‘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[37] 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[38] 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[39] 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[40] 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[41] 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[42] 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.’
[43]
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[44] 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[45] 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[46] 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[47] 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[48] 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[49] 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[50] 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;[51] 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[52] 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[53] 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 qua 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[54] 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[55] 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[56] 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[57] 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[58] 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?”[59] 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.’