years, is one of the
finest buildings erected in the period when Cheltenham was being laid out with
a view to royal visits. The Duke of Wellington himself stayed there in 1823.

Miss Dorothea Beale
1859.

The garden, mentioned in the early College reports as the ‘pleasure grounds,’
was a special delight to Miss Beale. In 1858 it was still untouched, and had
many beautiful trees; one, a standard apricot tree, was—happy omen! covered
with golden fruit in that first autumn of her life at Cheltenham. The house itself
was beginning to change its character of family residence to that of a building
adapted for school purposes, and before very long even the rooms given up for
the use of the Principal and the Vice-Principal were encroached upon. Nor were
those rooms furnished in character with the stately outside of the house. ‘The

second-hand furniture procured would not have delighted people of æsthetic
taste. Curtains were dispensed with as far as possible, and it was questioned
whether a carving-knife was required by the Principal in her furnished
apartments.’[38] To such domestic details Miss Beale was indifferent, but it must
have been less easy to practise an economy which limited the extension of her
work. ‘The teaching staff was reduced as low as possible, and the Principal and
Vice-Principal gave up their half-holiday to chaperone those who took lessons
from masters. The Principal taught all the English subjects to Classes I. and II.,
besides giving weekly lessons in Holy Scripture throughout the College.’
So long as the chief task of the Lady Principal was to prevent the College
losing further ground, so long as her time and thought outside school hours
were absorbed by anxiety over every pupil who came and went, still more over
those who failed to come, there could be no rapid process of development. But
it would have been impossible for Miss Beale to take up an existing educational
work without at once making her individual mark upon it, and from the first the
school felt the grasp of her able hand. At Casterton she had longed at once to
change, to reform. At Cheltenham remodelling rather than revolution was her
aim—fulfilment and wise development.
To understand the way in which she gave fresh life, and gradually
refashioned the methods she found, it is necessary to go back to the prehistoric
days before her arrival in 1858. There is little record of the educational system
and teaching of that period, but it is certain that both were liberal and thorough,
free from narrowness and petty tyranny, in advance of those existing in the
ordinary boarding-school of the day. The curriculum, it is noteworthy, was
arranged with a view to developing the mind and character. Latin was taught at
first ‘very thoroughly,’ and the change by which after the first year it was
replaced by German, which the Lady Principal could teach, was a question of
economy, not of conciliation of parents who might think dead languages useless
subjects of study. In making the substitution it was hoped, so runs the report of
1856, that instruction in German ‘might be made equally instrumental with that
in the Latin language for conveying an accurate, exact, and logical knowledge
of the principles of general Grammar. In this impression (your Council) find ...
that they have not been mistaken.’
This attitude with regard to German was no new idea to Miss Beale, and she
pursued the aims of the founders when she made the language a necessary
subject of study for all pupils above the lower classes. Latin she discouraged,
except in the case of those who were near the top of the College, maintaining

that girls of seventeen and eighteen could learn in a few months as much Latin
as would absorb the greater part of a boy’s whole time at school.
On the question of music the founders had shown themselves out of
sympathy with the fashionable practice of a day when every ‘young lady’ was
expected to perform on the piano, every governess to teach it. They conceded so
far as to include music in the regular curriculum, but the expense of providing
the requisite number of teachers and pianos for so many pupils was heavy. To
meet this a system of class instruction was devised, by which the teacher gave a
lesson to four pupils at once, the same piece being performed simultaneously on
the treble and bass of two pianos. Whether such an arrangement was conducive
to the production of good music or the formation of taste may be doubted. It
suggests, indeed, a certain irony in those who hit upon a scheme that might just
satisfy a foolish popular demand, assured that any who really cared for music
would not grudge payment to the good teachers provided for the extra classes.
The music difficulty occupies some space in the early reports which, in
somewhat stilted and solemn fashion, set forth new ideals for the education of
the ‘fairer sex.’ The following is quoted from the report of February 1856:—

‘Your Council cannot refrain from stating their belief that as
long as the singular and extraordinary notion continues to
prevail in the minds of those forming the upper classes of
English Society, that dexterity of fingering on a single
instrument is the most important part of female education,
against, it might have been thought, not only the suggestions of
common sense, but the practical lessons of later life, so long
will the time required to be given for attaining even a low
amount of proficiency in this sleight of hand, most seriously
interfere with progress in all education and mental cultivation
worthy of the name.
‘How far the acknowledged deficiency of many of the fairer
sex in logical qualities and reasoning powers is due to this
strange delusion, it is not for your Council to discuss; but they
are not without hopes that the time may not be far distant when
they will be supported in an arrangement which will place
instrumental music altogether among the extra subjects, and
leave them and the teachers free to elevate and improve,
morally and intellectually, the condition of the female mind,
unembarrassed by so unessential an accomplishment.’

These remarks were followed in 1857 by others:—

‘Your Council have nothing to add to or retract from what
was said upon this subject in that Report: but, while they
believe that the instruction in this so-called accomplishment is
as efficient within these walls as it is capable, under all
circumstances, of being made, they must repeat their regret that
so vast a portion of valuable time should be sacrificed, in the
earlier years of almost every Englishwoman who hopes to
become a wife and mother, to that which is confessedly of no
value in an intellectual point of view; and can, by no possibility,
be of service to her in either of these two most important, and
generally much coveted capacities.’

The College had opened with a goodly array of teachers of
‘accomplishments,’ as it was hoped thus to attract bye-students. These were
gradually dismissed, and it cannot have added to the reputation of the school
that some of the best-known masters, such as M. Théodore Colson, were
considered too expensive. When the new Principal came there were only two
teachers of music, one of whom was Mrs. Lloyd, mother of the great singer. Of
this lady’s skill and loyalty Miss Beale always spoke with affectionate
remembrance. The Lady Principal gained her support in a reform instituted very
early in her reign, when separate piano lessons were again introduced, and the
class system, disliked by Miss Beale on other than musical grounds, was swept
away. She could not permit an arrangement which withdrew four pupils at once
from the ordinary work of the school; through which important lessons were
lost, and ‘collisions between class and music teachers made frequent.’ That the
Council allowed such a change to be made is a testimony to their confidence in
the new Principal. The immediate result was disastrous to the funds, and
continued to be so until Mr. Brancker introduced his new financial scheme in
1860.
The founders of the College were not men to be content with knowledge
obtained from epitomes; Miss Procter, also, was earnest and devoted in her
work, and took trouble to teach by means of lectures; but only dictated notes
were given, and these were not corrected. Her lessons were evidently
interesting:—

‘We worked hard, and the teaching was very thorough. I have
no doubt many of the pupils beside myself would willingly own
the great debt of gratitude they owe to Miss Procter; not so
much, perhaps, for what she taught, as for the way in which she
educated us by developing and enlarging our minds. She
possessed a good library, and we were often sent for books of
reference, and shown the bearings of the subject we were
studying. Physical geography was taught by Miss Brewer, who
always carefully prepared her lessons. M. Tiesset made our
French lessons delightful, even the grammar was a pleasure,
and he seemed to enjoy teaching us as much as we did being
taught by him.’

So wrote Mrs. Coulson (née Hartland) for Miss Beale’s History of the Ladies’
College, and another old pupil added:—

‘We had interesting lectures on Ancient History in general,
and Greek History and Literature, from Miss Procter.... M.
Tiesset and his sister taught French very well indeed, and I
especially remember a chart of irregular verbs, M. Tiesset’s own
arrangement, which, I believe, was a valuable help.’

Greek history was a favourite subject with Miss Procter, who neglected for it
the teaching of any other. Miss Beale, fresh from her Textbook, at once began
English and general history with her young first class. Regardless of the
additional labour it brought her, she also taught the children to take notes, which
she corrected for them. She gave weekly examinations on the subjects studied,
thus affording opportunity for English composition.
No science nor mathematics were taught in the early days. Miss Beale would
have liked to introduce Euclid at once, but says, ‘Had I done so, I might have
been the death of the College, so I had to wait for the tide. I began my
innovations with the introduction of scientific teaching, and under the name of
physical geography I was able to teach a good deal. This subject was
unobjectionable, as few boys learned geography.’
In one particular Miss Beale found the authorities of her new school striving
to be abreast with the times. It was a rule of the constitution that the pupils
should be examined annually, and each year a graduate of Oxford or Cambridge

had undertaken the task. The first examiner (in 1853) was Mr. Nicolay, then
Dean of Queen’s College, Harley Street. In the succeeding years a College
master or some other local scholar conducted the examination and sent in a
report to the Council.
The few specimens left of those early examination questions, even without
the answers, mark a tide-line now interesting to trace.
At first the review of all knowledge was comprehended in twelve very simple
questions, the most difficult mathematical calculation set before the first class
being, ‘The Price of 3 ozs. of tea at 4s. 4d. per lb.’ The paper concluded thus:—

‘11. Write out that part of your duty towards your neighbour
which explains the fifth commandment, and prove each
assertion from Scripture.
‘12. Write out the following sentence in large text, and small
hand, as specimens of your handwriting:
‘Integrity of understanding, and nicety of discernment, were
not allotted.
‘(Attach to this paper specimens of your needlework and of
your drawing).’

To the true teacher the interest of her work lies, beyond and above all subjects
and methods, in the child. No tale, alas! nor letter remains to show what Miss
Beale thought of her children when she first came among them. In one respect
there must have been disappointment. Miss Procter had opened a rival school,
which had drawn off the elder pupils; consequently the first class consisted of
girls of thirteen and fourteen. But fortunately there are some of those same
children who can recall the first impression made upon themselves by the new
Principal, as she appeared on August 19, 1858. Mrs. Mace, a daughter of the
late Bishop Bromby, was among these. She writes:—

‘I well remember Miss Beale’s first appearance at College,
and how I and three or four special friends, who were already
there ... felt fiercely loyal to the former rule, and told each other
we knew exactly what the new Principal would be like, “thin,
tall, spectacled, and old-maidy.” I can see her now as she
appeared in reality,—the slight, young figure, the very gentle,

gliding movements, the quiet face with its look of intense
thoughtfulness and utter absence of all poor and common stress
and turmoil, the intellectual brow, the wonderful eyes with their
calm outlook and their expression of inner vision. You may be
sure it was not long before the captious thirteen-year-olds were
changed into warm admirers.
‘I do not think her quiet dignity, her strength and personality,
her power of influence, could at any time of her strenuous and
successful life have been greater or more impressive. We were
few in number then, and, of course, saw more of her than was
possible for later pupils.
‘I never remember her raising her voice, scolding us, being
satirical or impatient with dulness or inattention. She was not
satirical even when a small girl, on being asked what criticism
might be passed on Milton’s treatment of Paradise Lost,
ventured the audacious suggestion that the poet was “verbose.”’

Small instances of the new Principal’s own powers of observation and use of
outside facts stand out through the mists of time; for instance,

‘an afternoon when she visited the needlework room and found
me being most justly blamed for inefficiency. In kindly tones
she said to the shy and clumsy culprit, “You ought to sew well,
for your mother has such beautiful long fingers,” and somehow
I felt comforted and encouraged. Then there was a day when I
summoned up courage to go and tell her that I had been guilty
of some small disobedience, as well as others who had been
detected and punished. She seized the opportunity of impressing
upon me that as I was (though only fourteen) a teacher in my
father’s Sunday-school,—a fact of which I did not know she
was aware,—I must surely see that obedience to rule was
necessary. I can still hear the low, earnest tones in which she
made her appeal to my sense of justice and right.’

The incident suggests a laxer state of discipline than was ever known after.
Assuredly on this point Miss Beale found a good deal to do. Some of the ‘young
ladies’ treated the good-natured French master as their brothers at Cheltenham

College might have done. There is a story, too, of a convenient cupboard at the
end of the schoolroom, large enough for a quiet game or gossip, and of the
consternation produced on a little knot of girls who thought they had assembled
unobserved, when the door was quietly opened upon them by the Lady
Principal herself.
In the matter of discipline, as of tuition, Miss Beale appears to have worked
on lines already laid down. Perhaps she kept before her mind counsel which she
later gave to a pupil who left Cheltenham to be head of a Foundation School:
‘Remember the school belongs to the governors, not to you.’ But we are equally
certain that she would not have worked on any lines which she did not approve.
She found no system of rules and penalties. She did not wish to introduce one;
but she made real and abiding, in a manner hardly credited by those outside, the
rule introduced by Miss Procter, by which no pupil might speak to another
without leave. With regard to this rule, which at once taught self-control and
produced order, the ‘quietness which minimises irritability,’ it may be further
remarked that in a place and time of ‘exclusive’ views, the College could hardly
have existed without it. The rule, kept, in itself prevented any pupil from
making friends for the first time in College; at any rate, it enabled her not to do
so. There was, however, when Miss Beale first came, a good deal of speaking
without leave. This disobedience with other irregularities she gradually
overcame, not by an overawing personality alone, but with the ‘quiet’ ways and
the word in season of which more than one old pupil speaks.
Tracing in sequence the history of Miss Beale’s first two years, when the
College, though in the eyes of the world slowly perishing, was really sinking
strong foundations, the Report of 1859 stands out with its commendation of the
new Lady Principal. ‘Of Miss Beale herself it may suffice to remark, that to
varied and extensive knowledge in all branches of Education, and skill in
imparting it, she unites a manner and disposition which at once command the
respect and win the affection of her Pupils, and renders it pleasant to your
Council to maintain that frequent personal communication with her which is
greatly conducive to the wellbeing of the Institution.’ Beyond this there is little
definite to record, save the steady half-yearly diminution in the number of
pupils and of the balance at the bank, and the consequent retrenchments,
implying fresh burden and effort for the small teaching staff.
In her History of the College, Miss Beale dismissed as with a smile the tale of
her early struggles, when each quarter it seemed less likely that the school could
live, till in the last half-year of 1859 there were only sixty-five pupils and but a
few pounds in the bank. But she admitted that perhaps only a barrister sitting in

his chambers, and waiting in vain for briefs, could sympathise with the anxiety
of that time, when upon one or two pupils more or less depended the very
existence of the College. The story she tells of recalling pupils, sent from the
door by a servant who said she was at dinner, shows her unwearying zeal: ‘I
sent her to fetch them back, saying, I am never at dinner.’ No pupil was lost for
want of watchfulness. None could give notice without her knowing the reason,
and in many cases getting the notice recalled. The problem was to live on,
working in a way the public had not learned to appreciate. Those were days
when nervous strain was little known and scarcely feared. School hours were
long; the time-table of the College then involved morning and afternoon school
for most days in the week. To one who sought ever to instruct with freshness
and zeal, and to take trouble to make her pupils think for themselves, the work
of teaching twice a day through the long half-years would now be counted an
undue effort and strain. In addition to this, Dorothea Beale took upon herself, as
if it were her own personal need (and she made it so), the daily fretting anxiety
of making the College pay. This she never really threw off, though in the last
years of established success it became somewhat modified. The economic strain
was relaxed when Mr. Brancker’s able hand was laid upon the finances; the
labour of teaching was lightened when the hours were changed, and when with
gradually improving fortunes more and better teachers were engaged. Doubtless
she might have taken advantage of these improvements to give herself more
ease of body and mind. But she cared for no reward, save the ‘wages of going
on.’ Her eager, nobly ambitious nature responded but too quickly to the claims
of the College, so with each step made certain, there was ever immediately
before her another to be fought for and won. It were hardly possible to say too
much in praise of the enthusiastic self-sacrifice which made the College what it
is; but some of the results of the early strife with fortune were to be deplored. It
left her too conscious of the place of the institution in the public eye; it made it
hard for her to justify a more generous expenditure than was possible at first.
The improved discipline, the invigorating teaching, even the efforts of the
new Principal herself, failed to attract pupils, and when in 1860 the lease of
Cambray House expired, no one was willing to take the responsibility of
renewing it.
Forty years later, when looking back on that time of gloom, Miss Beale
wrote: ‘How often I was full of discouragement. It was not so much the want of
money as the want of ideals which depressed me. If I went into society I heard it
said, “What is the good of education for our girls? They have not to earn their
living.” Those who spoke did not see that for women as for men it is a sin to

bury the talents God has given; they seemed not to know that the baptismal
right was the same for girls as for boys, alike enrolled in the army of light,
soldiers of Jesus Christ.
‘But helpers were sent with a faith and courage greater than mine.’
First among these was Mr. J. Houghton Brancker, who, already a member of
the Council, became at the moment of deepest need, auditor of the accounts,
and brought to the service of the College his great knowledge of business and
enthusiastic interest in education. Mr. Brancker had come to live in Cheltenham
for the sake of his daughters, in the year that Miss Beale became Principal. He
was churchwarden to Mr. Bromby, whose liberal views he shared. Mr. Brancker
had more than zeal and interest; he could think out a plan and pursue it. He
spared no effort or trouble where a good end was to be obtained. When he
became financier of the College he gave it ‘a large share of his time, and as a
paid secretary could not be afforded, he undertook all duties gratuitously.’ He
made out a new scheme by which the ordinary fees were lowered, but music
and drawing became extras. It was too great a venture to renew the lease of
Cambray House; but the owner of the house consented to take the College on as
a yearly tenant. The new scheme of payment helped at once to bring
improvement, the number of pupils went up, and Mr. Brancker went so far as to
order ‘seven new benches, three of them with backs.’

Mr. T. Houghton Brancker

This act of extravagance was followed almost immediately by an
enlargement of the schoolroom, making it seventy feet long. Mr. Brancker
proved that this additional space was really a financial economy; for with it all
the pupils could be contained in one room, and the necessity of increasing the
staff was deferred. As an alternative to the extension he breathed the suggestion,
for the first time probably in the history of the College, of a new building, a
building of its own, should a suitable site be obtained. In his letter on this
subject to Mr. Hartland, the ‘young ladies’ for the first time appear as ‘children.’
Mr. Brancker’s dream was destined to be deferred for ten years; but was borne

in mind by those whom it most concerned. It may be thought he was premature
even in the enlargement, in spending at once the small profit made out of the
increasing number of pupils. But he did not aim at making a fortune for the
College. From the first it was proposed that the shareholders should reap no
financial profit, and Mr. Brancker wished it to be evident that every penny was
needed for the improvement of the work: hence, it was no part of his plan to
have a balance in hand. His effort was to keep up the prestige of the College in
every way, and in order to do this he limited the number of shares issued to the
actual number of pupils, in order that they might not be advertised for sale at a
lower price than that at which they were purchased.
In three years from the time at which Mr. Brancker became auditor, he was
able to write: ‘February 1863. We promised assets over £1000, they are £1076.
We promised a money balance of over £200, and it is £356. So I think the
shareholders may have confidence in their Chancellor of the Exchequer. We
may well be proud of the result, but we are deeply indebted to Miss Beale’s
exertions for it, and I am glad her remuneration (by capitation fees) is so much
increased.’
By 1864 all pressing anxiety for the existence of the College was over. With
its one hundred and thirty pupils it was practically full. A regularly constituted
boarding-house was opened. Here the day-pupils, whose parents were leaving
Cheltenham, could be taken, and thus another cause of diminution in the
number of pupils was put an end to. Undivided attention and care could now be
given to the work.
In February a change which greatly told on this was made, a change which
now seems to have been only wise and reasonable, but which was at the time
regarded as extraordinary and revolutionary. Longer morning hours were
substituted for morning and afternoon school each day, Thursday afternoons
being set apart for dancing and needlework. Possibly Miss Beale anticipated the
outcry that would be raised; for she asked the mother of one of the pupils, one
likely to be opposed to the change, to be with her at the Council meeting at
which it was determined, ostensibly because she herself dreaded the meeting,
but doubtless in order that a representative of the parents might hear the subject
fully discussed. No notice of the change was sent to the shareholders, parents
and guardians received an intimation scarcely a week before it took place.
Before that week was over, stormy articles appeared in the local papers, notices
of removal were sent in, and a memorial from the shareholders and others
caused Mr. Brancker hastily to summon another Council meeting, and to write
to Mr. Hartland, ‘May I specially beg that you will attend ... as I consider the

vital interests and the future prospects of the College are at stake.’ Mr. Brancker
and Miss Beale recognised that now or never the battle must be won. Either the
College authorities must rule, or the local papers and popular clamour.
The objections of the memorialists were that the change was a coup d’état;
that four hours’ continuous study was too much for the children; that the
governesses were idle in wanting a half-holiday every afternoon. But the real
ground of dislike was doubtless that parents shirked the responsibility of
looking after their children in the afternoons, and preferred schoolroom
arrangements which would provide them with occupation during the whole day.
The Council replied in a circular to the parents that they would limit the
experiment to a period of two months, after which they would act upon the
opinion of the parents; and should the new plan be adopted, the quarter’s fees
should be returned to those who wished to remove their children. The
advantages of the change were then set forth.
It had been made to meet the objections raised to physical and mental effort
following immediately upon a hurried meal; to the young ladies passing
constantly through the streets, to the trouble of sending servants, the exertion of
so much walking, the time wasted in dressing and undressing, and to many
others.
Medical men, among whom were Dr. Barlow and Dr. Gull,[39] were asked for
their opinions; these were uniformly favourable to the change. The long
morning hours were lightened by the introduction of calisthenics, drawing, and
needlework, and it was arranged that certain teachers should attend the College
every afternoon to supervise the preparation of lessons when the parents desired
it. When a general meeting on the subject took place at the end of the specified
two months, only eight voted for the old system. ‘It was found,’ says Miss
Beale, ‘that more work was done in less time, for attention was closer ...
teachers and children had been able to get some afternoon exercise.’
What was then thought so extraordinary has since become the order of the
day for girls’ schools. In this matter Cheltenham led the way, a similar change
was made by Miss Buss in 1865, and when the hours of the Girls’ Public Day
School Company were arranged in 1873, it was on the plan of putting all
regular studies into the morning hours.
At the end of Miss Beale’s first six years the College was in a much
improved condition. There were ten classes, where she had found six. The
notable changes on the staff, which was now larger, were that Miss Brewer had

left to open a school for little boys in Brighton, and Miss Anna Beale and the
Miss Eatons had joined. Increased prosperity, and above all an older first class,
enabled Miss Beale to introduce some of the subjects which at first were
thought to be too unacceptable to be safe. There was, of course, opposition from
those who were constantly repeating that ‘girls would be turned into boys by
studying the same subjects.’ What, it was asked by some parents, do girls want
with Euclid or advanced arithmetic? There were, however, a few who
understood Miss Beale’s aims, and she was ever grateful for the support they
gave her.
The method of annual examinations was gradually improved. When there
was so little money available, local examiners, some of whom had no claim to
the position, were chosen. Miss Beale records her conviction that a German
examiner, who was at the time teaching in a local school, was a waiter from
some hotel who had come to England out of the season. One English examiner
recommended that history should be taught backwards. This was then regarded
as an astounding proposition. Mr. Brancker fully sympathised with Miss Beale’s
wish to improve the standard by obtaining examiners from one of the
universities, and obtained permission from the Council to seek them himself in
Oxford. The result was that for two or three years Mr. Sidney Owen undertook
the principal part of the annual examination. His name was the first of a long
list of men notable for scholarly achievement or educational progress, who in
later years conducted these examinations at Cheltenham. In his first report Mr.
Owen said much for the moral characteristics revealed by the intellectual work
it was his business to survey. He concludes a very favourable judgment by
saying he must not omit to mention that there were particular instances of
remarkable excellence of which the College may justly be proud. Some of the
papers he said, ‘would do credit to any Institution and gain high marks in any
public examination.... May the College long give the lie to the miserable and
pernicious fancy that accomplishments ought to be the staple of a lady’s
education, and that her reason is not designed by the Almighty to be highly
cultivated.’ But he thought the papers too long. Mr. Owen was indeed the very
first adventurer into that flood of response which examination questions cause
to flow from uncontrolled feminine pens. Mr. Dodgson (Lewis Carroll) was in
1863 the first university examiner in arithmetic and mathematics.
This year was a fruitful one to Miss Beale for yet another reason. It was the
year of the completion of her Chart. Always interested in history, ideally and
practically, she had as early as the Queen’s College days adopted a French
scheme by which the learning of dates was to be simple and easy, and the

connections of history, the bearing of facts and events upon each other, were to
be seen at a glance. She now perfected and brought it into use. The plan was
based on the assumption that a fact is more readily grasped through the eye,
than by the ear. By means of large squares, which were to represent centuries,
enclosing smaller ones, which should denote years, the whole coloured in
different shades according to the different ruling dominions and dynasties, a
complete outline of the history of a country was to appear on one page. The
reckoning was made by which ninety-nine was counted as the last year of a
century, with the result that in the year 1900 the chart found itself somewhat
discredited. But this method of counting, of course, in no way interfered with
the system. In learning dates at the College, great stress was laid upon having a
chart open before the student, so that she might grow familiar with its look, and
become able to call up the knowledge of any special event by remembering the
position of a dot in a certain square. There were those to say with Canon Francis
Holland, founder of the Church of England High Schools in London, ‘Why was
I born before such aids were given to the understanding?’ Whether this system
was indeed the royal road Miss Beale had planned for her pupils may well be
questioned; but the Chart had at any rate the value of a simple vade mecum of
chronology, introducing every girl at College to the minimum of facts she
should know in the history of the world.
The Chart drew for its author a last kind word of recognition from an old
friend, when Mr. Mackenzie wrote:—

‘Westbourne College, 1863.
‘ ... I am proud to think that I had any part, however humble,
in directing your mind to the Tabular style of teaching; and I am
gratified to find that one of whom I had so early formed a
favourable opinion, has proved to be so able a worker in the
great cause of Education.
‘I hope that you and your sisters, as well as my Godson, quite
understand that I entertain for you all the feelings of an old
friend, who values you on your own account as well as for the
sake of both your Parents.—Believe me to be always your
sincere Friend,
C. Mackenzie.’

So, in the best sense the College grew. Not in outward prosperity alone, in
teaching power, in class rooms; but within. The invisible fabric of mind, and
will, and heart, co-ordinated by one great idea, was slowly being raised. The
‘aborigines,’ as those who were girls of the Cambray House time call
themselves, even insist that at no time of her career was Miss Beale’s personal
influence so direct as then, when teaching so many subjects herself, and in small
classes, she came personally in contact with nearly all the older pupils. All
classes had their place and desks in the long hall; but the lowest division had a
separate schoolroom as soon as funds justified it, and the rooms of the house,
even on occasion those appointed to the Principal, were used as classrooms.
Miss Beale did not often teach in the large hall. The young ones were cleared
out of their division room when she gave a big lecture; a small class, such as
one for German translation, would be taken in her drawing-room. There came a
moment when even her bedroom was invaded. Those small classes of
mathematics or German were more especially the ones which endeared teacher
and pupils to each other. There was always enough personal awe and inspiration
about the Lady Principal to ensure a well-prepared lesson from really interested
pupils, and often beyond the lesson there would be delightful talk. Iphigenie in
Tauris recalls many thoughts beyond German translation, and the verbal
exercise itself was deprived of every vestige of dulness by her great interest in
the growth and development of words. No noble thought, no fine simile was
allowed to pass unnoticed; other poems were compared, or perhaps a passage
would be given to be translated into English verse. In the mere suggestion of
this, what hope and encouragement lay for many who hardly liked to own their
pleasure in such an attempt, or who had found earlier efforts of the kind
thwarted by criticism too bracing for beginners! It may indeed be thought that
Miss Beale had always an unwarranted admiration for the verse-making of her
pupils. If in this she sometimes offended the cause of pure literature, her attitude
towards it was yet surely the right one for a teacher.
This must indeed have been one of the happiest periods of her work, when
she first came into near touch with the children she had seen grow up about her,
and felt herself able to give impetus and training to growing aspirations and
developing thought, when her sympathy was constantly appealed to in the way
in which she could best give it.

‘It is my peculiar privilege to have spent all my College
career in her class, to go through years of her special
personal teaching. In later days, when the College assumed
larger dimensions, such an experience must have been rare;
to those who could claim it, it meant a potent influence for
life. How vividly can I recall her sitting on her little dais,
scanning the long school-room and discovering anything
amiss at the far end of it; or making a tour of inspection to
the various classes with a smiling countenance that banished
terror.’

So writes one old pupil of that time. Another speaks of that deep
tenderness which she ever felt, but often concealed, and was not afraid of
showing in a case of special need.

‘When I was almost a child at College I lost my mother,
and shall never forget Miss Beale’s tender sympathy and
help. She took such interest in my preparation for
Confirmation, and brought me herself to my first
Communion,—just she and I alone; a day I shall always
remember. All through my girlhood she was a kind and
ready adviser, and continued her interest throughout my
married life. One always felt whatever happened to one,
Now I must tell Miss Beale.’

It is sad to know that Miss Beale was often depressed in that hopeful
spring-time of the College by the tongues of gossip and slander. She had so
profound a horror of petty talk about other people’s business, that she
possibly exaggerated the importance of carelessly repeated and untrue
reports. She mentions the local gossip from which the College had to suffer.

‘Tales were handed about that it was impossible to trace.
It was said that accomplishments were neglected, that the
pupils played on dumb pianos. Persons who did not exist,
and others who would never have been admitted, were said

to attend the College. News was sent out to Canada that the
cattle plague was prevailing, and the report was half
believed. The mere circulation of absurd falsehoods is,
however, often enough to decide a mother to place her
daughter elsewhere; sometimes no falsehood at all, a
contemptuous tone is enough. Such things can only be met
by silence and steady and unobtrusive work. Perhaps one is
better off without the children of those who accept their rule
of life from Mrs. Grundy. Certainly such opposition and
persecution prove an excellent tonic, and I personally feel
grateful for it, though it was a bitter draught. We had to
remember that the interests of some were injured by the
establishment of the College; the wish being father to the
thought, people would sometimes believe what they said.’

Matters reached a climax when an absolutely untrue statement
concerning cruelty to animals was set on foot about Mrs. Fraser, who had
opened a boarding-house in connection with the College. The real gravity of
the report lay in the circumstance that some in the College had listened to it,
and it was necessary to address the teachers on the subject. It was a painful
task, but bravely faced by the Lady Principal, who said:

‘Now I have nothing to do to judge them that are without.
We must cheerfully bear evil-speaking. But if it come from
within, the matter is for that reason a serious one; for this
reason I feel it must be traced up to its source.... I feel I can
appeal to you as lovers of truth, as those who feel that no
advantages of education, of health, or any other, can
compensate for the disadvantage which would arise to any
children who lived in an atmosphere of evil-speaking, lying,
and slandering.’

Thus grasped, the nettle ceased to sting. It was perhaps a small incident
scarcely worth noting. But Miss Beale remembered it as one which caused
great discomfort at the time, and it had far-reaching consequences. Her
power then was more limited than in after years. She learned through this

difficulty the need for more liberty to act independently of the Council in
the internal management of the College. In her efforts to get the evil rooted
out from their midst, she nearly exceeded her powers. This, doubtless,
taught her to prosecute her reforms more warily. Above all, it may be
believed that she gained a fresh access of that self-control so necessary to
all governors. For it is only in fiction that difficulty can be overcome by a
sudden word or action; in real life work has to be carried on despite the
obstacle;—growth takes place under pressure.
Outside the work of the College there is not a great deal to relate about
Miss Beale’s life at this period. Her holidays were sometimes spent in visits
to her family.
After the deaths of Mr. and Mrs. John Beale, Hyde Court, the old family
house came into the possession of Miss Beale’s mother, who had been left a
widow in 1862. In 1868 Mrs. Beale came with two daughters to reside at
Hyde Court until her death in 1881. There the Lady Principal often went in
the holidays, finding pleasure in the beautiful surroundings. An old pupil
tells of the delights of a visit to her there,—of Mrs. Beale, whom her
daughter Dorothea greatly resembled, calm and majestic looking, of the
glorious view from the windows of the room appropriated to Miss Beale
and her large correspondence.
A good part of the holidays even then was spent in Cheltenham, but there
were some visits abroad. One year Miss Beale accompanied her brother
Edward, then recovering from illness, to the Black Forest. On another
occasion she went with her sister to Chamounix, and enjoyed the mountain
walks. In 1864 she spent some time at Zürich. More than once she went to
Paris. This continental travel was by no means for recreation and
refreshment only. It nearly always implied visits to schools, where fresh and
foreign methods were studied. No opportunity of gaining new ideas was
ever neglected, for Miss Beale could not understand ever living apart from
her work. In the holidays, as in school-time, she was still working, though
in a different way. In Cheltenham itself there was little time or opportunity
for recreation. Society, as the word is generally understood, had little to say
to the new head-mistress, whose insignificant figure and plain dress did not
provoke much interest. Her absence of small talk, her quiet intellectual face,
her reputation as a clever woman, her connection with Queen’s College, all
represented something unwonted and new. She had received no welcome

from the religious world of Cheltenham, whose leaders, Mr. Close and Mr.
Boyd, though one of them had accepted a seat on the Council, remained
aloof from the interests of the Ladies’ College, perhaps sharing the
prejudice still prevalent against any departure from the beaten track of
women’s education.
It was of little moment to Miss Beale to find herself unsought by society,
for she seldom cared to spend an evening from her work. She could not
understand the position, which some have thought it wise to take up, that it
is good for a school to have its head seen in society. She held it to be best
for a school that its head should give herself unremittingly to her work,—
disastrous to the welfare of any pupils for their teacher to sacrifice to social
engagements the time she ought to give to the preparation of lessons. The
friends of that early time were a few thoughtful people who were interested
like herself in education.
On first coming to Cheltenham Miss Beale, to please Miss Brewer, she
said, attended Christchurch, but she soon left this for St. Philip’s and St.
James’ at Leckhampton, and for St. Paul’s. Both these churches were less
obviously in the possession of wealthy seat-holders than the churches in the
town. To St. Philip’s she went at that time when she ‘wanted to be quiet,’
taking up a position near the door. All the middle of that church was then
occupied by charity children and the poor, but there were in the rich part of
the congregation many whose names have interest from one cause or
another.
The incumbent of St. Philip’s, the Rev. A. E. Riddle, was a man of much
learning. He had been Bampton Lecturer in 1832, and was the author of a
well-known Latin Dictionary and other books. Miss Beale felt at home in
his great library, and visits to Mrs. Riddle at Tudor Lodge were among the
few recreations. Mr. Riddle died in 1859, and for the next few years she
seems to have regularly attended St. Paul’s or Holy Trinity churches. She
found real friends in the parsonage-house at St. Paul’s, but the immediate
tie was soon broken, for in 1864 Mr. Bromby was made Bishop of
Tasmania.
The claims of relationship and early friendship were not forgotten, but
there was little time for letter-writing beyond the ever-growing

correspondence connected with work. Mr. Beale wrote playfully of his
daughter’s growing absorption:—

‘You always write as if you were at the top of your speed,
and this is not good. I doubt not you have a great deal to
occupy your time and your attention, but pray do not be
always in a hurry, you will inevitably break down if you are
so—you will lose in power what you gain in speed, as
certainly as in mechanics; and with greater danger to the
regularity of the machine.... I am really fearful to take up
your time.... I daresay now you are scrambling through my
note without that respect to which the writer and the subject
are entitled. But pray remember that to neglect (the care of
your health) is the worst economy in the world....
‘I will now release you, but I was unwilling quite to lose
your correspondence, though do not write to me until you
have a little patient leisure.’

Thus, in difficulty and obscurity, the life-work of Dorothea Beale was
begun. But hers was a light which could not long be hid. Each year it
burned more surely and shone further afield. By 1864, when the Endowed
Schools’ Inquiry Commission was instituted, she was known as a successful
head-mistress whose views and methods were worth hearing. With Miss
Buss and others she was asked to give evidence.

CHAPTER VII
A ROYAL COMMISSION

‘I learnt the royal genealogies
Of Oviedo, the internal laws
Of the Burmese Empire,—by how many feet
Mount Chimborazo outsoars Teneriffe,
What navigable river joins itself
To Lara, and what census of the year five
Was taken at Klagenfurt....
I learnt much music, ...
fine sleights of hand
And unimagined fingering.’

E. B. Browning, Aurora Leigh.

This volume, which memorialises one great name in one field of
women’s work, is not the place in which to dwell upon the details of that
work in other departments. But it may be remarked in passing that the
educational movement itself was but a part—an essential part—of a larger
one. It seemed, Miss Beale often said in speaking of this time, that women,
like the damsel of old, heard the Voice of the Master penetrating the
slumber of death, bidding them Arise. And they obeyed. They arose in
many and various ways to minister to Him.
The first sign of this awakening was publicly seen in 1844, when Dr.
Pusey engaged several leading laymen, among whom was Mr. Gladstone, to
help him in the foundation of an Anglican Sisterhood. Two or three Orders
date from before the opening of Queen’s College in 1848; those at Clewer
and Wantage followed soon after. The devotion of Florence Nightingale and
her little band in 1854 led many to follow her example, and the reform of
nursing steadily if slowly followed. In 1866, before the reports of the
Schools’ Inquiry were published, Dr. Elizabeth Blackwell took an M.D.
degree in Switzerland, and Miss Garrett began to study for one in London.
The desire for better teaching and training was widespread. The
establishment of the Cheltenham Ladies’ College was a part of a larger

movement which was affecting the whole country. Sixteen years had passed
since the opening of Queen’s College had unsealed the fountain of
knowledge for women. Immediately after, in 1849, a college had been
established on undenominational lines. This was Bedford College, which
found a liberal donor in Mr. Reid, and among its first teachers counted
Francis Newman, De Morgan, and Dr. Carpenter. These led the way. Then
in 1850 the great school which will for ever be associated with the name of
Frances Mary Buss was opened in Camden Road, its enterprising head-
mistress having there removed the private school she had carried on
successfully for some years, to develop it on the lines of a public school,
under the enlightened supervision of Mr. Laing. Cheltenham followed four
years later, and these two, for many years the only public schools for girls
in the country, may be considered the direct offspring of Queen’s College.
The general condition of girls’ education remained unimproved some
years longer. Yet amid the thousands of private schools where worthless or
poor teaching prevailed, there were a few which had come into the hands of
capable women who had been inspired by the noble ideals of those who led
the religious and intellectual thought of the day. The name of Elizabeth
Sewell is representative of these; but for the most part they lived and died
unknown, because their work was of less public moment than that of the
great leaders. Yet, in an account of women’s education it seems ungracious
to name only the well known, however great, and to pass unnoticed the wise
virgins, less prominent but not less faithful, whose lamps shone and were
replenished through the night. In her death, as in her work on earth,
Dorothea Beale was not alone. Miss Sewell, aged ninety, passed but a few
weeks before her, and very shortly after two other unknown fellow-workers,
who had not laboured in vain. The Times of January 1907 told of Miss
Piper, the founder and head of Laleham. Of Miss Piper it could be said, that
at a time when the instruction given to girls was of a formal character, ‘she
set herself to make her pupils think, to stimulate interest, to enforce
thoroughness.’ These were the very points on which the Schools’
Commission found girls’ education defective. A fortnight later died Emily
Milner, who was for fifty years head of St. Mary’s School at Brighton, to
which she devoted all her small income. She taught with marvellous energy
and freshness, inspiring her pupils themselves to be zealous and
persevering, and keeping them in touch with all that was best in the rapid
advance and change of modern education. But such head-mistresses were

rare. The Commissioners seldom found either thoroughness or freshness in
the schools they inspected.
The Schools’ Inquiry Commission was instituted in 1864, a year in which
John Ruskin, in a lecture at Manchester, made a passionate appeal to rich
women to claim their right to serve—and reign. His cry did not reach a
larger public until, eight years later, the lecture was published under the title
‘Of Queens’ Gardens’ in Sesame and Lilies. Like the simultaneous
discovery of some great star, by watchers strange to one another and half a
continent apart, the movement for enlarging the scope of women’s work
was furthered by men of divers ways and methods, heralded by visionaries
like Tennyson and Ruskin, marshalled into deliberate order by high-hearted
officials like the Secretary of the Governesses’ Benevolent Society and the
School Inspector Joshua Fitch. Possibly no Assistant Commissioner, as he
drew up his report, recalled the ringing words of Ruskin. But though the
medium varies to the stretch of difference between the inspiration of a great
poem and the deliberate statements of a blue-book, we recognise the same
force behind both, and see both alike to be channels for one great stream of
tendency. The conclusions drawn from the report, the resulting effects seen
in new schools and organised public examinations, miss nothing of their
special value if regarded in connection with such words as these:—

‘Let a girl’s education be as serious as a boy’s. You bring
up your girls as if they were meant for side-board
ornaments, and then complain of their frivolity. Give them
the same advantages that you give their brothers ... teach
them, also, that courage and truth are the pillars of their
being.... There is hardly a girl’s school in this Christian
Kingdom where the children’s courage and sincerity would
be thought of half so much importance as their way of
coming in at a door.... And give them, lastly, not only noble
teachings, but noble teachers.’[40]

The Schools’ Inquiry Commission was instituted to examine into the
existing state of education above the elementary grade, and to report on
measures needed for its improvement, having special regard to all
endowments applicable, or which could rightly be made applicable, thereto.

By the instance of Miss Emily Davies, girls’ schools were included in the
inquiry. Among the Commissioners was Lord Lyttelton, who was regarded
by those who wished to improve women’s education as a friend to girls. He
had manfully asserted their right to a share of the endowments, and of
women to a share in the management of girls’ schools. Sir Stafford
Northcote, Dr. Temple, and Mr. Forster were also members of the
Commission. Among the Assistant Commissioners, whose business it was
to visit and report upon schools, were such well-known names as those of T.
H. Green, J. G. Fitch, and J. Bryce.
No schools outside the eight selected districts were visited, but the
Principals of some beyond their limit were requested to give evidence
before the Commissioners in London. In the year 1868-9 reports and
evidence were gradually issued in a series of twenty large blue-books. Of
these volumes about nineteen-twentieths related to the education of boys
and general questions, and about one-twentieth to the education of girls
alone.
Miss Beale hailed the Commission as a means of bringing the thousand
inefficiencies of girls’ education to the light. She took advantage of it in an
address she gave in 1865 at Bristol, at a meeting of that now extinct body,
the Social Science Congress, when she pleaded that, for boys and girls
alike, education should be planned with the view of developing character.
Her argument was none the less weighty because so carefully guarded:—

‘Let me say at once that I desire to institute no
comparison between the mental abilities of boys and girls,
but simply to say what seems to be the right means of
training girls, so that they may best perform that subordinate
part in the world to which, I believe, they have been called.
‘First, then, I think that the education of girls has too often
been made showy, rather than real and useful; that
accomplishments have been made the main thing, because
these would, it was thought, enable a girl to shine and
attract, while those branches of study especially calculated
to form the judgment, to cultivate the understanding, and to
discipline the character (which would fit her to perform the

duties of life) have been neglected; and thus, while
temporary pleasure and profit have been sought, the great
moral ends of education have been too often lost sight of.
‘To the poorer classes the toil and struggle of their daily
life do, to some extent, afford an education which gives
earnestness, and strength, and reality; and if we would not
have the daughters of the higher classes idle and frivolous,
they too must be taught to appreciate the value of work. We
must endeavour to give them, while young, such habits,
studies, and occupations as will brace the mind, improve the
taste, and develop the moral character. They must learn, not
for the sake of display, but from motives of duty. They must
not choose the easy and agreeable, and neglect what is dull
and uninviting. They must not expect to speak languages
without mastering the rudiments; nor require to be finished
in a year or two, but impatiently refuse to labour at a
foundation.’

These words were pioneers of the Commissioners’ reports, in which they
find a literal echo. The reports, with her own evidence and that of other
ladies interested in education, were by Miss Beale preserved for posterity.
She perceived instinctively that if they were not brought into general
circulation all would soon be forgotten, much never known at all. With that
stern sense of economy which caused her never to waste an opportunity or a
scrap of material, she took the task upon herself. She obtained permission to
republish the matter relating to girls’ schools in a single volume, for which
she wrote a preface. In this she dealt with the evidence of the
Commissioners, discussing at some length the questions of examinations
and overwork. But she sought chiefly, as she had already done a few years
before in an article in Fraser’s Magazine,[41] to show the need of real study
for women, the advantage to be gained for character and mind from such
subjects as history and literature.
The general report of the Commissioners on Girls’ Education forms the
first chapter of Miss Beale’s blue-book. It opened with a quotation to the
effect that an educated mother is of even more importance than an educated
father. Miss Beale may have thought this an exaggerated statement; but she

must have welcomed and republished it with some satisfaction. She was for
ever having it dinned into her ears, by those who opposed all serious study
for their daughters, that girls should be educated to be wives and mothers.
Mrs. Grey showed the real fallacy of the statement, in a paper which was
the direct result of the republished reports, when she pointed out that girls
were not being educated to be wives, but to get husbands. A happy marriage
Mrs. Grey held to be ‘the summum bonum of a woman’s life ... not an object
to be striven for, but to be received as the supreme grace of fate when the
right time and the right person come.’[42] With Miss Beale and Miss Emily
Davies she deprecated the education which is designed from the first to fit
and prepare for a special position in life. She would have women and men
alike, working men, tradesmen, men of fortune educated as human beings,
not technically instructed for some special walk in life. In eloquent words
she pictured the ideal for which she and others like-minded were striving,
and were seeking to attain by the practical method of enlightening public
opinion, founding schools, asking for public examinations. She wrote:—

‘The true meaning of the word education is not
instruction.... It is intellectual, moral, and physical
development, the development of a sound mind in a sound
body, the training of reason to form just judgments, the
disciplining of the will and affections to obey the supreme
law of duty, the kindling and strengthening of the love of
knowledge, of beauty, of goodness, till they become
governing motives of action.’

Mrs. Grey’s conclusions were the same as those of the Commissioners,
who complained that there was no demand for the education of girls, the
cause of the indifference being that low idea which regards only the money
value of education, and estimates it solely as a means of getting on. Girls
were taught with a view to increasing their attractiveness before marriage,
rather than with that of increasing their happiness and usefulness after. This
was the general cause of dissatisfaction, but there were many details.
One and all complained that, with the exception of quite a few schools,
the education of girls in the middle classes was much worse than that
existing in the elementary schools of the day. This was of course specially

the case in subjects like arithmetic, and arose greatly from the mistaken
notion that they were of no use to girls. The Commissioners were
unanimous in condemning the prevailing method of instruction by means of
such books as Mangnall’s Questions and the like, termed by Mr. Bryce ‘the
noxious brood of catechisms.’ Of this, be it said, Miss Mangnall’s famous
work, which bears witness to its author’s well-stored mind, and which
reached nearly a hundred editions, was the best. The ‘Questions’ demanded
indeed the knowledge of such useless facts as the number of houses burned
in the Great Fire of London; but there were in use, in the numerous small
private schools of the period, cheaper and more stupid books, in which the
information was not merely useless, but even defied common sense. A small
catechism on ‘Science,’ entitled ‘Why and Because,’ concluded a long list
of inept questions with: ‘Why do pensioners and aged cottagers put their
teapots on the hob to draw?’ In some books, facts of varying nature—of
history, geography, grammar, etc.—were all jumbled together. It is not
surprising that girls instructed by the parrot-like, inconsequent methods of
such lesson-books, passed from school with no love of reading.
The Commissioners complained further, that though French and music
were held to be the most important subjects to which a girl should devote
herself, they were nearly always very badly taught. They spoke of time
wasted at the piano; they calculated the thousands of hours given to music
which was not worth hearing at the last. They gave instances of ludicrous
mistakes in French, which no effort of visiting masters could improve into
anything like a real knowledge of the language, because rudimentary
grammar had never been mastered. They spoke of drawing taught with an
equal disregard of thoroughness, and with still more disastrous result. ‘The
common practice of masters touching up their pupils’ performances for
exhibition at home fosters a habit of dishonesty, and that too prevalent
tendency running through the whole of female education, the tendency to
care more for appearance than reality, to seem rather than to be.’[43]
Some spoke of the absence of healthy interests, of the need for games, a
need which appealed but little to Miss Beale, in whose own youth play was
marked by its absence only. Many urged the necessity for founding in every
town public schools similar to boys’ grammar schools, where girls could
obtain a sound education, without accomplishments, at a low cost.

These reports embody a number of facts concerning a state of things now
happily passed away. Hundreds of small private schools might have read
their doom in them, for the establishment of many public schools, endowed
and otherwise, soon followed the inquiry. We see the poor sham education,
with its wrong notions of the beautiful and the best, vanish without a regret.
Yet, since all human effort has its worth and place, is it possible and fair to
say one word above its grave? Was there no genuine wish to give pleasure
pleading in the miserable pieces of the boarding-school young lady, and
even in the painful drawings which the master’s touch failed to make
tolerable? They testify at least to something out of the work-a-day sphere,
to the desire for the ‘something afar,’ often the first step to a truer vision.
Precious years of girlhood spent on the vain effort to attain
accomplishments speak of some dim perception of the refinement and
uplifting which men look for in women. Ill-devised, badly attempted,
poorly carried out, the thought of giving delight was not only mercenary in
aim; behind it was some consciousness of a real human need. The educators
of women to-day should know better than to despise its pleading, however
imperfectly expressed. ‘May I not have one ornamental one?’ said a brother
when a third sister was about to devote herself to obtaining certificates for
mathematics.
Nine ladies, including Miss Emily Davies, Miss Buss, and Miss Beale,
were asked to give evidence before the Commission. Miss Beale’s, which
was taken in 1865, is of double interest, at once touching the state of girls’
education in general, and the advance being made in the Ladies’ College,
Cheltenham. She took with her a hundred entrance examination papers
arranged in order for inspection. Actuated perhaps by the marvellous
carefulness which lost nothing, and seeing a use even in what would often
be considered waste papers, as well as by the definite aim of preserving a
record of progress, she had kept all the answers written by her pupils to
entrance examination questions. With the College papers, she showed also
some written by children in one of the national schools at Cheltenham, in
order that the Commissioners might make a comparison for themselves.
On being questioned, Miss Beale explained in detail the whole system of
the College, interesting the Commissioners in the method of teaching
Euclid, one which at some points antedated by many years the present
teaching of geometry in the public schools, and which has lately been

adopted by the universities. At a time when schoolboys were learning
Euclid by heart, Miss Beale was teaching it to girls by a method of
explanation which they had to follow and finally reproduce without any
learning by rote.
With regard to the teaching of Holy Scripture she said, ‘Each class
teacher takes her own class, and that, I think, very important’; but on this
subject little was said.
On the question of discipline and moral difficulties she explained that the
government of the College was chiefly by personal influence, and that her
plan was to make use of very simple means, such as changing the seat of a
child who was suspected of being dishonest in her work. ‘It is a small thing,
but it indicates want of trust, and it is by small things we govern.’ Such
discipline obviously appeared slight to Dr. Storrar, who asked on hearing it,
‘Perhaps girls are more sensitive than boys in such matters?’ ‘I will not
attempt to decide,’ replied Miss Beale, ‘but my opinion is that they are not.’
Asked her opinion on a system of examination, Miss Beale recommended
a general Board for the examination of teachers, to be founded with national
sanction, and an inspection of the schools under the management of those
who had passed the examination. ‘There is one other point,’ she added: ‘the
cause might be helped on by the establishment of a model school for the
training of teachers; I hardly know how such would work.’
The evidence of the Commission, published in 1868, produced a great
impression on Mrs. William Grey and her sister, Miss Shireff. Under their
able leadership there was formed, in 1871, ‘The National Union for
Improving the Education of Women,’ for the purpose of organising effort
and helping to create a sounder public opinion with regard to education
itself. The work of this society led two years later to the foundation of the
Girls’ Public Day-School Company. By this agency, which was commercial
as well as educational, High Schools were established in most of the
important towns of England. There followed the numerous independent
efforts and companies which have covered the country with a network of
secondary schools for girls. In 1872, Miss Buss giving up her private
property in her very successful school, by an act of self-sacrifice and
generosity made it a public school by placing it in trust. A lower school was
also established in Camden Town under the same management.

Miss Emily Davies also found her work aided by the Commission. She
was largely instrumental in the opening of Local Examinations to girls. The
foundation of the first women’s college at a university was laid by her
when, in 1873, the college she had opened at Hitchin four years earlier was
removed to Cambridge, where it became known as Girton. This step was
perhaps even less of a venture, though more startling to the public mind,
than the first beginning at Hitchin. Of this Miss Maria Hackett had written
to Miss Beale:—

‘The proposed Foundation of a College for the Superior
Education of Women is another most important measure in
the same direction. I had much correspondence about twenty
years ago, with your dear father, Mr. Mackenzie, and Mr.
Storrs, on the subject, but I did not venture upon so
extensive a scheme.’

Public examinations for girls necessarily followed the work of the
Commission, the opening of women’s colleges, and the establishment of
public schools for girls. Head-mistresses were called upon to face all the
difficulties and drawbacks of these, as well as to accept their advantages,
and in some cases also to incur odium, as they worked with measures which
they knew to be not in themselves the best, but only the best attainable.
Miss Beale had her own vision of what a public examination for girls
should be. She had said at Bristol in 1865 that parents

‘are afraid of popular outcry, afraid that their children should
take a low place, forgetting that (if the examination be
conducted without any of the improper excitement of
publicity), it is also a test and means of moral training, since
those who work from the right motives simply do their best
and are not overanxious about results. I do not desire that
there should be a system of competitive examinations, but a
general testing of the work done, and if this cannot be
responded to in a quiet, lady-like manner, it does not speak
well for the moral training of the school.’

She had also said:—

‘I do not think the plan for admitting girls to the same
examination with boys in the University local examinations
a wise one; the subjects seem to me in many respects
unsuited for girls, and such an examination as the one
proposed is likely to further a spirit of rivalry most
undesirable. I should much regret that the desire of
distinction should be made in any degree a prime motive, for
we should ever remember that moral training is the end,
education the means. The habits of obedience to duty, of
self-restraint, which the process of acquiring knowledge
induces, the humility which a thoughtful and comprehensive
study of the great works in literature and science tends to
produce, these we would specially cultivate in a woman, that
she may wear the true woman’s ornament of a meek and
quiet spirit. As for the pretentiousness and conceit which are
associated with the name of “blue-stocking,” and which
some people fancy to be the result of education, they are
only an evidence of shallowness and vulgarity; we meet with
the same thing in the dogmatic conceit of the so-called “self-
educated man,” who has picked up learning, but has not had
the benefit of a systematic training and a liberal education.’

The formal admission of girls to the Cambridge Local Examinations took
place in 1865, though they had been informally accepted as candidates as
early as 1863. Miss Beale did not accept the examination at Cheltenham,
mainly because its arrangements did not fall in with those of the College
year; but she closely observed its working, noted each set of questions and
reports, recognising that with these examinations new impetus had been
given to the progress of education. She wrote and spoke on the subject,
holding it to be the duty of the teacher to seek to guide this movement,
which must increasingly affect girls’ schools.
The following extract from one of her papers is chosen because of its
bearing on the larger and still unanswered question of university degrees:—

‘Examiners must be prepared not to domineer but to learn
that the art is yet in its infancy, and their knowledge of what
girls can or ought to do is at present very slight. They must
be ready to admit the possibility of a teacher knowing better
than his judges. The latter are sometimes tempted to
exclaim, Quis custodiat ipsos custodes? If the school
curriculum and the examinations are so far out of harmony
that a large amount of special preparation is required, either
the curriculum is at fault or the examination an evil.... I
know that some make a great point of having the actual
University examinations opened, because a mere “women’s
examination” is spoken of contemptuously. I believe that in
trying to avoid this, we should encounter greater evils, and
that the wish is connected with a misplaced reverence which
many women entertain for the learning of a “pass man.”’

After some years of consideration a decision was practically forced upon
Miss Beale. She must choose for her clever girls either to pass a public
examination which she thought more suited for men, or to fall behind in a
path which was surely leading in the right direction. She did not hesitate,
but saw that on this, as on many occasions, it must be her part to labour to
remove obstructions, to overcome obstacles.
In her interview with the Commissioners, on being asked if she would
approve of the establishment of a special examination for ladies up to the
standard of attainment of the London matriculation, she had replied,
‘Certainly,’ but advocated that it should be made possible for women to take
German instead of Greek. This examination, she agreed, might be taken as a
measure, though the measure might not be filled with the same subjects as
for men. She was soon called upon to act in this matter, for in 1869 it was
opened to women, and the University of Cambridge also instituted an
examination for women over eighteen years of age.
Miss Beale accepted both for the College, but for some years there was
no regular organisation of work for those who were taking the Cambridge
examination. This was partly due to the higher limit of age. It was then
thought extraordinary that girls should stay at school after they were
eighteen. It was difficult to persuade many to do so. Some were ‘wanted at

home,’ some wished to ‘come out’; those who were intending to be teachers
thought they should be already earning. Then the absorbing work for the
London examination made it difficult to arrange for much of a wholly
different character. Consequently, at first, the older pupils and the young
teachers who sought to pass the Cambridge examination had to look after
themselves a good deal. Miss Beale would certainly not consider this a
drawback. They had the additional advantage of lectures from herself on
literature and history.
The ‘London’ must have seemed better worth while for many reasons. It
might prove a first step to a definite degree. The degree examinations were
not opened till ten years later, and might not have followed at all had zeal
and courage not been shown by women over the matriculation. Again, the
matriculation certificate enabled men to offer themselves as candidates for
further examination with a view to certain careers, such as the medical
profession. This would hold good for women. For it had the real advantage
of being a recognised standard, while a certificate for an examination
arranged specially for women would be like ‘foreign coin.’
One cannot too much admire the qualities which bore teacher and pupils
up that steep initial step of the London examination; for steep it was. At that
time it demanded a certain knowledge of subjects which were generally
regarded as the prerogative of men. Hardly any of the girls who hoped to
pass in them had, when they began their special preparation six terms
before the examination, learned any Latin, chemistry, geometry, algebra, or
natural philosophy—this last being a term which embraced some
acquaintance with optics, statics, dynamics, and hydrostatics. Little more
than the rudiments of these new subjects had to be mastered, for the
examination at that time required ‘a collection of minima, a smattering of
everything, enforced with Procrustean rigour on Philistine lines.’ Primarily
designed for boys with a grammar-school education, the Latin paper
included some knowledge of Horace. It is scarcely necessary to say that
disappointment as well as hope was woven into the strand of these brave
beginnings. Many failed. Some who were not really equal to the work were
persuaded to enter. Some who passed, complained that they could not retain
knowledge which had been acquired too rapidly and not assimilated. Not
avowedly, not ever consciously to herself—her sense of responsibility for
the individual was too great for that, and she reckoned the training of value

even if there were no success at the end—but in actual fact, the failures
were accepted by Dorothea Beale as a necessary complement of victory to
be.

‘Let the victors when they come,
When the forts of folly fall,
Find thy body by the wall!’

All the weakness of the position was known to her. And she showed not
only courage and daring, but patience and humility still harder to practise.
On one occasion, after a specially difficult Latin paper, which had proved
too much for many examinees, she wrote to another head-mistress whose
disappointment was as keen as her own:—

‘The more I reflect, the more I think any protest
unadvisable. No doubt some have passed (even in Class I.)
in former years, who were worse in Latin than one at least
who has failed this time. But then there are many things that
may be urged. Perhaps the good have not done themselves
justice, and the bad more than justice. Besides, I cannot
myself, even in looking over one set of papers, unless I
correct all at a sitting, mark them fairly even to my own
mind; how much more difficult it must be when the
examiners change, and the papers come in after a year’s
interval. We, by submitting ourselves to examination, pledge
ourselves in some sort to be content. It will never do, in my
opinion, to impugn the justice of a University, and I really
think they will do justice. Any expression of discontent
would tend to throw back the granting of degrees. I believe
the unification is more likely to take place soon, if we are
patient. Remember, too, the decision has not been that of one
individual examiner, but has been in some sort confirmed by
the Senate.
‘My impression is that the papers will be very carefully
set next year, and that we must bear our disappointment this

year as well as we can. I am very sorry you feel it so much.
Your candidates have done so well in other subjects, that if
they should try again next year, you might be certain of a
large measure of success, and then a protest, or any remarks
from us would tell so much more. I certainly do not mean to
send in a large number, but I am pledged to a few, and to
those who failed, if they like to go in again.’

This conclusion showed special insight, willingness to bear, and
readiness to learn; for the Latin paper was a far more real test of knowledge
than any of the others. To have complained of it might have been to
acknowledge inferiority which did not seek improvement. And looking
back, it may be seen that the failures and mistakes were not of much
moment. The real importance and the real triumph lay with the aim and
effort. Miss Beale early foresaw what has been literally fulfilled.
‘It is clear,’ she said, ‘that it will before long be impossible in England, as
it is now on the Continent, for any one to obtain employment as a teacher
without some such attestation,’ i.e. as a certificate. If she could help it, Miss
Beale would not let girls who were intending to teach, pass from her
without one; she persuaded the pupil, she reasoned with the parent, she
frequently mastered both; she silently bore contradiction and
misconception. She refused to be thwarted by any obstacle, much as she
might wish to change it—such as the time of year at which it was held, the
difficulty of sending candidates to London, or by any hesitation on her own
part. She might write to a newspaper, ‘it is to some extent an open question
what education is most suitable for girls,’ but she inspired her class to
prepare for ‘the London’ with zealous drudgery and in the power of self-
denial, as the best they could do to fit themselves for work.
Yet the College list of successes was from the first good. In 1869, the
first year of examination, eight in all England went in for the matriculation
examination, and six failed. The only candidate from Cheltenham passed.
This was Miss Susan Wood. In the next year, of the three who passed from
Cheltenham one was the famous Greek scholar, Miss Jane Harrison, another
bore the name—so dear to its generation—of Marian Belcher.

There was plenty of criticism. There were many to repeat the old
complaint that women were being unfitted for their proper duties. It was
Miss Beale’s delight to show that those who did well in examinations could
also excel in domestic duties. She would tell how one successful candidate
of the London examination proved first a helpful sister, then a devoted wife
and mother. She would show with pride a letter she received from one of
whose ability and success she had great reason to be proud, signed ‘Yours
in flour and dripping.’
It may be mentioned here that there is a home distinction connected with
the Ladies’ College, Cheltenham. In 1868 it was resolved at an annual
general meeting that pupils who reached a certain specified standard in the
College examinations, and whose general conduct was approved, should be
entitled to receive certificates. The first certificates under this resolution
were awarded in 1869 to four pupils. In 1875 it was resolved at a Council
meeting that those who obtained the College certificate should be entitled
Associates of the Ladies’ College, Cheltenham. These associates are, with
the consent of the Lady Principal, allowed to attend any ordinary classes of
the College without the payment of fees.
Following hard upon the introduction of public examinations for girls
came the cry of overwork. There was some reason in it; but it was much,
very much due to timidity and want of knowledge, as well as to
exaggeration. It is not necessary to repeat here the evidence which Miss
Beale began to collect even before she was a teacher herself, and to which
she was ever adding, to the effect that idleness and ennui have more and
sadder victims than even misdirected energy and overwork. A healthy
prejudice against an empty, self-centred life is steadily growing. The
movement which its followers have named Christian Science—also that
which is preferably called Faith Healing—daily bring to light instances of
self-destruction caused by the slothful mind and unruled will. None the less,
the cry of overwork was not an empty one. When first girls began to work
for examinations, it was not known how much or how little they could do.
Miss Beale’s own opinions upon this, as put before the Commission, were
quite tentative. Clever teachers did not always allow for slower-moving
brains than their own. Nor was the difference of temperament sufficiently
observed and considered. The eager and artistic mind would feel strain and
fatigue where one less delicately balanced might toil unwearied. It was not

recognised how willing girls are to be pressed, how eager they are to please,
how unreasonable they often are in their own arrangements for work, or
how easy it is for them to fall into the insincerity of making protracted
hours of reading take the place of concentrated mental effort. Head-
mistresses and others who had mastered difficulties alone, and who still
carefully prepared every lesson they gave, in spite of the pressure of daily
affairs, had to learn to reckon with these drawbacks. Examinations when
first introduced must from their very novelty have been a great anxiety to
both teachers and pupils. The best way of working for them and of resting
before them had to be discovered by experience. The pressure was less
obvious with those actually first in the field, as they would naturally be all
of good ability. The danger began when girls of smaller brain-power and
equal ambition, but ignorant of their limitations, dared to follow.
Complaints of overwork came often from homes where there was little
cultivation or regard for the things of the mind. Girls who could produce, in
what they called their ‘notes of lectures,’ statements concerning ‘heroic
cutlets’[44] and ‘Lincoln’s hotel’[45] had not, it may be well understood,
much intellectual background. Yet the wholly unfounded complaints of the
parents of such pupils would receive public attention that was little
deserved. There were others, whose parents would have had them play a
pretty part in home life in the afternoon and evening, but who naturally did
not find enough time for lessons unless they sat up late or slurred them over.
As it was never Miss Beale’s intention that day-pupils should consider
themselves to be anything but ‘in the schoolroom,’ the home work was not
arranged to allow time for more than the necessary walk or recreation.
The question of overwork is one that still agitates the scholastic world.
The real difficulty, at Cheltenham as elsewhere, is not with the schoolgirl
whose life is under supervision, but with the young teachers and the elder
pupils who have the management of their own time and health, and have
not yet learned their own limitations, or acquired a due measure of self-
control.
During the early period of the history of the College, Miss Beale came in
contact with minds and ideas outside her own school, chiefly by means of
the Schools’ Inquiry Commission, and the matter of public examinations.
Those who wished had the opportunity of learning her views through her
magazine articles and the pamphlets which she began at this time to

publish. The most notable of these was ‘The Address to Parents.’ Much of
this valuable little paper—one which in her early years as head-mistress
made Miss Beale’s ideas widely known among those who cared for real
education—had been anticipated in her address to the Social Science
Congress in 1865. Then she pleaded the cause of day-schools, urging for
them that they offered a training which did not separate children from the
influence of home.

‘Of course when children are educated at home, and an
anxious mother daily sees and suffers from her children’s
faults of temper and disposition, she will be tempted to think
that she had better give up the training into other hands, and
send them away. Doubtless this is sometimes wise, often
unavoidable; but how frequently without necessity is the
burden of parental responsibility temporarily cast aside, only
to press with tenfold weight in later years. How many
parents have learned bitterly to regret that they removed a
daughter from the divinely appointed influences of home,
and severed by long separation those bonds of affection
which might have checked the young in the hour of
temptation, and been the support and comfort of their own
declining years.’

In 1869, in another address to the same Society, Miss Beale unfolded for
the first time her ideas of the help which should be given to girls who were
in need of education they could not afford, more especially to those who
wished to prepare for a life of teaching. ‘I propose,’ she said, ‘the
foundation of a new Benevolent Society, which shall be distinguished from
other societies by its rigid adherence to the principle of giving nothing
away.’ Instead of gifts, she suggested yearly loans of money, for the use of
which an exact account and report of work done should be rendered. This
Society has never been founded, but the work Dorothea Beale wished it
should do was carried on by herself, quietly and thriftily, but with ever-
widening operations, to the day of her death.
At one other point did Miss Beale at this period touch opinion outside her
own sphere. This was by writing for the Kensington Society,—a little semi-

educational association which during its short life included many names of
women who were in their day leaders in philanthropic work and thought.
The topics on which its members wrote or deliberated were such as these:—

17 Cunningham Place, London, N.W., November 15,
1865.
The Kensington Society.
1. What are the limitations within which it is desirable to
exercise personal influence?
2. What are the evils attendant upon philanthropic efforts
among the poor, and how may they be avoided?
3. How does the cultivation of artistic taste affect the
wellbeing of society?

Meanwhile the general work of the Ladies’ College, Cheltenham, was
going on quietly and steadily, developing in every best way. The valuable
time of the Principal was no longer taken up with the superintendence of
lessons and chaperoning music pupils. A larger and gradually improving
staff enabled her to arrange her own work so that it might be of the greatest
service to the College. But her increasing interest in education at large, her
ever-growing sense of having a special place in a large movement, were
never allowed to distract her mind from the work of the hour. Rather, she
used them as an inspiration for daily drudgery.
The preparation of lessons, the minute and careful correction of notes of
lectures,—monotonous work which demands a continuous strain of
attention, went on week by week. By means of this quiet, diligent toil she
and her fellow-workers were building the real College, of which the fine
structure whose first edition was opened in 1873 is but a sign and a symbol.

CHAPTER VIII
ORGANISATION
‘Shepherds of the people had need know the Calendar of Tempests in the State; which
are commonly greatest when things grow to equality, as natural tempests about the
equinoctia.’—Bacon.

‘With no feeling of exultation should we meet to-day, my
children. Those of us who have long laboured at the work
are indeed grateful that we have been permitted to see its
accomplishment, but we are also deeply sensible that every
increase of influence means an increase of responsibility;—
that he who had five talents was required to bring other five.
With larger numbers there is a stronger sense that we are a
collective power for good or evil. And shall we doubt which
is stronger? We dare not be so faithless. There is such a
mighty prevailing power in the spirit of earnest devotion,
that when only two or three are gathered together in His
Name, for work as well as for prayer, His power is felt.
What a power might we be for good if we were His disciples
indeed.
‘Some say our school is Church-like. I am glad, for
Churches are built to remind us that God is not far away, but
very near to us, and this is the thought which should keep us
from evil and fill us with gladness. May His Presence be
seen in this house, seen in the lives and hearts of His
children: May they remember that they, too, form one
spiritual building. As each stone stands here in its appointed
place, resting on one stone, supporting others; so are we a
little community, a spiritual building; each is placed in her
own niche, each has her appointed place, appointed by the
Spiritual Architect; each is needful for the perfection of His
design.

‘May we ever form part of that spiritual building, whose
foundations are laid in faith and obedience. “Whoso heareth
these sayings of mine and doeth them, he is like a man who
laid the foundation and digged deep, and built his house
upon a rock.” St. John wished for one of his converts that he
might “prosper even as his soul prospered.” Let us desire
only such prosperity. Let us ask for true wisdom, for
lowliness of heart, that we may esteem others better than
ourselves. Let us ask, above all, for that most excellent gift
of charity, without which all else is as sounding brass, or a
tinkling cymbal. Something of this spirit of love for one
another does live among us, as we see by those who have
come to join their prayers with ours to-day. I would ask
them not to forget us afterwards, but to remember us when
they return to their homes; and I would fain hope that this
bond will last through coming years, and that the College,
though transplanted to a new place, will always be to you
“the old College.”’

In these words the Lady Principal addressed her staff, pupils, and a small
sprinkling of friends on the first morning of assembling in the new building
which, begun in January of previous year, was thus opened on March 17,
1873. As the school hours ended on Saturday the 15th, a simple order had
been given to take home all the books, and to bring them to the new College
at the usual time on Monday. In the course of the afternoon all desks and
portable fittings were moved and arranged in order for work. The
appointment of places in the new hall was, so far as can be remembered, a
matter of a few minutes only, so quiet and free from fuss was all College
organisation. There was certainly not half an hour of the ordinary lesson
time lost. Yet it was a change which made an undying impression. The
quietness with which it came was wholly in accordance with the spirit of
the school. The regular work, undisturbed even for an hour by the totally
new surroundings, spoke emphatically of the response of duty to every
fresh inspiration and larger freedom.
And how beautiful those new surroundings seemed to the hundred and
fifty girls who were privileged to experience the change from the square,

unadorned rooms of Cambray House. Two churches at that time, one with
its high, fine spire, another with its lavish decoration, were all that the town
could show of the Gothic Renaissance which followed the teachings of
Ruskin and Morris. The Ladies’ College was early among non-ecclesiastical
buildings of this type. To some it may have seemed florid, but not to the
eyes of youth and hope, which took delight in the pierced and patterned
stone, the flowers in the coloured glass, the arch of the windows, the
unusual design of the lecture-rooms. These caused teachers and pupils to
ignore for the most part the undoubted chilliness of the new rooms, and the
‘currents of air,’ about which some parents wrote complaining letters, for at
that time people were even more afraid of draughts than they are to-day. It
is worth mentioning, as characteristic of Miss Beale’s mind, that she forgot
very soon the exact date of entrance into the new College; though when
reminded of it each year by her own birthday, or by the approach of spring
and Lady Day, she would on some suitable March morning say a few words
at prayers: ‘It is —— years to-day since we entered,’ etc.
In 1873 the building was but begun. It is a question if Miss Beale herself
dreamed of all that was to follow. There was as yet no house for the Lady
Principal, and for a year, while it was being built, she lived with Mrs.
Fraser, who had one of the three boarding-houses then existing. The house
completed in 1874, there followed in 1875 the first enlargement of the
College, the two hundred and twenty pupils for whom it was first designed
having rapidly become three hundred. At this time a second large hall and
more classrooms were added. In seven years the College had doubled its
numbers; hence in 1882 were built the art and music wings and the
kindergarten rooms, to be followed almost immediately by science rooms
and laboratories. After this the sound of the hammer was not heard for
nearly four years; but it is one which has a resounding echo in the memories
of College life. There were a few peaceful half-hours when it was stopped
for Scripture lessons, at all other times it was but a too persistent reminder
of prosperity and growth. A memory also abides of crowded doorways and
passages, overfull lecture-rooms, and a continual looking forward to the
increased accommodation which each new enlargement would give.
This constant expansion as funds permitted was entirely after Miss
Beale’s heart. In 1891 she wrote to Miss Arnold:—

‘Yes, I do hope you will build, a good building is the best
investment for money, if you have it. Let it be done
gradually, as ours was. Plan for more than you can do at
first, and build only what you can afford at the time. Don’t
beg: it is much better to earn one’s living.’

Strange as it may appear, the building of a fit home for the College had
not taken place without opposition. Miss Beale relates in her History that
after the site for it had been purchased, the annual general meeting of
proprietors in 1871 voted by a majority interested in the Cambray property
that it should be re-sold. Dr. Jex-Blake, the Principal of the Cheltenham
College, and a member of the Ladies’ College Council, came to the rescue,
and in a special meeting of the same year spoke earnestly in support of the
plan for building. ‘Teachers so able and energetic and successful have a
right to the greatest consideration, and the very best arrangements for
teaching. A Ladies’ College so distinguished, second to none in England,
has a right to every advantage that can be secured for it, a right to be lodged
in a building of its own, a building perfect in its internal arrangements, and
outwardly of some architectural attractiveness; one that should be a
College, and should look like a College. It is quite right to say, “Let well
alone,” but that does not involve letting ill alone. The College has achieved
brilliant success, but that was not due to its having been cramped for room;
and when no longer cramped, its success will be greater.’ The resolution of
the earlier meeting was rescinded by fifty-nine votes to nine, and two
months later a contract was accepted for building from Mr. John
Middleton’s design. The site, for which £800 was given, was a part of the
old Well Walk where, between their glasses, George the Third and other
famous water-drinkers had once taken their daily constitutional.
In the matter of the building, Miss Beale had a struggle to get her bold
and comprehensive ideas carried out, but eventually she won the day. It was
hard for her, at the very moment when she seemed about to realise her
dreams for the expansion of the work of the College, to receive orders
which she felt to be new limitations. She had constantly to explain her
reasons and requirements to those who had a deep interest in the welfare of
the school, but who had not also the knowledge needed for arrangements
which Miss Beale felt and intended should be in the hands of the Principal

alone. The following letter which she wrote to a member of the Council
suggests some of her difficulties, and also her method of skilfully and
apparently accidentally stating the inconvenience or disaster which would
ensue if another arrangement than her own were adopted:—

‘I have drawn up a ground-plan and tables, by the help of
which I hope I may succeed in making clear to you the
impossibility of conducting the College without the use of
four class-rooms. I have never in the slightest degree
departed from my original intention. Time-tables, classes,
teachers, furniture, and building were all arranged to
harmonise. It never occurred to me that any one would wish
to interfere in the internal management, as it had never been
done during the fifteen years I have been here. Great,
therefore, was my surprise to receive a letter saying,—“I
have had strict injunctions not to have desks put back into
room 2.” If it is thought well to reduce the number of pupils,
it can be done after Midsummer but not now, and to give up
two class-rooms we must reduce our numbers not by twenty,
but by fifty, i.e. by two whole classes. Our Hall is only ten
feet longer than that in Cambray, and we then had the use of
four class-rooms and one supplementary room, besides that
assigned to Drawing and Callisthenics. With fifty additional
pupils we cannot do with less, even though the class-rooms
are larger. It is not impossible to teach a class sitting on
chairs, I should not, therefore, insist on having desks, but
they will certainly be much more convenient, and much
more sightly; chairs will always look untidy. The desks I
have match the furniture, the room was built to fit them, for
examinations. I am therefore unwilling to have them sold for
nothing. It is certainly necessary for the well-being of the
College that the internal arrangements should be in the
hands of one person; if this is not done, I can only foresee
the occurrence of such disasters as we are familiar with,
when the Head Master of a public school is interfered with
by those who cannot see the daily working, and know all the
complications.’

The new building was not the only cause of difference. The Lady
Principal, with her advanced ideas on women’s examinations, her desire to
help teachers, to increase the number of the pupils, seemed to some
members of the Council to be pushing the work into other fields than those
for which it was intended when first the Proprietary College for Ladies was
founded. ‘Local interest,’ a term not ominous of good in the ears of great
educators, demanded a good day-school for the daughters of gentlemen, and
nothing more. Some felt that, in the pursuit of mathematical and scientific
attainments for which special teachers and classrooms were required,
accomplishments such as drawing and painting would be neglected. Some,
who had watched the growth of the infant College, and looked upon it
almost as their own, interfered in small ways, as in the arrangements of
seats and rooms. The gossip mentioned already was at its height during the
first year in the new College, and Miss Beale thought that it might have
been prevented or much minimised had all connected followed her counsel
of perfection by being superior to town talk.
More than all she felt the need of a larger outlook. The Council should in
her view include some members whose personal acquaintance with the
College and the needs of the town would give them a special interest in it;
but she desired to unite with these men and women of intellectual power
and large views whose experience would rank them among educationists.
And for the management of the boarding-houses, which were now
becoming each year a more important element in the College life, opinion
which could be untouched by local prejudices was needed.
Some of the anxieties of this time were expressed by Miss Beale in a
paper which she may have thought of reading to the Council. It began thus:
—

‘Until we moved into the new College a year ago, I had
been singularly free from interference. The lesson learned
when Miss Procter resigned and our College was nearly
wrecked, had not been forgotten. Besides, we were poor, so
there was little to quarrel about. With the removal to Bays
Hill our real difficulties began. I had drawn the ground-plan
with the greatest regard to economy of space. I was told the
porch must not be used for entrance, and I was obliged to

show we could not do without it.... Then I was asked to do
with two instead of four or five lecture-rooms, and so on. I
was obliged to prepare elaborate documents with ground-
plans, etc., ere I could get leave to use the space provided,
and without which the College could not be carried on.’

There were perhaps others who cared for the College, who realised no
less strongly than Miss Beale the advantage it would be to bring on to the
Council those who were less interested in it as a local institution than as one
of educational value for the country at large, but it was she who
undoubtedly took the lead in the steps made to this end. In this she showed
courage, for even those members of the Council who best understood her
views hesitated to support them, fearing an abrupt change which would do
more harm than good. They wrote to caution her:—

‘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.’

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.’

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 in some 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 they would, 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 clearly defined and the number of the governing body
increased. The Council then elected consisted of the following:—

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 her History as ‘Bear Garden.’ Reorganisation was seen to be essential.
The College, founded in 1853 as a voluntary association, 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.

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 Council
meetings. People came in and asked for information,
involving hours of work for no result; ignored all that had
been done, and talked as if they alone had done everything
and knew everything. She urged me to try and be
impersonal, so to speak; to remember that these and similar
difficulties would always occur where there are several
people. She said that women were always accused of being
too personal, and harm was done by giving a handle to such
an assertion.’[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 great scheme 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. One lady, 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 the
standard 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 not prove that 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 did not 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
seeing money 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 have refused,’ 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 schools naturally 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.

CHAPTER IX
DE PROFUNDIS

‘Es sind die, so viel erlitten
Trübsal, Schmerzen, Angst, und Noth,
Im Gebet auch oft gestritten
Mit dem hochgelobten Gott.’

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, to some
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 brave spirit may do even in weakness and depression. A
few extracts to show this follow:—

‘Jan. 26. Nothing of real work done since school, and but little in the
morning.
” 31. Inattentive. Spoke unkindly without cause. Irritable.
Feb. 3. Did not do best for literature class. Felt feeble and did not
try as I ought.
” 9. [There] ought to be more industry in writing for Saturday
lectures. The night cometh.
” 11. I grieve for the stupid lesson I gave Division III., because
not well prepared.
” 14. Still great waste of time. How much have I to learn in this
little time of life left to me.
” 15. Too much depressed, feeling I can’t. Perhaps more variety
and exercise wanted. Certainly more trust and energy.
” 16. More than one hour wasted in idle thoughts, 5-6 a.m., and
yet I have work for others which I ought to have
thought of, and lessons. I deserve to be left without

help. Evening. Not much matter or order in lessons.
Tired and discontented with self. Neglect of books.
More trust and energy wanted.
” 26. I have idled away precious time, neglected individual work.
Because my own will is weak, I could not strengthen
[another].
” 27. In bed all day. There are duties still undone, though I see
death near.
” 28. Not in College. Much time wasted and [I was] disobedient to
the voice of duty.
March 1. Still great waste of energy in idle thoughts. Talk of zeal but
no religious work done to-day, though there are so
many individuals I am ever putting off.
” 2. Omitted teachers’ class, which with less of idle thoughts I
might have done.
” 5. Too exhausted to do much. Give me true contrition for the
past.
” 6. Time not well used in afternoon. Letter to Miss Clarke.
” 14. Was ill last night. Almost no individual work.
” 15. A little more work for my children to-day. I thank Thee for
some help. May I consecrate time and energies to Thee.
” 17. Have not prayed well for to-morrow—was tired, but did
waste some time. Not attentive enough at Church....
Surely to-day’s negligence might humble me!
” 18. Rose thirty-five minutes late through carelessness.
” 19. Back to College. Shall I patiently resign my work as soon as
He bids?
” 20. Evening examination shortened because delayed. It was not
necessary, though I am idle. Ordered away. Thy will be
done.
” 21. Sent to Hyde. Forty-seven. (This was her birthday.) For the
grievous neglect of past time enter not into judgment.
Sanctify the future!
” 22. Make me ever more constant to resign to Thee my will.
” 23. More ill, so tried to be idle, but did what thought I could.
Vain thoughts of self-pity.

” 24. No Church. Have wasted time. Great inattention at prayer.
” 25. Talking, and therefore late, at least half an hour. Miss
Belcher came.
” 27. George came. Was ill most of afternoon. Did nothing.
” 28. I thank Thee for hopes of more work. Make me more restful
and faithful. Power of prayer fails. Grant me the spirit
of holy fear.
April 2. Back at Cheltenham.
” 3. I ought to have specially husbanded strength.
” 5. Tried, but not successfully, with my Confirmation children.
Feeling too ill to do well. Thy will be done.
” 7. Holy Eucharist. Ill at night. The Lord thy refuge, and
underneath the everlasting arms.
” 8. Better class. Was helped.
” 13. Not punctual because sleepless. Read Mr. Hinton’s Life and
was helped by it. Confirmation at Christchurch.
Summary [of the term]. Time wasted, idle prayer,
boasting. Intercessions [neglected] because too selfish.
” 16. Came to Hyde [for the holidays].’

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 it had 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 what was
right, what was His Will. At last I was given a simple faith
blindly to 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
holidays were 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!”’

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 the Life and
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
force her 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 take to 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.

‘Nel mezzo cammin di nostra vita
Mi ritrovai per una selva oscura
Che la diritta via era smarrita.’

To write of it is to turn a page of soul-history so intimate, and for a
moment so painful, that it may well be thought it should be passed over in
silence. But to omit it would not be wholly faithful to the memory of one
who wished certainly that this story of her inner life should be known to all
who could be helped by it. To tell it, moreover, is to use her own words, for
she wrote of it herself, more than once or twice. She felt, when she looked
back on it afterwards, that she was obliged to go through this time of
suffering in order that she might be better fitted to do the work given her, in
order that others who had lost faith and hope might be helped to regain
them, by knowing how she herself had passed from destruction and despair
to hope and rebuilding.
The diary of this whole period is more than ever indicative of inward
strife and unrest from which she would not by her own will escape to any
comfort other than the highest. Among the entries, which are for the most
part self-analytical and depressed, it is curious to find this: ‘Letter from
—— Some vanity perhaps in the refusal.’
It was an offer of marriage from an old friend.

Once or twice there is a hint of coming sorrow before she was conscious
what its nature would be. Once, when marking the anniversary of a friend’s
death, she noted herself as ‘perplexed with the Incomprehensible.’ On June
27, 1881, a year before the darkness closed in, she wrote: ‘A great dread of
coming sorrow, as of a calvary before me. If some bitter cup is to be poured
out, Thy will be done. Only forsake me not! Salvator Mundi!’
The new year (of 1882) opened as usual with renewed self-dedication;
but she mentions that she came back to Cheltenham on January 14, after the
annual Retreat, ‘very broken.’ Though a persistent effort to keep up her
religious rule was maintained, the clear shining of faith was much clouded.
One who went to her for help at that time writes of it thus:—

‘I went to her in sore trouble at the beginning of 1882, in
one of the overwhelming griefs of extreme youth, when the
whole aspect of life has suddenly changed from a lovely
rose-garden ... to a hideous waste. The very things which
made it lovely seemed to be shining and horrible shams,
with undreamed-of treachery and horror lurking behind
everything. It was the culminating disillusionment to turn to
her who had been such a tower of patient strength all
through school-life, and find nothing, no help, no comfort,
no explanation, no hope to give! Yet while there were many
at that time whom I could not endure to see, or do with
because of the feeling of betrayal all round, there was never
that with her. It never dawned on my mind for a moment that
she was herself in the horrible mire, but I understood, I
suppose, in my heart. I felt sorry for her and loved her better
than ever before, and I never understood till now the reason
of the tender intimacy of that time, which lay under the
apparent disappointment of finding no help or comfort
where I had made sure of it.’

This powerlessness to help those who turned to her in their spiritual need
made more poignant the sense of loss to one who loved to give freely as a
mother to her children. ‘Then others came,’ she wrote afterwards of this
time, ‘and one felt like the starving mother who saw the babe at her empty

breast. I had no simple truths, no milk of the word to give them that they
might grow thereby.’
A letter to a friend mentions books which had a destructive effect as read
at this time. It was not Miss Beale’s habit deliberately to read a book which
was likely to disturb or weaken faith. To an old pupil who once wrote to her
of Strauss’s book, The Old Faith and the New, she had replied:—

‘September 1873.
‘I feel sorry you have read Strauss, but, of course, if you
felt it your duty to do so, you were right. Still, I do not think
one is bound to read everything, any more than one is to
listen to all that can be said against all one’s friends. I mean
a person might be ever so good, yet if we were constantly to
listen to insinuations against them, if we were frequently
with those who disbelieved in their goodness, and looked
contemptuous when we trusted, a most well-founded
confidence might result in doubt and distrust. I think we
should act in religious matters as we ought in a case of
friendship—refuse to hear insinuations, but ask for the
grounds, arguments—not let our mind be biassed against our
will and better judgment. I believe with many that these
doubts are “spectres of the cave,” that if we have courage to
face them, we shall see them fade away. But then we must
be very much in earnest, spend time and labour and much
thought upon this, as upon other subjects, and pray for the
spirit of truth. I have not read Strauss, I know the general
line of his arguments, but as you say he gives none here, I
need not get the book to meet them.’

Now, in this period of doubt and anxiety, books by any whom Miss Beale
thought to be earnest seekers for truth, whether they were orthodox or not,
were freely read.
The sense of loss and discomfort seems to have grown gradually all the
year. ‘Poor lesson because depressed,’ she notes on a day in February. A
fortnight later in church she was ‘wrestling like Jacob; Tell me Thy Name.’

Palm Sunday, however, brought some peace. ‘I think I touched His
garment’s hem.’ Each day in that Holy Week she was at an early service
before school hours began, and on Easter Day wrote: ‘This Lent has been
blessed.’ In Easter week she notes that she finished reading Jukes’s New
Man, ‘a beautiful book.’
But before the holidays were over there was ‘a dread of coming sorrow,’
a renewed feeling of deadness and want of devotion, only ‘passive
following the inward guide.’ ‘Much troubled this morning,’ she wrote on
Whit-Sunday, and the need for a ‘new life-pulse’ grew larger as the summer
term wore on. Yet she persisted in striving to keep her devotional rules, and
for her apparent want of zeal blamed only herself. At the end of that busy
term, so full of work and interests and anxieties, she wrote: ‘Be with me in
the holidays. I fear them.’
Of the suffering of that time she afterwards wrote fully, tracing the steps
by which she was gradually led to think that the historical evidence on
which she thought her faith rested was of no value. An extract from one
account is given:—

‘Even if historical evidence were there, it could not be for
all. And was it there?
‘No, [only] fragments by nobodies, inconsistent versions.
If God gave a perfect Man, He could not be for an age, but
for all time, and how if His life passed, and we have no
writing, only untrustworthy accounts? Surely, then, the life
was worthless which God did not care to save for us. He
stored up coal and light, our physical life, but He cared not
to preserve Jesus, the spiritual life, He who had been called
the Light of the world. Then it must be a delusion that He
was, and God has deceived us, and we were deceived. The
Pharisees were right in testing His claims. They watched
Him on the Cross and there bade Him cry to the God Whom
He had claimed as Father,—and He cried as the fabled
prophet of old, Eli! Eli! and God disowned Him, and the
words followed which proved that He was forsaken, that the
thirst of soul was unappeased and His life was indeed over.

And so the darkness gathered round the Cross, ever
darkening as I listened to the cry. Was God indeed mocking
our hopes? The old pagan vision rose before me. The
symbols of the Christ were confounded with grotesque
forms. I could not utter the Creeds of the Church. Yet
strange to say I yet clung to a consciousness of a Father of
the visible. In my troubled dreams, which haunted me day
and night, I still seemed to feel there was a God, though no
voice was heard for me among the trees of the garden.[50]
‘I said I will not give up my trust in God, I must
reconstruct. I will not, as some who have lost faith in Christ
and the eternal, give away the trust in a Father. This I
thought would survive without, but with that (my faith in
Christ) went all belief in the existence of any other. As I
listened to the voice of creation unharmonised by the
interpretation of generous love proceeding from the soul, it
seemed simply horrible: the martyr slowly consuming in the
fire, God looking on, refusing to interfere with natural
causes. I had seen this before, but, as in that beautiful
parable of the Septuagint, I had seen God was with him, and
the joy overpowered the pain, and the true life was purified,
and they thanked God in the fires. Now I saw no immortal
hope, no resurrection; all was dark horror and amazement.
No; could I keep belief in a God who had deceived
mankind? Should I trust Him, pray “to Him”?[51]
‘For months I read and thought of nothing else; whenever
the pressing claims of work left me for a moment, I felt the
light was gone from my life. Sometimes a deeper sympathy
filled me,—as I seemed like a gladiator standing with my
fellows. Morituri te salutant. But generally I felt myself
growing hardened by the want of power to find sympathy in
my sorrow, nor could I pray. I did not often, and when I did,
it was one cry—“Why, why hast Thou left us, O God—
without answer to our cries? Why hast Thou uttered no word
of consolation to all the groans of earth? If Thou hast not
heard Jesus, none of us need pray.” He trusted in God that

He would deliver Him, and was forsaken, and men have
waited through the ages, as a little child would wait, shut up
in prison by some cruel father, and would not at first believe
that he was to be starved to death. And at last they realised
that God for them was not,—only the prison-house He had
built, in which they passed away their lives, in which, like a
starving man, they dreamed of palaces and feasts, the
delusions of their fevered brain.
‘How that old passage came home to one’s fevered soul,
—“the desert shall blossom as the rose”—as the thought of
one’s old Christian faith came back. What would one not
give, I thought, to believe it true once more! For that lighted
up the whole world, then there were living waters,
consolation in every sorrow, a well-spring of divine
sympathy, inexhaustible,—wells from which one could
drink for ever, and pour out of one’s abundance.
‘Sometimes one did look up to the parched heavens, and
though no rain fell, each time there was a little refreshing
dew, as if God were answering when one let Him speak,
instead of running into desert places, crying with Io,
forsaken and maddened by a cruel God. Sometimes the
words came then, “I will see you again.”
‘But the vision of green pasture, of waters that would
quench the parching thirst of the desert, it seemed a mirage,
—and no good Shepherd waded out to me in my desert.
Sometimes I found other wanderers, who asked of me the
waters, and this seemed to fill my heart with deeper anguish;
like Hagar, I could die in the wilderness, but I could not see
my child die. So I tried to escape, but I could not, and I was
obliged to lift my eyes to Heaven for their sakes. I did not
tell them that what I took for mirage was real,—I did not try
to turn stones into bread, I could only tell them of what I felt
must be the creed of Goethe, that creation is the garment of
God, and these shores of earth could not be all; there must
be something true and substantial behind the phenomenal.
The philosophy of St. John interpreted by Browning, the

consciousness of love in my own nature, bore witness to the
greater love of God. The Spirit within bore witness that there
was a Father of spiritual life, and therefore that a divine
sonship was possible for us. And as in our desolation we
looked up together, it seemed as if the old truth was coming
back to us, but in a new way. Jesus had taught it, only we
had not seen it before.... If we felt the witness of the Spirit
prompting us to cry, Abba Father, and if there was a Father,
this prompting must come from Him. And so I listened once
more for this Voice. And I was not left alone in the desert, as
I waited in my first grief. God sent to me messengers when I
had lain down there in the stupefaction of spiritual sleep.
They offered me angels’ food. I watered it with tears, but I
took it,—I ate it, whilst praying that God would take away
my life,—take it, lest I should tempt others into the stony
desert. Yes, I, who had refused to take others to the Lord’s
Table, because they were faint and hungry, and in the
highways of the world,—I, who had thought it profane,
thought now that my mere hunger gave me a right to come.
If He was indeed there, He might fill the empty cruse with
oil. He might hear me as I said, “We have no wine.” And I
remembered as I dared to come in my unbelief, the words I
had been taught, of the hungry being filled. I thought I had
once been of the mighty and rich, now I knew I was weak
and hungry, so I came. But I saw not the Master, only a
stranger whom I knew not, for my eyes were holden, and I
did not recognise Him.
‘Oh how often did I pine for death, not but that I could
have taken the suffering. I thought that was possible, if I
could have borne it alone. The grief was to feel that I should
lead others away, whether I spoke or was silent. This only
was right, never to say an untrue word, to teach what truth I
had. But I was pledged like a clergyman. Still I did not yet
know what I thought. I might read a little, for if I must find
Christ was dead, I hoped, begged, God would take my life,
that others might not die through me. With what joy did I see

sickness come, and what disappointment there was when it
was not unto death.
‘Sometimes I thought I would take some spiritual opiate,
—think no more, but try to kill self into a state in which
probability should content me. But I could not work nor pray
by such means. And if I could content myself by a sedative,
could I my children? No; I must go on till I could feel the
truth of those words ever recurring to me, “And dying rise,
and rising with Him, raise His brethren, ransomed by His
own dear life.”
‘In darkness, I thought, “He descended into hell,” and I
felt I would not rise unless I could bring my children too
with me.
‘What was the state of thought [at that time]? One could
only look and read and see amongst the most intellectual the
loss of hold on Christianity, and with those who believed,
one felt it had been as with oneself, the belief would not bear
the strain that would come; the tints were put on, were not
our life through assimilation.’[52]

Probably those to whom Miss Beale turned at first realised little of the
distress that prompted her questions.

‘I said, “Surely there must be some one who can help where I
am too weak and ignorant,” so I went to a distinguished
[teacher] whom I thought so able and strong, and his concluding
words sounded like a knell. “Nothing can be done.”’[53]

The darkest hour came during the early days of August when staying with
friends, from whom she vainly hoped to conceal her sorrow.

‘At first I was silent, but as I could only weep day and night,
I was obliged to tell them.... They kept me when I could not pay
other visits. Whilst wondering at my misery they tried to help
me by getting [books].’[54]

It was perhaps some relief—as of one who faces the worst—to note in her
diary each fresh incoming wave of sorrowful thought.

‘1882, August 6, Sunday. At church. A nice sermon on the
parable of the Unjust Steward. Talk of Newman’s books. J. said
A. had some. I, thinking of J. H. N., asked to borrow. [The
book] proved to be by the brother, F. Newman.
‘Monday, August 7. Read some [of F. Newman’s book].
Pitied him much.
‘Tuesday, August 8. 6 a.m.-8, read more. Miserable. After
breakfast walked alone. No letter. Could not go to dinner.
Terrible neuralgia. Wept nearly all day.
‘Wednesday, August 9. Awake at 4 a.m. Not up to breakfast.
Decided must write [my resignation]. All is dark. “Such clouds
of nameless sorrow cross, All night before my darkened eyes.”
The light has gone out of the heavens. Why [does] God leave us
without one word, His children orphans? Can He have left us to
delusions? Tears are my meat day and night. I cannot live an
untrue life. If Jesus be what I once believed Him, He would not
wish it. “Every one that is of the truth heareth My Voice.” Tried
to pray harder. Woke [as] in a dreary pine forest with beautiful

ferns. Felt there must be a presence behind them. Then the
trouble revived once more.
‘Thursday, August 10. Wrote my resignation. May my
children never know this sorrow. Christian teaching
spiritualised, as I have seen it, is the holiest and purest. Their
souls need not be orphaned as mine. [I] cannot stay [with them].
I could not play the hypocrite, I should hate myself. Without
Christ, I should not be what I was. If I could attempt to go on,
which I could not for a moment contemplate since it is untrue,
think if I were found out, the moral blow for my children. They
would think I had been false when teaching them my deepest
faith,—the joy of my life,—that which made all the suffering
bearable, and all gladness double, the love of Christ Jesus my
Lord, for whom I would suffer the loss of all things if I might
win Christ and be found in Him.
‘O Lord, Thou hast deceived me, and I was deceived.’

The immediate sequel to the story of these few days was told in a letter to a
friend:—

‘August 1882.
‘I was engaged to attend a religious conference at the end of
a week. I did not quite like to give it up, for there might
possibly be some hope of help, though I felt there was none. My
friends begged me to go,—there was just a chance. I went,—but
almost turned back after I had started, for I was so broken down
I could not restrain my tears, and I was ashamed to be seen.
Well, I met there [some] men of powerful mind, leaders of
thought in their different departments, who had gone through
periods of darkness, but had waited for the dawn, and now they
believed.... After two days I told my grief to a sympathising
friend, who was surprised at my wretchedness, and her calm
faith gave me a little calmness too. So the day before we were
to leave I ventured to tell all my trouble to the clergyman who
had invited me. I think I may dare to say that my faith has come
back—not as it was before, but more spiritual; once more I can
say the Creed, and I think I shall be able to teach again....’

The ‘religious conference’ was at Stoke, a little village in Shropshire, where
the rector, the Rev. Rowland Corbet, was in the habit of gathering some who
were earnestly studying the difficult questions of the day. Miss Beale wrote of
these gatherings in the letter already quoted:—

‘There are only about twelve staying in the house. No one is
put out of the synagogue for not seeing the truth, and they are
not afraid to ask questions, but none are invited who are not
supposed to be seeking for the light.’

That a door to the light was at this conference quickly opened for Miss Beale
may be seen in the letters she wrote, on her return to Cheltenham after it was
over, to the friends who had helped her so much:—

‘August 19, 1882.
‘Dear Mr. Corbet,—I could not say one word of thanks this
morning: I think you understood.
‘It is good for us tempest-tossed people to see the restful faith
of the veterans who come to help us. Certainly the old ship in
which I have somehow sailed upon the waves for so many years
is a wreck. I must try to believe He will set my feet upon a rock.
‘Yesterday things began to get clearer: your kind and patient
explanations of the alphabet of the spiritual made me follow the
discussion better afterwards, and I felt I could begin again to
join in the Church’s Creed with a deeper meaning than before. I
suppose one can’t expect to come out of the grave at once,—but
how different is this Saturday from last, it seems as if some æon
had gone by. I don’t know yet what I think, except that I believe
I shall see the light and rise and always remain, yours very
gratefully,
D. Beale.’

To Mrs. Russell Gurney:—

‘August 27, 1882.

‘Dear Mrs. Russell Gurney,—I have had such a happy
Sunday,—I can hardly believe it is the same earth that seemed
to me so dead the week before, when I could not go to Church,
but wandered about quite desolate.
‘Three weeks ago, if any one had spoken, as I am doing now,
I should have thought it superstitious, and I don’t think it will
be well either for myself or others to speak much of it now, only
to one who, like you, understands—and who helped to take off
the “grave-clothes.”
‘I want to use my limbs first, to get back to my old work
now, and see if there is really a new life; I want to see if I can
help some for whom I could do nothing before.
‘I am with delightful people. Mr. Webb is just a living picture
of Chaucer’s Good Parson and well known in the scientific
world: his special field is astronomy. He showed us a wonderful
gas-nebula on Saturday night. He quite believes in spiritual
manifestations, and seems to think with Professor Barrett about
the ether.
‘I have to thank you much, dear Mrs. Gurney, for your
sympathy. It was such a help to me to be able to speak to you. I
meant to say nothing to any one, but I could not help it. The
story of your own vision helped me, as it was something like
my own: it is so much what Browning describes at the end of
“Saul,” when David has realised the Divine love, and feels the
living pulse beating in all nature. Everybody helped me in some
way, but especially Mr. Corbet’s teaching, which seems
wonderfully beautiful.
‘I dare say it was the same last year; but different to me,
because I was comparatively satisfied then, not poor and needy
(as I came this time), and therefore ready to understand.
‘“I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice”: my text
for to-day.’

She felt like one set free from prison, but the newly recovered liberty was
used with caution. ‘You will like to know,’ she wrote to a friend in the following
year, ‘that the fitful gleams of sunlight, which used to come after the dark night,

have become now something like a steady shining. I was able to get a few quiet
days at Christmas, and then first I began to feel that I should be able to give
thanks for this terrible experience, and the thankfulness has grown ever since.’
As she said, the thankfulness grew. But in the very heart of the fire she had
felt no regret, known no complaining. She was willing to suffer, if by that
means she might help the more. On August 15, just a week after the day she
always remembered as ‘Tuesday the 8th,’ she wrote of one whose calling in life
was to teach others: ‘You say he has been reading sceptical books; I want him to
go on doing so. He must know how deep the questions go, or he will be fighting
windmills, as I have done.’
It will be asked by what steps the ascent was made, and what the height from
which the new spiritual horizons were discerned; what was the train of thought
which brought back the possibility of saying the Church’s Creed? The mental
process, if it can be disentangled from an exercise which engaged all the
faculties of soul and spirit, was probably that suggested in the words of Amiel:
‘Chacun ne comprend que ce qu’il retrouve en soi.’ But the research and the
retrieval were not simply individual and within, they involved the scrutiny of
widespread religious instincts, cravings and needs. They were aided above all
by the contemplation of martyr deaths and martyr lives, which in their
continuous and abiding witness to the faith are seen to constitute a claim to
authority.
Miss Beale herself strove to show how the doubting spirit was silenced by an
answer of faith, in a little paper called ‘Building,’ which is dated September 8.
Here she wrote:—

‘Sweep away external proofs, we must believe in a God and
in His love.
‘We see He speaks to His children through the wondrous
language of Nature, drawing them to His Heart and teaching
ever new trust through it.
‘He shows His Father Heart in the love of the human,
ignorant,—for the child.
‘In all ages He has made man feel His Presence in the heart
and yearn after Him.
‘There is a long witness down the ages that to those who long
for His Presence and follow holiness, He gives the great reward

of His conscious sympathy, speaking in their hearts, so that they
know it is His Voice. In different ages, in different ways, as men
need the language they understand.
‘To Abraham and the prophets, to Socrates, to Buddha
teaching the Karma, to Moses the divine writing,—to saints
who sought Him in later times.
‘Why impeach the testimony of Christendom as to the
Resurrection, if it is what we must believe in, if it is just the
good news for which the world was then dying? We know Paul
and John believed it, and men believed them then; and the
miracle of the Christian Church which is before our eyes, and
the teaching of the Christ is found to be the food of the soul,
and in prayer as men drink it in, they hand on Sacramental life,
which is its own witness. We want that!
‘We can believe that for some inscrutable reason the Eternal
educates His children in time.
‘Perhaps we have to go through these depths of blankness
that we may not bottle up the spiritual to one time or church or
country, but believe God is really eternal, omnipresent; that He
does dwell with him who is of a contrite and humble spirit, and
who trembles at His Presence felt in the darkness. We have to
learn to see the Spirit of Christ dwelling in each man,
regenerating him to the true and higher life.
‘We have to see it is God’s method to work through the man,
—therefore the treasure is in earthen vessels,—the light is
dimmed by the medium. But if it were given whole and
complete by angels, the moral nature could no more be drawn
out than the intellect could have been, had God revealed the
kalendars and Kepler’s Laws.
‘So through the Man Christ Jesus, Who emptied Himself ere
He could speak to man, Who, as His wondrous teaching, life
and resurrection testify, stood in some different relation to God
than other men, God has spoken to the whole world.’

Another paper of this period, entitled ‘Of my Religious Opinions,’ concludes
thus:—

‘Yes, it was this. The consciousness of a universal life of God
in man which lifted me up once more to see God in Christ, to
see the New Man coming to the birth in all for whom Christ
lived, and the whole world existed that this might be, that the
whole being of the creature might be lifted into responsive
sympathy with a sympathetic Father, and those followers of
Christ Who was ever preaching the religion of Humanity were
to lift the imperfect yet real Church of Christ to a higher life.
Upon a world which seemed dead, which no prophet staff could
restore, they were to stretch themselves, heart to heart, their
own warm palpitating life was to rouse, and the power of love
could raise the dead. We must learn that old lesson that no
creature is common or unclean. We must enter as never before
into the full meaning of the Name by which God was known to
Abraham—I AM,—the Eternal. Ours has been a God of time,
He is the Living God, lighting every man that cometh into the
world. But here, light is struggling with darkness. There shall be
no night there in that day dawn beyond the tomb.
‘Have you not been taught that the written word is imperfect
without the heavenly interpretation, and does not your own
experience confirm this, and the history of the records of the
Christ bear it out? Enough we have as a foundation, but we
must build thereon, or there will be no home for our soul. This
is the method of God, revealing to us that we can only help one
another. God must teach us all. They shall be all taught of God,
here and hereafter.
‘Here the phenomenal and the imperfect is the only possible
revelation to man, but through these he is being educated for the
real, the actual. He will one day know God.’

The writer of these words might indeed have sung, ‘Thou hast set my feet in
a large room.’ But the daily journal shows no trace of exultation, far less of
relaxing watchfulness. It is surely impossible to exaggerate the importance of
the jealous care with which devotional rules were guarded. More than all the
high thoughts and noble imaginings with which she was so wonderfully gifted,
this lifelong obedience came to her aid in the great crisis. Habits of prayer, daily
acts of self-sacrifice and self-consecration, had been maintained even when
their meaning seemed to be clouded. When sight was restored, when a greater

sense of spaciousness came into her life, they were there to protect her in the
newly found liberty. The tale of them remains to show that the doubts of this
dark year were akin to that thirst for God which in all ages has been the portion
of the saints.
May it not be said that they were the outcome of a passionate desire to help;
that this descent into darkness as of the grave was necessary to one who yearned
to give herself utterly to aid others to find the way to the light? ‘Can ye drink
indeed?’ was asked of those who willed to share the divine work and joy, and in
all times it has been given to a few to be brought through suffering into that
region of consciousness in which they are made ‘able.’

CHAPTER X
THE GUILD
‘We have a picture which gives the ideal of a College—the Golden Staircase—whence each
should go forth into the great world carrying some beautiful instrument with which to utter the
music which is in her heart.’—D. Beale, Guild Address, 1894.

Miss Beale’s circle of influence definitely widened beyond the College itself
in 1880 when the first number of the Magazine appeared. It opened with a
characteristic introduction from the Lady Principal, who up to her death
remained the editor.
The Magazine was started, said Miss Beale, in order that past and present
members of the College might enrich each other by interchange of thoughts.
Mere information concerning the temporary doings of one’s friends was a
secondary consideration, the value of which was, however, fortunately seen by
sub-editors and others. A column of births, deaths, and marriages became
established in the Magazine as early as the second number. This naturally in
time developed in interest. The obituary column came to include all who had
the slightest connection with the College; newspaper accounts of those who
were in any way distinguished were also added.
In 1887 the first Chronicle of passing events belonging to the College and its
old members was inserted, though the space for it was grudgingly afforded by
the editor, who could not bear to limit her space for the budding ideas she loved
to foster. Soon, however, she came to value what was practically a
contemporary history of the College, and as her pride in her old pupils increased
with years, it became a great pleasure to notice all their doings in varied walks
of life. Engaged in philanthropic work, in literature, in art or society, they were
all of interest to her, and not among the least dear were those whose homes lay
in foreign parts, those closely connected with the diplomatic service and the
growth of the British Empire.[55] The Chronicle was a portion of the Magazine
sure of finding readers, but there was no page more welcome to all than the
brief but pithy preface in which the editor named the chief contents, touched on
some matter of note to the readers, or urged forward the lagging subscriber.
As the College interest widened with the ever-increasing number of old
pupils, the Chronicle became too limited a record to stand alone. When the

Magazine was about seventeen years old ‘Parerga’ appeared for the first time,
telling of activities which lay outside the immediate scope of College work, yet
were due in part to the influence of the Alma Mater, to ‘the spiritual force, the
higher volition and action.’ Miss Beale, who found in the Magazine a strong
link with her large scattered family, also in later years freely printed letters she
received from various members abroad. She did not care much for articles on
travel, writing on one occasion that she received too many descriptions, and
would like in their place to have more records of observation in the fields of
natural history and other sciences. But she treasured letters, and showed them
widely. Indeed, it was sometimes startling for the writer of a private letter to
Miss Beale to find whole extracts published in the Magazine for all the world to
see.
Almost from the beginning there were reviews of books. These were
generally written by the editor. There were also notices of books by old pupils.
Of these Miss Beale was proud, and she never failed to mention them, often
reprinting portions of reviews by the press; but she would not review them
herself, saying, ‘Books by old pupils claim our notice; we must leave criticism
to those less interested in the writers.’
Fortunately Miss Beale was not content with merely reviewing and editing.
Many a number of the Magazine contained a long contribution from herself,
such as an article reprinted from another periodical, an address given at a
gathering of old pupils, or at some more general meeting. The first two editions
of the History of the College were also printed here. Of her articles which were
not of special College interest, the most notable were those upon Browning.
One of these, written in spring 1890, shortly after the poet’s death, contains a
brief clear statement of the value of his philosophy. The other writers of the
Magazine have been chiefly old pupils, some of whose names, as, for example,
those of Jane Harrison, Beatrice Harraden, Bertha Synge, May Sinclair, are
known in wider fields of literature. But any who made a sincere effort were
welcomed, encouraged, and—edited. Present pupils have rarely written, but of
late an attempt has been made to secure more contributions from these.
Members of the Council, and others connected with the College by the ties of
friendship or work, frequently helped the Magazine with papers or verses. For
years every number was enriched with a poem or article from the pen of Mrs.
James Owen, that friend whose keen intellectual interests and strong sympathy
were put so largely at Miss Beale’s service when this literary venture was first
made.

To find contributors Miss Beale went even beyond the outer circle of the
College. ‘We always hope to have some good writing in our Magazine, thus to
maintain a high standard,’ she had said at the beginning. She liked to gain the
notice of those who were eminent in literature or science for this dearly loved
literary child, and as occasion brought her in contact with any who were
distinguished for the things she appreciated she would send them the Magazine,
often asking for a paper. Letters from people of widely differing thought and
position, acknowledging the receipt of the Magazine, are now in the College
archives. They vary in warmth and interest. The late Bishop of Gloucester and
Bristol wrote in 1889: ‘However busy I may be, I always find time to read
portions of [the Magazine], and I am always thankful to recognise not merely
the cultivated, but the wise and—what we men specially value—the womanly
tone that characterises it. I read with much interest your article on the Sorbonne
gathering.’ Bishop Westcott in 1890 wrote, on receiving the number containing
Miss Beale’s ‘In Memoriam’ article on Browning: ‘May I confess that when the
copy of the Ladies’ College Magazine came this morning with the letters, my
correspondence was at once interrupted? I felt constrained to read your words
on Browning, just and wise and helpful and suggestive.’ Some notes are little
more than the acknowledgment of a polite friend who had ‘already cut the
pages.’ The request for contributions was not always granted; sometimes it was
won by a little importunity. It brought about rather an amusing incident with Mr.
Ruskin, whose letters on the subject and on some of Miss Beale’s own
Magazine articles are too characteristic to be omitted.
Miss Beale sent him the number containing her paper on ‘Britomart.’ He
replied at once:—

‘March 12, 1887.
‘Have you not yet to add to your Britomart, at p. 219, due
justification of Feminine—may we not rather call it Disguise—
than Lie? And, for myself, may I say that I think Britomart
should have sung to the Red Knight, not he to Britomart.—Ever
faithfully yours,
J. Ruskin.’

Five days later he wrote:—

‘But I much more than like your essay on Britomart.

‘I am most thankful to have found the head of a Girls’
College able to do such a piece of work, and having such
convictions and aspirations, and can only assure you how glad I
shall be to find myself capable of aiding you in anything.... I
trespass no further on you to-day, but have something to say
concerning ball-play as a Britomartian exercise, before saying
which, however, I will inquire of the Librarian what ground
spaces the College commands, being so limited in its
bookshelves.—And believe me, ever your faithful servt.,
John Ruskin.’

Miss Beale replied to this by sending her paper on ‘Lear,’ to which came this
response:—

‘March 22, 1887.
‘I am entirely glad to hear of the Oxford plan, which seems
faultless, and am most happy to get the King Lear, though I
hope you have never learned as much of human life as to be
able to read him as you can Britomart. What I want to know is
whether Cordelia was ever so little in love—with any body,
except her Father.’

Two days later came the following:—

‘March 24, 1887.
‘I have been reading your Lear with very great interest. It is
one of the subtlest and truest pieces of Shakespeare criticism I
ever saw, but just as I guessed—misses the key note. You never
enter on the question what it is that drives Lear mad! And
throughout you fall into the fault which women nearly always
commit if they don’t err on the other side,—of always talking of
love as if it had nothing to do with sex.... I am extremely glad to
note your interest in and knowledge of music.—Ever faithfully
and respectfully yours,
J. Ruskin.’

After this letter there was a pause in a correspondence which had been kept
up pretty briskly on various subjects. In June, however, Miss Beale wrote again,
—the purport of her letter may be gathered from the answer.

‘June 8, 1887.
‘I never have been ill this year; the reports you heard or saw
in papers were variously malicious or interested. But I have
been busy, in very painful or sorrowful business—at Oxford or
at home—nor even in the usual tenor of spring occupation
could I have answered rightly the different questions you sent
me. Especially, I could not tell you anything of your paper on
Lear, because I think women should never write on
Shakespeare, or Homer, or Æschylus, or Dante, or any of the
greater powers in literature. Spenser, or Chaucer, or Molière, or
any of the second and third order of classics—but not the
leaders. And you really had missed much more in Lear than I
should like to tell you.
‘I really thought I had given the College my books—but if I
haven’t, I won’t—not even if you set the Librarian to ask me;
for it does seem to me such a shame that a girl can always give
her dentist a guinea for an hour’s work, and her physician for an
opinion; and she can’t give me one for what has cost me half
my life to learn, and will help her till the end of hers to know.
‘Please go on with your book exactly as you like to have it. I
have neither mind nor time for reading just now.—Ever most
truly yrs.,
J. Ruskin.’

Mr. Ruskin permitted the reprint of a few extracts from his own writings in
the Magazine, on which his criticism as a whole was not very encouraging. One
of his letters, indeed, called forth a protest from Miss Beale, to which he replied
thus:—

‘June 15, 1887.
‘Dear Miss Beale,—I am grieved very deeply to have
written what I did of your dear friend’s verses. If you knew how

full my own life has been of sorrow, how every day of it begins
with a death-knell, you would bear with me in what I will yet
venture to say to you as the head of a noble school of woman’s
thought, that no personal feelings should ever be allowed to
influence you in what you permit your scholars either to read or
to publish.’

And again a few days later:—

‘Brantwood, Coniston, Lancashire, June 19, 1887.
‘Dear Miss Beale,—So many thanks, and again and again I
ask your pardon for the pain I gave you. I had no idea of the
kind of person you were, I thought you were merely clever and
proud.
‘These substituted verses are lovely.—Ever gratefully (1)
yrs.,
‘J. R.
‘(1) I mean, for the way you have borne with my letters. You
will not think it was because I did not like my own work to
have the other with it that I spoke as I did.’

Mr. Shorthouse also once contributed to the Magazine, sending a little story
called ‘An Apologue.’
The work entailed by the Magazine was, on the whole, pleasant and
interesting to its editor. But she was grieved sometimes if she thought old pupils
did not appreciate it, or if contributions fell short. It was not always easy to get
enough articles of the kind she desired, and the difficulty was increased by the
severe censorship she exercised. ‘About one hour wasted in fretting over
Magazine,’ runs the diary of April 2, 1891.
The Magazine was not without its faults. ‘How bad the best of us!’ says
Punch, according to Ruskin. But it had the conspicuous merit of offering
encouragement to young writers, of promoting a spirit of unity, and fostering
sympathetic interest among those whose lives were necessarily far apart. ‘We
hope,’ Miss Beale had said in her first preface, ‘that the papers on work may be
helpful in suggesting ways of usefulness.’[56] This hope was practically realised.

How far the young writers profited by each other’s thoughts can be less easily
gauged; but doubtless some learned at least one lesson the Magazine was meant
to teach, that if they intended to work, they ‘must not shrink from the hardest
and most fruitful work, i.e. thinking.’[57]
Miss Beale’s influence was again extended in manifold and ever-developing
ways when, in 1883, the first meeting of former pupils was held in the College.
At this date the number of regular pupils was five hundred. Only six years
before a proposal had been made to limit the numbers to three hundred, but each
year saw an increase, and a consequent addition to the ranks of those who
carried the influence of the College into the larger world outside.
It had been felt for some time by the Principal and others to whom the
College was dear, that an association of old pupils should be formed, but of
what nature and name could not be determined without a representative
meeting. A suitable occasion for this presented itself in 1883, which was a sort
of Jubilee year for the College, Miss Beale having then been its Principal for
twenty-five years. Many old pupils expressed a wish to mark the great occasion
by a personal gift to Miss Beale; she, as was to be expected, asked that it might
be given to her ‘husband,’ the College. It was a moment of almost unsullied
prosperity, as could be seen by the buildings which were constantly growing
more stately and suitable. In the previous year they had been much enlarged,
and the whole College life benefited by the addition of the Music and Art wing.
The old music-rooms were little better than cupboards, the new ones contained
light, air, and space, as well as the necessary pianoforte. The first drawing-room
was but an insufficient classroom, in which a cast of any size could not be
placed. The new studio was spacious and properly lighted. Both additions at this
period spoke of Miss Beale’s method in educational development, also of the
order in which her own full mental life unfolded. First she would have the
exact, the severe, the discipline of grammar and rule, then the expansion of
beauty in thought and symbol.
And the gift of the old pupils could not have been better chosen. It took the
form of an organ for what was then the largest hall, the First Division Room.
Here the daily prayers of the three divisions took place. Sir Walter Parratt
settled the specifications for the organ, which was placed above the Lady
Principal’s dais.
The choir, which up to this time had been dependent on the aid of a
harmonium, was augmented and improved, and the daily music at the school
prayers became a feature of College life in which Miss Beale took delight.

Occasionally her directions to the choir were embarrassing. She liked music to
be very piano, and required a great deal of expression to bring out the full
meaning of the words sung.
Mr. Ruskin was also momentarily interested by it. He was as suggestive and
dogmatic on the subject as on any other that he touched. Once he wrote to Miss
Beale, ‘All music properly so called is of the Celestial Spheres. It aids and gives
law to Joy, or it ennobles and comforts Sorrow.’ On hearing of the organ and
‘girl-organist,’ he hoped ‘to be able to work out some old plans with her,’ and
unfolded them thus:—

‘I think you may be willing to help me in the plan chiefly for
the last four or five years in my mind, of getting a girls’ choral
service well organised in a college chapel. The most beautiful
service I have ever heard in any church of any country is that of
the Convent of the Trinità at Rome, entirely sung by the sisters,
unseen; and quite my primary idea in girl education—peasant or
princess, is to get the voice perfectly trained in the simplest
music of noblest schools. Finding your organist is a girl, and
that she is interested in the book on Plain Chant I sent her, it
seems to me my time has come, and I am going to write to Miss
Lefevre at Somerville, Miss Gladstone at Newnham, and Miss
Welch at Girton, to beg them to consider with you what steps
they could take to this end. If you could begin by giving enough
time for the training of the younger girls, I think I could, with
that foundation, press for a more advanced action in the matter
at Cambridge and Oxford.’

Miss Beale obviously replied to this with some questions about the training
of the choir, for Mr. Ruskin’s next and rapidly following letter closes thus:—

‘As for the choir, nothing is necessary but a due attention to
girls’ singing, as well as their dancing. It ought to be as great a
shame for a girl not to be able to sing, up to the faculty of her
voice, might I say, as to speak bad grammar. You could never
rival the Trinità di Monte, but could always command the
chanting of the psalms with sweetness and clearness, and a
graceful Te Deum and Magnificat.’

Besides the organ, Miss Beale’s wedding gifts included the first light of a
stained-glass window above the new grand staircase. This was drawn by Miss
Thompson, and executed by Clayton and Bell. Miss Beale herself chose the
subject for the whole—a series of scenes from her beloved story of ‘Britomart.’
Over and above the opening of the new buildings, and the installation of the
wedding gifts, there was in the early part of the summer term some excitement
and much pleasant sense of preparation for the gathering of old pupils fixed for
the 6th and 7th of July.
Then, into the midst of the glad anticipation, came as with transcendent
suddenness Mrs. Owen’s death on June 19. Hers was indeed

‘a spirit that went forth
And left upon the mountain-tops of death
A light that made them lovely.’

But for many the happiness of the coming meeting was marred, most of all
for her in whose honour it had been largely arranged. Miss Beale made no
change, but went through all the proceedings as they had been planned,
dwelling never for a moment on her sense of bereavement and loss, but
speaking calmly even in public of the life that had passed out of sight.
The first meeting, on the evening of July 6, was a conversazione in the Upper
or Second Division Hall. An unexpectedly large number of old pupils were
present, and on the next day at the ordinary College prayers Miss Beale gave
what was practically the first Guild address. Though made on an occasion of so
much personal interest and gratification to herself, this address was remarkable
not only for the piercing insight with which she ever penetrated below what was
apparent or obvious, but also for what, for want of a better word, must be called
its soberness. Touched, emotional as the speaker always was, keenly alive to the
sense of union and communion with all lives that in the highest sense had come
in contact with her own, happy in recognising the College to be a step by which
souls might ascend out of mere material interests, marking with joy its noble
work in the progress of the ‘higher education’ of women, she chastened all
excess of feeling by the calm sincerity with which she could contemplate ‘Even
in the green, the faded tree.’ ‘Schools too,’ she said, ‘like the members of which
they are composed, have their period of growth, manhood, and decay. Some tell
us the first is over for us, and that we, too, have settled down into vigorous

manhood. I am not so sure that we have quite done with growth, even in the
outside body; but however that may be, I trust there is that among us, which is
not even like the most substantial building, not like the outward form, liable to
decay and death.’
Thus quietly she spoke, marking for all that heard her that there was no
commonplace elation or poor ambition in her thoughts and feelings for her
school. On this really momentous occasion for the College, when its members
as a whole were summoned to catch a glimpse of all it could be of help and
blessing in a far larger world than its own, the Principal spoke less of work
accomplished than of growth, and ‘the silent witness of a beautiful life as a
power to bless.’ She said less about the gifts with which the College had been
enriched, than of some visible sacraments of Nature with which these gifts
should bring them into touch. She dwelt specially on the great meanings of
music. ‘In the Psalm of Life each is necessary to the perfection of that glorious
music, which we shall hear and understand when the discords of earth have
been resolved.’
In conclusion Miss Beale sketched the possibility of an association of old
pupils, such as already existed in some boys’ schools, and was not wholly
unknown among girls. ‘When I read of meetings of old Etonians, Rugbeians,
Marlburians, and of works undertaken by them in common, and know how
strong is the tie of affection which binds many of our old pupils to their Alma
Mater, I have often wished there were some means of uniting us into an
association.’ She named also the uses and aims of such an association. It is
needless to say that though its members strive to bear in mind the objects their
Principal and President put before them, rules, precisely to embody them, could
not be framed.

‘Members should consider themselves united together to help
in sustaining, especially in distant countries, as high an
intellectual and social standard as possible, first amongst those
of their own class. Thus reading societies, mutual improvement
societies, libraries, etc., would be helped on by them. They
would bear in mind the College motto, “Let no man think or
maintain that a man can search too far or be too well studied in
the Book of God’s Word, or in the Book of God’s Works; but
rather let men endeavour an endless progress and proficiency in
both; only let men beware that they apply both to charity and
not to grovelling; to use and not to ostentation.”[58] Some

articles of their creed would be—(a) that influence radiates
from a centre, and hence it is a duty all through life to continue
one’s own education; (b) that the nearer we stand in intellectual
and social position, the stronger are our ties to any, and the
greater are our duties; (c) that the worst thing one can do with
any talent one possesses is to bury it. Rules would have to be
framed concerning admission.’

Miss Beale added that secretaries to the proposed association had already
been appointed: Mrs. Ashley Smith for the general work and organisation, Miss
Flora Ker as local secretary. This announcement of her appointment to what
proved to be a very strenuous work was the first suggestion that Mrs. Smith
received that she should even undertake it. In an article in the next Magazine
Miss Beale unfolded her plan more fully, suggesting a few rules. She proposed
further that the badge of the association should be a little brooch engraved with
a figure of her beloved Britomart.
The idea of a guild of old pupils was eagerly received, and a committee at
once formed to deal with its organisation. In all these arrangements Miss Beale
showed great strength of mind and self-control in being able to stand aside and
let others work out the details of the scheme, even submitting her own judgment
to that of the younger ones, whom she thought called upon to do the work. Yet
she was in a true sense President of the Guild, guiding and directing where she
would not command. Indeed, this ever-growing society which multiplied
interests for her was largely her own inception, at a time when her special work,
the College, was also increasing rapidly. The power of mind which could keep
the right hold on both is certainly rare.
The first committee consisted of associates of the College and a few other old
pupils. Meetings were held to draw up the organisation of the new society, and
this was made known at large in a delightful article by Mrs. Ashley Smith in the
Magazine for spring 1884. In this the writer adventured far enough into the
future to be able to suggest the possibility, at no very distant date, of some
corporate work, ‘such as is done by many boys’ schools,’ but in 1884 the time
for this had not arrived for Cheltenham girls.

The Lower Hall, Ladies’ College Cheltenham
from a photograph by Miss Bertha Synge.

The second large gathering of old pupils, which took place on July 8 and 9,
1884, is always reckoned as the first meeting of the Guild, the association being
on that occasion formally founded under the name of ‘The Guild of the
Cheltenham Ladies’ College.’ It is interesting to note that what then seemed a
large gathering really included less than eighty former pupils of the College; ten
years later, at the fourth Guild meeting, there were nearly five hundred, and the
number has increased ever since. The daisy was chosen as an emblem for the
Guild: its choice and its significance were explained by the President in her

address on Saturday, July 9. In a second address at this time, given after the
candidates for Guild membership had received their ‘Masonic sign,’ Miss Beale
dwelt chiefly on the practical questions arising out of the existence of the new
association. She spoke of the difficulty of decision among the many opinions
which must necessarily exist in a large college; she hoped that ‘whatever
decision might finally be arrived at, all would cheerfully submit to it, and if
their own individual tastes were not in every case gratified, would find their
satisfaction in giving up their own wishes for the sake of the majority. She
herself had had to submit, she hoped cheerfully, to an adverse vote.’ The rules
were then read. Of these it is sufficient to say here that they made it difficult for
any one whose life was spent in a mere pleasure-seeking spirit to be a member
of the Guild. The rules were accepted for two years, and two courses of study
were suggested for junior members.
In the year following these meetings, Mrs. Ashley Smith wrote an article for
the Magazine on the reports received from various members and on the general
working of the Guild, which by the end of 1885 numbered nearly two hundred
members. This is now an old story, nor is there anything specially remarkable in
the many details of work in Sunday-schools and coffee-clubs. Yet even at the
time when the Guild, compared with its present self, looked little more than
‘seven maids with seven mops,’ the tale of individual work done shows that
already much quiet persistent effort was being made by Miss Beale’s old girls.
This association, founded on principles rather than rules, was indicative of its
origin in a mind which habitually dwelt rather on being than doing. The small
beginning, the gradual steady growth, the outcome of ideals and thoughts, were
consistent with the whole of the College history. And to re-read the story of the
foundation of the Guild is to remember once more how many quiet,
unobtrusive, untiring workers have helped to make that history. In especial, the
immense work and patience of the secretaries can perhaps never be adequately
recognised: the labour of merely reading and tabulating the reports was
considerable.

‘The General Secretary,’ wrote Mrs. Ashley Smith on one
occasion, ‘on receiving the reports enters under more than sixty
different headings the occupations of all the Guild members. It
will be easily understood that the task of reducing to order and
collating a chaotic mass of miscellaneous information on all
subjects, from the keeping of poultry to the study of Hebrew,
from making the beds to organising institutes, is not a very

simple affair, and that therefore an immense saving of time and
trouble is effected when the proper form is used, and it does not
become necessary to wade through a letter full of apologies and
exculpatory remarks, before one can arrive at the gist of the
report.’

On another occasion, after enumerating the different charitable and self-
improving societies to which Guild members belonged, she said:

‘It almost gives one a headache to read this long list of
occupations; and when at the end, hoping for a little breathing
space, we come to an “odd minute society,” it puts the finishing
touch to the bewildering sensation of restless activity, and one
begins to wish for a “Sit-down-in-peace-and-calm-yourself
Society.”’

The reports, a matter of obligation to the junior members of the Guild, were
often looked over by the President, who would surprise the secretaries by her
detailed knowledge of the home surroundings and characters of girls whom she
hardly knew by sight. ‘What is so-and-so doing now?’ she would ask, and on
being told, would say, ‘She ought to be doing more,’ or ‘less,’ and perhaps make
some other criticism. Not less surprising was her memory of former
discussions. ‘She never forgot,’ writes Mrs. Griffith, ‘what had been said.
Sometimes she began again, continuing the conversation just where we left off,
after a three months’ interval.’
The secretaries were also impressed by the way in which the President held
herself bound by its smallest rules. Miss Helen Mugliston, who succeeded Mrs.
Griffith as General Secretary in 1898, said Miss Beale was ‘perfect to work
under. Having given you the task, she gave also her absolute trust and support
throughout the whole of it.’
The second meeting of the Guild was held in June 1886, lasting from a
Friday evening to the following Tuesday morning. The President’s opening
address dealt with work and duty. This year, for the first time, the Guild was
also addressed by an outside speaker, the Dean of Gloucester. Mrs. Ashley
Smith, in summing up her impressions of the gatherings of this year, rejoiced in
the interest the members took in the proceedings. ‘We cannot,’ she added,

‘certainly be accused of a servile unanimity in opinions or in the expression of
them; but I hope we are united in underlying principles.’
It was not until two years later that the sense of fellowship was strengthened,
and the individual desires to help others directed by the resolve to organise a
corporate work, a work in which not only all Guild members might help
according to their opportunities, but in which also all old pupils and others
connected with the College might be invited to join. This was formally
proposed at the Guild meeting of 1888, and an idea as to what shape it might
take was thrown out in a paper then read, which told for the first time something
of what Miss Beale had done by means of the Loan Fund.
To say that Miss Beale wished the corporate work to be of such a nature as to
carry on that which she had long been doing for impecunious students, but
feebly expresses what was really an earnest desire and hope. The claim she had
upon the Guild, the importance that must attach to her lightest wish, was
recognised; and yet,—yet, many felt that there were stronger reasons still why
another kind of work should be chosen. Consequently no decision could be
made at once, and those who had heard and discussed the paper parted after
merely voting that the Guild ‘should undertake some corporate work.’ Among
so many workers there were necessarily many ideas; the question was too
important to be hastily decided, and it was resolved to give time for suggestions
to be made and considered before anything final was done. The Committee
appointed to consider these reduced them to three schemes of work, on which
all members were asked to vote. These were:—

1. A scheme for educating at College a few pupils who were
worthy of education, but unable to pay the fees.
2. A scheme for taking over an elementary school in order to
work it through teachers who had been trained in College.
3. The third scheme, which was carried, was submitted to the
Guild in these words: ‘That the corporate fund be devoted to
starting and supporting a mission in one of our large towns, the
place to be decided by the votes of the Guild Members.’

It was but natural that President and members should have different ideas on
such an occasion. Dorothea Beale, who had never ceased to hear and obey the
call she had received as a girl to help women, and with them the race, by means
of improved education, longed to see those she had taught and trained freely

sharing with others the very same advantages they had received. The difficulties
which beset her own youth were still fresh in her mind. The need for good
teachers still existed. She had seen the work she wanted the Guild to take up in
operation for years, knew that it did not pauperise, that it blessed giver and
receiver, and was increasingly fruitful, like good seed in good ground. On the
other hand, she had a profound suspicion of much charitable work of the day,
thinking that ‘it will quickly perish because it does not aim at developing
energy, inward power. To do for others what they ought to do for themselves is
to degrade them in the order of creation.’[59] She could far more easily bear to
see people suffering from hunger and nakedness than from loss of will power
and sense of responsibility. This was partly, perhaps, because she did not know
nor in the least realise the miseries and difficulties of extreme poverty.
Miss Beale’s misgivings about the East End work were probably never quite
set at rest. Writing to Mrs. Charles Robinson in 1899, she said: ‘I shall perhaps
sleep two nights at St. Hilda’s East. I feel the whole question of Settlements
most difficult. It was undertaken against my judgment, and yet the guidance all
the way seems to point to its being right. Sisters and Deaconesses are much
better for this work, yet there are some whom we can enlist who will never join
and could not join “Orders.”’
The Guild members who had been trained by their head not always
acquiescingly to ‘do the next thing,’ but to think out questions, to plan carefully
for the best if hardest, belonged to a new generation and had received another
call. They saw how greatly educated women were needed to deal with charity
organisation, with labour problems, with the children of the poor in schools and
workhouses. Many of them were already at work for these. They felt, too, that
they should take their part in helping to rouse others to study and work for the
poor. On the other hand, they saw the need for cheap, good girls’ education to
be one which was lessening every year. They had never felt it themselves, had
had no struggle for training under pressure of adverse circumstances. Finally,
they must have known that it was work which Miss Beale would not fail to
carry on, meeting every necessity which was brought to her personal notice.
On May 6, 1889, a general meeting of the Guild was held in London to
consider further the lines on which the adopted scheme should be carried out. It
was decided that the Guild Settlement should be made in London, in the parish
of St. John’s, Bethnal Green, described by its vicar, the Rev. G. Bromby, who
warmly welcomed the Cheltenham workers, as a ‘typical East End parish of the
better sort.’

At this meeting the President introduced the subject by saying:

‘I trust we shall be able to try to win harmony out of notes
not altogether concordant. Some of us come with a feeling of
disappointment that the scheme we desired has been rejected;—
I am one of these. I not only accept my defeat, I feel sure that
you have sought guidance of that inward oracle which must
ever be our supreme ruler, you have done what conscience
bade, and so it is right. As regards my own scheme, I only
allude to it to say, that having now to continue it single-handed,
I cannot help you as much as I could wish, and I just refer to it
to-day in the hope that you will remember it when I am no
longer here.’

In these few words only did Miss Beale at the time announce her own
disappointment and anxiety. There was much more she might have said, which
she did in effect say in an early draft of her speech, which she fortunately did
not destroy. Here her misgivings show themselves plainly. They were due to her
foresight and judgment, yet it is likely that in some ways the untried workers,
whom she feared were lightly taking upon themselves responsibilities to which
they might prove unequal, really knew more than herself of the scope and
details of the actual task before them.
This is what Miss Beale wrote but did not say:—

‘It is no use concealing from you, for I could not, that I am
greatly disappointed. But when I have said that, I have done; I
accept the defeat. Others whose schemes have equally been
rejected are suffering, thinking, perhaps, it is hard they have
been met with so little sympathy. If they do not think well to
join in this, no one will blame them, I hope, but will believe that
they refuse because they ought not to give except as conscience
requires, but let them give or spend in the best way they can all
they would have bestowed on the Guild scheme of their heart’s
choice.
‘This matter has brought before me many things which seem
to show that our organisation needs some more distinct ideal.
Like some “Topsy,” it could say in its infancy, “’spects I

growed!” But when it undertakes to do something on its own
account, then questions of power and how much power it
should exercise, the questions of law and liberty which need to
be faced, and which we shall, I trust, grow stronger and wiser in
facing,—these have come before me with painful strength
because as your President I had to face them. I was strongly
opposed to the London scheme; I felt we were far too young,
both in the age of the majority of our members, and also in the
age of our organisation, to undertake such a great scheme. I had
the strongest dislike to fashions in philanthropy, and especially
is it most undesirable to familiarise the young with lives led in
the slums of heathen London. Only those whose faith has had
years to grow strong seem called to such work.
‘I could not see the Head whom I could trust with its
management, and such a centre of work could not be ruled by
several equal Heads, or by a committee with almost no
experience and but little individual responsibility. The whole
thing seemed to me a mistake, and my heart sank as I thought of
myself as President over our Guild, working what seemed an
impossible scheme. Yet it is one of the first principles of
education to let children who are not grounded properly make
mistakes and so learn where they fail.’

Much happened to reconcile Miss Beale to the Settlement scheme. Miss
Catherine Newman, as her sister had done ten years before in aid of poor
students, volunteered to undertake the management of the work gratuitously,
and to pay her own expenses. Miss Newman was an old College pupil and a
member of the Guild. She was also a trained nurse, with long experience of
work among the poor. Miss Newman’s offer and the appeal of her old friend,
Mr. Bromby, had weight with Miss Beale. She felt less anxious about the efforts
of her ‘children’ if safe-guarded by the experience of those she knew and
trusted. Miss Newman could also sympathise with Miss Beale’s own
disappointment and anxiety, while she was confident of her large-mindedness in
this matter. This may be gathered from a letter she wrote to her in the course of
the proceedings at this time:—

‘ ... It is very good of you to set aside your own wishes and to
throw yourself into this scheme. I have thought many times

since the corporate work was talked about, that the freedom
both teachers and old pupils felt in proposing schemes of work
spoke volumes for their confidence in your generosity. Several
members of the Guild who felt drawn towards the mission
scheme said to me, “If I thought Miss Beale would wish me to
vote for the Loan Fund because it was her scheme I would do
so, but I believe that she would prefer that we should think for
ourselves and vote for the scheme which most commends itself
to us individually.” This confidence in your generosity and
sense of justice struck me greatly; they knew you too well to
fear for an instant that you might resent their taking a different
line, and I felt sure from all I had ever known or seen of you
that their confidence was not misplaced. Had you been able to
unfold your scheme to them the result might have been very
different, but of course it is too late now. If we were to renounce
the idea of the Home for workers in the East-end, the
elementary school would certainly take its place, and I am sure
that you have realised ere now that it would be unjust both to
the workers and the parish in which the Settlement is made to
make it a temporary thing. Either it must be the corporate work
of the Guild or it must be given up altogether,—at least so it
seems to me. We could not expect enthusiasm either to work or
support if it might be withdrawn at any moment. As regards
your scheme, dear Miss Beale, I am truly sorry that it had not
really a fair chance from the accident of its not being ripe yet
for publicity. Two years hence might have been soon enough,
yet I need not remind you that the “corporate work” was
suggested by yourself. I am not afraid to say, however, that your
scheme is sure of support and success, and this I trust while
your powers are still unimpaired; but if, unfortunately, your
strength should oblige you to limit your useful labour before it
is fairly launched, I have every confidence that your friends and
“children” would look upon it as a sacred legacy, which it
would be their pride and pleasure to inherit from you.’

At the very moment that the Cheltenham Settlement was about to be opened
in Bethnal Green, the ladies of Oxford were prepared to start one in the same
district. For the convenience of both, an arrangement was made by which the
two sets of workers could live together for a time, under one head, Miss

Newman, until the resources of each, and the work they were called upon to do,
were better known. Mayfield House, close to St. John’s Church, was therefore
taken and formally opened as a Ladies’ Settlement (at that time the second in
London), on October 26, 1889. Four years later, as suddenly as her sister at
Jersey House, Miss Newman died at her post. ‘What can one feel,’ wrote a
friend to Miss Beale, ‘except that her death seems to seal the whole life with the
heroism of service.’
This trouble was the first link in a chain of circumstances which led, in the
course of three or four years, to the removal of the Settlement to Shoreditch,
where it became an important branch of that work to which Miss Beale gave the
title of St. Hilda’s.

CHAPTER XI
ST. HILDA’S WORK

‘Thy kindred with the great of old.’

Tennyson, In Memoriam, lxxiv.

Those who had often the advantage of hearing Miss Beale speak, either in
general addresses to present or past pupils, or in the more regular course of
literature lessons, soon learned that there were certain heroic names which had
for her an almost romantic fascination. Among those of great women who
influenced her imagination are specially to be remembered St. Hilda, St.
Catherine of Siena, la Mère Angélique, Mme. Guyon. Of these the most
dominant, the most inspiring was that of the great Northumbrian abbess, known
to those whom she taught and ruled by the name of ‘Mother,’ not by virtue of
her office, but on account of her signal piety and grace.[60] Hilda, the earnest
student who ‘had been diligently instructed by learned men, who so loved order
that she immediately began to reduce all things to a regular system.’ Hilda, the
patron of the first English religious poet, ‘who obliged those under her to attend
much to the reading of the Holy Scriptures; who taught the strict observance of
justice and other virtues, particularly of peace and charity.’[61] This great Hilda
and her work were to Dorothea Beale not merely romantic names, they were an
ideal, an inspiration. And when the due time came, though for the sake of Miss
Newman she hesitated for a moment over the alternative title of St. Margaret’s
Hall, the name of St. Hilda was the one she chose to grace her own foundations.
There are, possibly, members of the Ladies’ College who felt a pang of envy
when the Students’ House became St. Hilda’s College. They could have borne
to exchange the prim early Victorian title bestowed by the godfathers of 1856
for this more inspiring name. There is, however, consolation in the thought that
the Ladies’ College is still free to adopt the name of its second founder.
St. Hilda’s Hall, as it was at first called, was formally opened on November
27, 1886; but its real building was a much longer process, even if dated only
from Miss Margaret Newman’s death at the close of 1877. Miss Beale thought
much and anxiously how she could best lay out the money which she and her

staff and some friends had given in order that Miss Newman’s work might be
carried on and enlarged. She advised with a few who cared for education and
for the College. Among those who helped and counselled were Miss Soames,
who subscribed largely to St. Hilda’s, and Mr. Brancker, some of whose letters
on the subject remain. If there seems now to be little that is original in the
suggestions and plans discussed by Miss Beale and Mr. Brancker, it is because
they were to a great extent pioneers, and among the first to bring about a real
system for attaining the educational objects they had at heart. In 1878 Mr.
Brancker wrote:—

‘The object you advocate is a very desirable one, and one I
have longed for many a time as an adjunct of the Ladies’
College—but while we were struggling upwards I could never
see an opportune time to advocate my ideas on the subject. The
means you suggest are very undesirable, to my mind at least, as
partaking too much of the “charitable object” idea to commend
themselves to me.
‘So necessary do I consider the future training of those who
in their turns have to teach that for the present I should be
inclined to treat every case on its own merits; as there may be
many who may be anxious to get their education on such easy
terms and yet have not the very least idea of imparting that
knowledge to others, and in such cases the object you seek is
not attained.
‘My idea, which is perhaps a crude one, would be that the
capabilities of each pupil as regards teaching should be tested,
and if she showed suitable powers she should be drafted into
one of the boarding-houses, or if thought better into a separate
house; that the fees of the College in her case be remitted, and
that the expense of her board be paid all or in part by the
College. That for this she should engage to become a regular
teacher; that the College should have the first claim on her
services, and that she should pass all the necessary
examinations appointed by the College. If in a boarding-house
she might assist in keeping order and authority, not as a
governess but as an elder pupil,—not as a spy but by moral
power, keep her position, something like a præpostor in a public
school; a great deal of evil might then be prevented by being

nipped in the bud. Should she eventually wish to take a College
degree she should be assisted by the College if she remained
with them or under their control. My great object would be to
get ladies to accept such a position, as there must be many who
would come within the rules of the College as to position who
would be very glad to have such a vocation in prospect, and the
College ought to be in a position now, unless the funds have
been unnecessarily squandered, to afford to assist such cases in
the hope that in the future they would help it.
‘Such are my rough ideas on the subject, as I do not believe
in the isolation of those who want a practical knowledge of
human nature to enable them to become teachers worth their
salt.’

In a second letter on the same subject Mr. Brancker said:—

‘I quite understand what you feel about this matter relating to
the governess of the future, and it was only my fear that you
might be unwittingly getting into troubled waters that induced
me to write you at once about it. It is a very difficult question to
solve, and one that wants a good deal more thought so that no
mistake may be made. My plan is to take up the idea of a “pupil
teacher” in Government Schools, and from that form some plan
for the education of those who aspire to be the teachers of the
future. I should then carry out the idea I have always
entertained of giving a preference to our own pupils, and
working them up to our standard. I have always regretted that
we missed Bessie Calrow, as she was a born teacher and would
have delighted in the work. It seems to me that as you do not
take these pupils until they are seventeen, you have a great
chance among your own pupils, and would certainly know their
own character better than any stranger; therefore, to any one
who had passed through the College—could pass the necessary
examination, and was willing to be such pupil teacher—I would
pay the College fees and half the boarding-house expenses, or
all if you like, and would give her a fair trial, and if at the end
of twelve months, or longer as might be thought desirable, it
was not satisfactory to all parties, let her depart and no harm

would be done. This is a far better and more dignified position
than being educated by charity; and the person enjoying it
would lose nothing of her dignity, if it was not even added to by
the position. If the plan is to do any good it must be grafted on
to the College, and I for one should be very sorry to see that
obliged to go to the public for any funds it requires to do good. I
would make the pupils sign nothing on my plan, my hold upon
them would be their association with the College. I can quite
understand the difficulties raised by the boarding-houses about
new pupils at that age, but with old ones that difficulty is at
once removed; as, like the præpostors, they would have certain
privileges, but at the same time they must submit to the
discipline of the house. My plan may be, and no doubt is very
crude, but these are the lines I should start from and feel my
way tentatively, so as not to destroy the independence of the
individual. Look where you get the best masters of public
schools:—The man who succeeds is a scholar and very likely
Fellow of his College; he may have been Bible-clerk, sizar, or
undergraduate, and so has worked his way upwards and
obtained his position from hard work, thus adding to his dignity
and power of teaching. And I should follow as much as possible
in these tracks.’

Eventually the ideas expressed in these letters were carried out in the
arrangement of St. Hilda’s, which became not only a home for pupils who could
not afford the normal boarding fees, but also a residence for senior students who
needed more liberty than they could have in the other houses. By this means the
house was put on a self-supporting basis. Miss Beale could have borne with no
other. The Loan Fund, up to this time, had been the means of assisting over a
hundred students. Miss Beale now asked a few personal friends to support it,
pointing out that such a means of help was far better than any system of
scholarships, which she never ceased to dislike, and against which she
continually spoke and wrote. Her chief objections to scholarships have been
already noted.[62] She was moreover opposed to the principle of material giving
involved in the system. She only cared, at any time, to give what would
embrace and ennoble character. She thought it best that people should pay for
advantages received, thought they would value them more, thought it made girls
more careful and self-denying when first the management of money came into
their own hands, to feel that it was not their own to do as they pleased with. A

mere gift seemed to her like a dead thing compared with the money which, lent
and returned and then lent to others, was thus used over and over again. Yet the
want of response to appeals for the Loan Fund must have been partly due to a
difference of opinion on its method rather than to want of sympathy with Miss
Beale’s aims. There are many who feel an objection to saddling with a loan a
young teacher starting on her work, or who recognise that an unpaid loan may
help to lower the standard in money affairs, and on that account shrink from
giving help in this way. There are few indeed who could lend money so
successfully as Miss Beale could, because there are few who could so
successfully command repayment. Of the first £500 advanced by the Loan
Fund, £495 was repaid in a very few years. The pressure she would exercise for
repayment sometimes led to the wrong notion that she cared for money for its
own sake. She had at all times great skill in wringing the utmost use out of a
sum of money to promote those ends for which she lived; but in the ordinary
commonplace sense she was indifferent to money and the things for which it is
usually exchanged. Her own personal life was as bare of luxury when she was a
rich woman as it was when her capital was reckoned in hundreds only. But she
did care deeply for character, and anxiously avoided all forms of easy
generosity which might injure those she sought to help.
For several years before a turf was cut for St. Hilda’s College, Miss Beale
was, as she would herself have expressed it, building it: student teachers were
being trained in the College, and in 1881 one of these passed the Cambridge
Examination in the Theory and Practice of Education. Gradually she gathered
an increasing body of students in a separate house—a house which was as
unlike as any could possibly be to the beautiful home which was shortly to be
opened. She waited year after year for money with which to build without
interrupting the work she had begun in assisted education, and for the reasons
named made no public appeal for it. It was enough, she maintained, to state the
real needs—to show the value of a work by the way it was done—and thus let it
make its own appeal for support. She had a horror of plant which might be a
mere empty shell, or which in its establishment might become a diversion of
energy from spiritual work. She felt this especially in the matter of church
building, as may be seen in the following extract from a letter: ‘What I
disapproved of was the amount of begging for the Cathedral. I do not
disapprove of it, but I think you know what I felt. However, the Bishop will do
all he can to make it a strong spiritual centre. I can never get over the feeling of
spiritual destitution at one very beautiful cathedral.’ It was also, perhaps less
consciously, a principle not to take money except from those who were willing
for her to carry out her own ideas. She wrote to one friend in 1888:—

‘As regards our Students’ Home, I have given up the idea of a
public meeting. It seemed not right to refuse the offer at first.
But I shall go on with the work, and I doubt not the money will
come. There is such a great need for training teachers. If we had
a meeting things might be said and money be given in a way
which would pledge us, or be thought to pledge us, and now we
shall be free.’

And again in 1884 to one who helped her Oxford scheme:—

‘I grieve over that Protestant spirit which forbids people to
read books, to associate with people, who do not think precisely
in their way. Is this done in Science? No; we put various
theories before the student and show why we accept them. But
we don’t ever want to impose our beliefs; so I want not to
impose mine in religion, but to bring the learner to the “fountain
of living water.” Any transferred opinion is without root, and
cannot endure the storm. Teachers must, if they are to help, gain
the sympathy they need by entering into the religious modes of
seeing and feeling of many different souls. I think in a
University town they would come in contact with various
influences, and in a house like St. Hilda’s I should want
thoughtful people who have gone through some of the
experience of life,—old teachers to help the young. There is a
little more of my dream, but I am quite content to wait. If it be
God’s will that such a house should grow up, the way will be
pointed out. I felt I could not say all this to you when we meet,
and I have got to care that you should not misunderstand me.’

As the time to begin the actual erection of the house drew near she had no
exultation over the fulfilment of a dream. Yet in the beginning of August 1885,
surrounded by young teachers from her own and other schools drawn together
for a Retreat and a brief educational conference, her mind was naturally full of
that dream. Some few of her own thoughts about it she wrote down; such as the
following, with their characteristic heading:—

‘Sunday, Aug. 2, 1885—on St. Hilda’s. Some thoughts at
church.

‘God fulfils Himself in many ways. Lest one good custom
should corrupt the world.
‘How often have we seen endowments thus rendered
injurious, not helpful. So it is with many of the institutions
around us. Can we hope better things from this one? No, we can
only hope for it not a perfection but a temporary usefulness.
“He, after he had served his generation according to the will of
God, fell on sleep”;—so it is with men, so with institutions,
they need not a body but a spirit. As long as the spirit lives the
body is the instrument of all good works. When the spirit dies,
the body becomes the source of disease and corruption. For this
reason I have cared more to awaken the spirit than to gather
funds and build first. The spirit will, I hope, shape the body.
‘Now what we want is a body of women whose one desire is
to consecrate themselves to the ministry of teaching.
‘“Get work in this world.
‘Be sure ’tis better than what you work to get.”
‘Ye are the salt of the earth,—light of the world, said the
Lord to the teachers He sent forth.’

The first stone of St. Hilda’s College was quietly laid by Canon Medd (one of
the trustees and a member of the Ladies’ College Council) in 1884. The
opening, which took place on November 27, 1885, was far more dignified than
that its illustrious parent had known in 1856.
‘The ceremony of opening the institution,’ so ran the account in the
Cheltenham Examiner, ‘which was performed by the Bishop of the diocese,
took place at three o’clock, and was attended by a large and influential
company, who assembled in the study, a spacious—but on this occasion none
too spacious—apartment on the ground floor.’ Among those present were the
Dean of Winchester,[63] then Chairman of the College Council, who conducted
the short service, the late Bishop of Ely, and many of the clergy of the town,
besides the friends and benefactors of St. Hilda’s. On entering the study the eye
was caught at once by the words which Miss Beale quoted so often that they
seemed like the motto of her work: ‘Knowledge puffeth up, but charity buildeth
up.’ Here, in this ‘Godly Place,’ as he called the house, the Bishop of

Gloucester, who since 1875 had been both nominally and actually Visitor of the
Ladies’ College, gave an address full of sympathy for the ideals of the founder.
Thus the first resident Training College for teachers, other than elementary,
was planned, and built, and opened. In order to make its position more
permanent it was constituted into a separate College with a Council of its own.
In 1886 a statue of St. Hilda was presented and placed in the hall. On unveiling
it, Miss Beale spoke of the Saint’s life, and especially of her work as a teacher.
She concluded with a thought, the deeper for the personal touch in it, of
memory of what she had had to bear in the past, and indeed in later years also,
of misconception and misrepresentation.

‘Shall I touch in conclusion upon the mythical elements in St.
Hilda’s story? Myths are truths expressed in poetry. You see the
ammonite at her feet, one of the serpents that she, like St.
Patrick, is fabled to have turned into stone. There may have
been, once, at Whitby, serpents who, with the poisoned tooth of
calumny and evil-speaking, wounded and slew. I think she
turned them into stone with her look of sorrow. We have not
represented the wild geese, whom she is said to have destroyed
because they wasted her lands. I half believe that story too; I
feel sure that all these disappeared from her abbey lands, but
perhaps they were turned into swans.’

St. Hilda’s College was scarcely built and opened before it was necessary to
enlarge it by adding a new wing. It was not until this had been done that Miss
Beale felt free to devote herself to another foundation, which also was to bear
the name of the sainted Abbess.
As early as the year 1882 Miss Beale, attracted by the increasing facilities
offered to women by the elder universities, had purchased three acres of land in
north Oxford. These she retained for building uses should the right moment or a
definite reason for such a purpose occur. But no one showed much sympathy
with the scheme, there was no offer of money, and for long much of her own
capital was absorbed in St. Hilda’s, Cheltenham. Impulsive to a fault as she
often was, Miss Beale could school herself to wait. After five years came an
opportunity of purchasing a ready-made college in Dr. Child’s beautiful house
on the Cherwell. It seemed well to accept this, and begin there the new house of
education.

There were many reasons why Miss Beale allowed so long a time to elapse
between her purpose and her act. Her own ideas and her aims for her Hall at
Oxford shaped themselves but gradually. Somerville College[64] and Lady
Margaret Hall were still in their first youth. Miss Beale’s scheme seemed
uncalled for where there were already so many workers for the cause of
women’s education in the field. Her educational experience had been different
from that of those whose minds had developed among university surroundings;
her methods were unacademic, unconventional. Consequently there were some
to warn her as she prepared to take her new step: ‘The University may easily
receive a shock from which it will take long to recover.’
It may well be asked even now, as it was often asked at the time, why Miss
Beale wanted to come to Oxford at all, and particularly while she was uncertain
of the value of University Examinations for women. But she valued even more
than the certificate gained by taking schools the atmosphere of Oxford. She saw
that the students of St. Hilda’s, Cheltenham, missed this. When she founded that
institution she had written of it, that she hoped it ‘would be a Hall similar to the
Halls at Oxford and Cambridge.’ Now she felt the need of what only the older
universities could give. She hoped her new house might become a place of
intellectual enlargement and refreshment such as Oxford could best supply to
some who had already begun their work of teaching, and who needed new
thoughts and inspiration, more time for thought, a higher intellectual standard.
She thought that a year at Oxford could supply that feature in education which
is sometimes more developed at home.

‘I have often felt ... that a year in which they should be
allowed to expatiate in intellectual pastures in a way that we
older women used to do before examinations for women
existed, would be of great value. And they can do this best in
some University town, where they can have libraries and
museums and such lectures and private help as they most
require—both hearing and asking questions, rather than being
asked and answering.... Many could take one year who could
not take three.... The students of St. Hilda’s (Oxford) will have
the same opportunities of attending lectures and offering
themselves for examinations as at the other Ladies’ Colleges—
but we should not press examination upon any who can do
better work without. Of course we must be assured that those
who come to us will work seriously.’

Yet these reasons were secondary. The purchase of three acres of ground at
Oxford was a definite result of her own suffering of mind in 1882. As she
emerged from that she at once began to build in vision a house where teachers
should be established in the faith, where they should learn to feel that their
calling was not to do mere journeyman work, but to deal with the deep
problems of life.
Finally, it may be added that, whether conscious of it or not, she could not
keep herself out of the great movement which was enabling women to share
with men many of the incomparable advantages of University life, she had also
her own conception of what University life might do for women, and by means
of a College at Oxford for her own College at Cheltenham. For Cheltenham the
connection would be of great value. Seeing all that might be won by a well-
placed move, she planned that move, waited, then made it at the right moment.
‘I bewail your news,’ wrote an Oxford friend to whom she communicated the
fact that St. Hilda’s was about to be opened, ‘and disclaim all responsibility for
your mistake.’ Miss Beale opened her Hall and begged the students to accept
the words Non frustra vixi as their motto, that being the thought which the
ammonite at the feet of St. Hilda’s statue now suggested to her.
In October 1893 seven students took up their residence at St. Hilda’s. Mrs.
Burrows, who had had a College boarding-house at Cheltenham, came to be
head of the new Hall, assisted by her daughter, who had been a student at Lady
Margaret Hall. The house was formally but quietly opened on November 6 by
the Bishop of the diocese, Dr. Stubbs, who placed himself at Miss Beale’s
disposal for all arrangements. ‘I will keep,’ he wrote, ‘November 6 free for Miss
Beale, but she must let me hear what, when, and how what is to be done’; and to
Miss Beale, ‘You do not want me to bring robes on the 6th, do you? A line to
reassure me would be grateful.’
On the occasion of the opening, after the little service conducted by the Dean
of Winchester, the Bishop of Oxford spoke a few ‘grave and weighty words’ on
the duty of ‘self-culture of the whole mind, soul, and spirit.’ The Dean, who
thanked him for his address, said that ‘the new venture of the Cheltenham
Ladies’ College was by no means so ambitious as the Bishop seemed to think.’
He spoke of the way in which it might prepare women to be of real service in
their generation, and added: ‘One cannot think of this opening day for the
Oxford St. Hilda’s without strong emotions of gratitude and hope. This is the
crown and highest result of all that work for women’s education which has been
carried on under Miss Beale’s wise rule at Cheltenham these many years past;

the College, with its varieties of activity, and its eight hundred students, justly
claims to be represented here in the home of highest education.’

Photo. W. H. Rogers
S. Hilda’s Hall, Oxford.

Among the friends gathered for this opening ceremony was the founder of the
Ladies’ College, Cheltenham, Canon Bellairs. He welcomed this house in
Oxford, though he would have named it differently.

‘I am very glad to hear,’ he had written a month before, ‘that
you are starting what will no doubt become a veritable College.
You should christen it at once. St. Clare would be appropriate.
She founded an Order, and your College will be the foundation
of an order. I do hope the G. W. R. will alter its time-table to
suit your convenience. It would do so if it had as high an
opinion of your excellence as the Father of your College, and
your Pupils and all that know you have. Fancy, thirty-five years

since we first met! What a period for evolution.... I should like
very much to have a chat with you to see where you are now.’

After five years, St. Hilda’s, Oxford, was recognised by the Association for
the Education of Women in Oxford as St. Hilda’s Hall. Miss Beale finally, in
1900, connected it with St. Hilda’s, Cheltenham, by presenting it to the
Association of that College.
That Miss Beale was fully alive to changes that must come in the course of
time to such an institution as St. Hilda’s Hall, and could be content to see her
own personal wishes set aside in everything that did not affect the essential life
of the place, is clear from the following letter to Mrs. Wells in January 1903:—

‘Thanks for your nice letter and the suggestions. I think with
you that the giving of scholarships will have to be reconsidered,
and some clear rules made. I am, however, no less strongly
opposed to the modern slave trade than before, and should be
much grieved if we entered upon it. I see you would limit the
giving to those who need help. Of course I see that I can no
longer have the freedom I had in choosing scholars when the
house was mine, and I alone was responsible for all expenses,
and Mrs. Hay allowed me to dispose of her gifts, but I do hope
we shall go on somewhat the same lines.
‘1. That we shall not ask for money.
‘2. That we shall not advertise in order to get scholars.
‘3. That we shall not pledge ourselves to choose merely by
intellectual pre-eminence.
‘4. I think we are justified in giving the preference to
Cheltenham girls.
‘Might we not say that a scholarship should be offered on
certain fixed conditions to certain girls, say to associates and to
those who, not having been long enough to gain this, should
have taken a high rank in the Cambridge room.’

The year marked by this crown and result of labour was saddened by the
death of Miss Catherine Newman at Mayfield House. It was a death which
caused not only personal sorrow, but extreme perplexity and loss to all

connected with the Mission. They found themselves at the end of four years’
trial of their scheme without a head, with a scattered band of workers, and an
insanitary house. No one felt the sorrow of it all more than Miss Beale; no one
was more courageous in meeting it. The necessary, difficult, and toilsome work
which was the result of the crisis did not indeed fall to her share, but to that of
some members of the committee on whom the responsibility specially pressed.
But such difficulties to be met, such a death for a cause, were exactly what
roused Miss Beale to feel the worth of it as she had never done before.
A small untiring sub-committee was formed, with Mrs. Batten as secretary, to
re-arrange the work. The cost of efficient drainage operations was so heavy that
at first it seemed better to seek a new house for the Settlement than to undertake
such a great expense. A long search in the neighbourhood for such a house
proved fruitless. It therefore became a question whether the Guild members
should move their work from the place they had deliberately chosen at a large
general meeting, or go to the expense required for making Mayfield House fit
for habitation. However, an appeal to the surveyor resulted in the cost of the
drainage work being thrown upon the landlord, who consequently made harder
terms for his tenants. The question whether to stay or go came before the Guild
in 1894, and a vote for continuing the work at Mayfield House was passed by a
large majority. After an interval of some months the house was re-opened under
a new Lady Warden, Miss Corbett,—no Cheltenham worker having been found
to undertake it.
In her first report Miss Corbett was able to show a full complement of
workers. There was no falling off, but in less than two years it became evident
that a more complete change must be made. The Oxford workers, who by a
temporary arrangement lived at first in Mayfield House, had now a prosperous
Settlement of their own—St. Margaret’s—in the very same square as Mayfield
House. This Settlement of the Ladies’ Branch of the Oxford House could not
well be in any other neighbourhood. It was seen to be ludicrous that two large
communities of women workers should concentrate their energies on one small
corner of the vast field of London work. Added to this, the high rent and rates of
Mayfield House pointed to the need of a change, and at the Guild meeting of
1896 it was definitely proposed to move either to East Ham or Lambeth.
Finally, however, Shoreditch was chosen, a district having sore needs, and near
enough to Bethnal Green to enable those members of the Settlement engaged
there in Board School management, charity organisation, and other extra
parochial work still to carry it on.

Then came the question of a house. There was none. It was clearly necessary
to build, but for so large an undertaking the reserve fund was insufficient. Miss
Beale, always averse to begging for money, refused to make any definite appeal
for charity, but as a happy inspiration, the idea came to her that the Guild should
meet the difficulty with the same kind of means used by Mrs. Grey in starting
high schools in 1874. This idea took shape in February 1897. Miss Verrall, who
had been Treasurer of the Settlement from the beginning, sent out notices to
members of the Guild to inquire whether shares for £3000 would be taken up,
and a ready response was given, all the shares being quickly appropriated within
a fortnight. This, which seems to be a mere business transaction, was really a
great deal more. It was rather a channel for interest and help which had been so
far unable to force their way freely. The money was subscribed in the form of
debenture stock at three per cent., repayable at the end of eighty years. £3800
was subscribed within a fortnight by 310 subscribers. A large part came from
women to whom the sacrifice of control or recovery of the capital made it
practically a gift. To most the yearly-paid few shillings of interest meant little in
comparison with a few pounds available for immediate expenditure. Of the
money subscribed, over £400 has now been released by gift from the holders.
Other holders have authorised the Council of St. Hilda’s East to retain their
interest. This brings in about £30 a year. The transaction was a fine example of
Miss Beale’s use of this world’s goods, as means to great ends, and a fine
instance of the response she could command from those she had led to her own
point of view. Generous aid came also from Mr. Dutton, whose sister was an old
Cheltonian,[65] and who undertook all the legal business gratuitously; also from
the honorary architect, Mr. Philip Day, the husband of an old pupil, who
volunteered his services for the new house. The workers found temporary
quarters during the building, which took less than a year; and on April 26, 1898,
the house was opened by Dr. Creighton, the Bishop of London, under the name
of St. Hilda’s, Shoreditch. For Miss Beale remained faithful to the name and all
the ideas it implied for her. On the letter of a friend who wrote, ‘Could not the
new house be called Cheltenham House or some such, binding it to the College?
It would be better than a picturesque saint’—she wrote, ‘I disagree.’ Mrs.
Reynolds, an old pupil, became head of the Settlement during the busy time of
furnishing and organisation of work in a new centre. A year later she was
succeeded by another old pupil, Miss Bruce, the present Lady Warden, who had
worked in the Settlement from the first. Since that time the house has twice
been enlarged. The growth of the Settlement, as its beginning had been, was
marked by the loss through death of an enthusiastic worker when Mrs. Moyle,
who was for a time its secretary, died in July 1899.

As the permanence of the Settlement became assured, and the interest of both
past and present pupils increased, being augmented by the organisation of
shares, and by the formation of St. Hilda’s Association, Miss Beale’s own
interest in the work grew. She regarded St. Hilda’s East less as a centre of help
for the poor than as a place of training for workers. In this aspect it appealed to
her as rightly an integral part of the work of the College. In the year 1898,
which she said might be called for the College an annus mirabilis, she was able
to point to the three institutions bearing the name of St. Hilda, each firmly
established, flourishing, and full of promise of future usefulness.

‘This year St. Hilda’s, enlarged from six to sixty students, is
full and free from debt.
‘This year the link with the University of Oxford, so early
formed, has been made permanent by St. Hilda’s, Oxford,
becoming a Hall of the University.
‘Above all, this year St. Hilda’s East has been built by the
spontaneous co-operation of past and present girls, and this has
specially cheered us, that those who have left us for other
spheres, the Heads of other great Schools, still stretch out their
hands to us, work with us in the Guild and the Mission, and the
old ties are not broken.’

But the three great institutions bearing the name of St. Hilda by no means
included all that thought-training work which was what Miss Beale specially
associated with it.
The existence of St. Hilda’s College at Cheltenham made it convenient, if not
imperative, to find exercise for the energy there inspired and directed, and to
supply classes for practice. To keep this stream of energy within her own
guidance for a longer period than the time of training involved, it was necessary
to have scope for it at hand. Even the great and growing College was not large
enough to employ all the workers it trained, and the Principal was ever alive to
the necessity of having a certain number of teachers from outside, bringing with
them fresh ideas and methods.
The Kindergarten was the first addition to the Ladies’ College proper to need
such young helpers as Miss Beale now had at her disposal. It began, like Miss
Beale’s other creations, without a local habitation of its own in 1876. The
College, owing to the quick perception of its Lady Principal, who was sensitive

to each fresh tendency in education, was one of the first schools in England to
avail itself of the Kindergarten mistresses trained by Madame Michaelis, who
began her work in her own house at Croydon as early as 1874.
Miss Beale at once secured a mistress, and on her arrival a number of little
boys and girls were immediately found to constitute a Kindergarten in Miss
Beale’s own drawing-room. ‘The’ drawing-room, as she always called it, did
not well bear out its title. As a baby-class room it looked well. Morris’s daisy
and columbine paper, then a new thing, was on the walls, to suggest the thought,
which was probably correct, that in first choosing it Miss Beale had already an
intention of beginning a Kindergarten, though she did not find it advisable to
mention it then to the Council. Some of the younger teachers in College helped
a little with this baby-class. The system and organisation, the carefully trained
head, all seemed rather alarming in those days when Froebelian ideas and
German methods were little known in England.
As early as 1876 there were twenty-five children in the Kindergarten, for
which a classroom had to be found in the College. In 1881 Miss Welldon came
to Cheltenham as head of the Kindergarten. Hers was one of the first
appointments made by the Croydon Kindergarten Company, which had been
founded in 1876, with Madame Michaelis as Principal.
In 1882 the new room, purposely built and fitted for a Kindergarten, was
opened. It was much enlarged in 1887. But soon again more scope was needed
for the large number of students who now flocked to Cheltenham. Miss Beale
could not bear to let one of these escape her. She recognised their needs, she
saw their possible value. There were then very few places in England where
they could be trained; the demand for Kindergarten mistresses daily increased.
The immediate difficulty was met in 1889 by the establishment of a
Kindergarten school in connection with St. Stephen’s Church in Cheltenham,
supported by the vicar of the parish and a few voluntary contributors. This was
staffed by Kindergarten students of the Ladies’ College. Fifty-seven children
actually appeared in the school the first day, and the numbers rapidly increased
in spite of the fact that each child paid twopence weekly. Five years later
College students penetrated into a still poorer school at Naunton, a hamlet
adjoining the town of Cheltenham. In 1896 the infant school of the parish of
Holy Trinity in the town invited teachers from the College.
In 1889 Cambray House was offered for sale. Miss Beale, who had a strong
lingering affection for this first home of her school, had with regret seen it
‘alienated to barbarian boys,’ the trees cut down, and the garden turned into an

asphalted playground. The building was well fitted for the school purposes for
which it had been adapted and long used. There was enough space in the part
which had not been altered, and which was not wanted for a day-school, to be
utilised as a boarding-house. Miss Beale seized the chance she saw of opening a
school which should serve the double purpose of taking overflow pupils or
others for whom, for many reasons, the Ladies’ College was not suited, and of
affording an opening under her own eye for some of the teachers she was
training. The rules for admission, discipline, etc., were identical with those of
the College. By this time, too, she saw the use of the racquet-courts and tennis-
grounds. It was a great satisfaction to get back this house. She wrote of it to
Miss Arnold:—

‘I dare not take any extra fatigue, as I have so much on my
hands—I must try to be alone for a while. I have just bought
back the old Cambray House in which I began thirty-one years
ago. I want a second Miss Wilderspin, I have got to put it in
order and furnish by May.... I heard Canon Body at All Saints,
Margaret Street, last Friday. It was a very good sermon, and
seemed to fit in well with the thoughts that came to me, as I had
just got my offer for Cambray accepted, rather to my surprise.’

In 1895 Cambray was enlarged at a cost of about £2000, and in October 1897
Miss Beale, by deed of gift, made over the property to the Ladies’ College,
though it was arranged that she should still continue there the school and
boarding-house. Miss Beale marked this return of Cambray House, ‘enlarged
and alive again with girls,’ into the possession of the College, as another notable
event of the annus mirabilis.
Cambray House, on its acquisition by the College through the gift of Miss
Beale, was leased to her for a nominal rent; the school and boarding-house
being carried on as a private venture until 1906, when their existence was
recognised in the College prospectus for the first time. Miss Beale spent another
£2000 out of her own income upon additions and improvements after she had
made over the house to the College. This was a large sum, but even from a
financial point of view by no means wasted. In five years the profits of school
and boarding-house amounted to £1000, for which Miss Beale planned further
fruitful use.
Cambray School, or, to give it its true title, Cheltenham Ladies’ College
School, and Cambray boarding-house, which took pupils belonging to both the

new school and the College, was not the only undertaking for which Miss Beale
made herself personally responsible. She also started, and placed in a good
financial position, two cheap boarding-houses, St. Helen’s and St. Austin’s, and
in course of time presented them to the College. Her position in regard to all
these institutions was surely very unusual, not to say unique. The foundation of
a school of over one hundred pupils, and of houses containing the same number
of boarders, would be a respectable life’s work for many a woman. This work
appears to have been only one of the many occupations Miss Beale found for
the little leisure left her by the cares of the great College and its ever-
multiplying interests.
It was perhaps primarily interest in young teachers which led Miss Beale to
join a movement made in 1897 to induce ladies to take up work in elementary
schools. Miss Beale was present at a large meeting held that year in
Westminster Town Hall, when the need and importance of this work were set
forth in speeches by the Bishop of Stepney,[66] Sir Joshua Fitch, and others. As a
result a Government Training Department was at once formed at the Ladies’
College, and work began with seven students, who in the same year were
encouraged by addresses from Sir H. E. Oakeley, H.M.I., and Sir Joshua Fitch.
The field of practice for these students was found in All Saints’ Schools, where
there were four departments all supplied with the best apparatus. Other schools
in the town were also glad at different times to receive these teachers. Miss
Beale became much interested in the work, and proposed to build a practising
school of her own for the elementary department of the College, engaged a
head-mistress, and bought land for building. Then in 1901 came the regulations
for local education committees, which would have put Miss Beale’s school
under local control. She therefore gave up the idea of building and sold her
land. Later regulations made her find it impossible to continue the elementary
work on the lines she wished. The Government demands proved a fetter to one
who felt she should be free to work towards her ideal. To her mind the real
progress of elementary education in the country depended, not on the
‘introduction of new subjects of instruction, which must impose new and
burdensome labour on teachers and children. It should be gained by the better
training of teachers, by the adoption of better methods, by a wiser economy of
time, and by showing teachers how to put more knowledge, more skill, more
thought, more love, and more enthusiasm into their work.’ The legislation of
1901 made her feel that ‘My Lords’ did not recognise these principles as all-
important; that they undervalued such an effort as she was making at
Cheltenham; that they were unjust to voluntary schools. She felt as if she were
playing an unfair game, and declined any longer to help forward a movement of

which she could not see the goal. It may be marked also that she could never
feel full sympathy for free education. From this time she again limited herself to
training secondary teachers. Conditions which made elementary training the one
serious work which Miss Beale took up only to abandon it, are indeed to be
regretted. The magnificent plant, the fine opportunities for learning and
practising, such as the Ladies’ College could supply, above all the large-minded
teaching, the sense of real education which the Lady Principal would give, were
thus lost to a cause which affects the wellbeing of the whole nation.
The Secondary Training Department became a recognised division of the
College in 1885. So high a value did Miss Beale put upon this that she wrote of
the work of the mistress in whose charge it was, as ‘only second in importance
to that of the Head.’
St. Hilda’s work, using the term which Miss Beale herself would have used,
meant much more than teaching definite subjects and preparing for
examinations: it meant inspiration and the leading out of minds. It demanded
unlimited devotion to a cause. It is probable that Miss Beale had for long
cherished, and had only gradually relinquished a hope, though she never formed
any definite plan, of seeing arise out of her work for education a body of
women willing to form a teaching order. Opposed to sisterhood schools as she
was, chiefly because her ideal of education was so high and apart, that she could
not bear to see it receive in any way a secondary place, she recognised the
immense value that some kind of rule would have, if voluntarily imposed for
the sake of education. In other words, while she did not like to see people taking
up teachers’ work because they were Sisters, she would have liked to see those
she inspired and trained voluntarily take upon themselves some of the
restrictions of a Sister’s life because they were teachers. The thought may have
come to her first when, in 1856 and 1858, Mrs. Lancaster pressed her to
undertake penitentiary work under rule. It was this which led to the severity of
her dress and grave demeanour at Casterton, this which was echoed in a half-
expressed wish that her staff at Cheltenham should wear black. When, after long
years of waiting, it became her part to train women for the work of education,
the aim of inducing them to adopt a separate devoted life, with or without
visible signs of it, was ever before her.
Now that St. Hilda’s work may be witnessed in the three great institutions
bearing this name, it is of no common interest to trace Miss Beale’s own plan
for its development. The plan itself and the noble ideal behind it are not more
remarkable than the ability with which she waited, resigned her individual

fancy, and became an agent rather than an author. The following extract (circa
1884) states her first design:—

‘It is thought that a protest in act is specially needed in these
days, now that teachers are so highly paid, and that an
association of teachers who should be ready to take up any
work required, whether it was paid or not, would be able to
carry on work more effectively and continuously than an
unorganised body of women.
‘It is proposed, therefore, that after three years,—ten of those
who agree in this general principle should unite together as
members of the Society of St. Hilda,—that they should pay, if
young, into the funds of the Society whatever they earn from
that time (but keeping complete control over any invested
property), the Society providing them a fixed salary, a home
when disengaged or out of health, but holding a right to send
them out to any work which seems needed. The community
may, if two-thirds agree, reject any member on returning to her
what she has paid in, minus a fair sum for her maintenance. A
member may withdraw with half any calculated surplus of
earnings over expenditure, on giving one year’s notice. Some
members might reside permanently and assist in various ways
as writers and editors.
‘It is proposed that the members contributing the money
should form the governing body,—elect a Superior,—that the
votes should be in proportion to the money contributed. That all
the money should, after paying maintenance, be expended, after
leaving a moderate reserve fund, on providing some charitable
work, and that the members should, at the will of the Superior,
be assigned to any post she may think fit.
‘The work should be primarily teaching or assisting in some
way in educational work amongst rich or poor, specially
religious teaching, to which, it is hoped, some members will
chiefly devote themselves, e.g. by lectures, by corresponding
with those who need advice or help in religious matters,
opening the house to receive as visitors any who need a time of
quiet and retreat doing mission work at home and abroad. There