‘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[109] 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 ?sthetic 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[110] 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[111] 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:—
[112]
‘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[113] 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[114] 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.[115] 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[116] 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[117] 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[118] 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[119] 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[120] 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[121] 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[122] 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[123] 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[124] 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[125] 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[126] 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[127] 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[128] 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[129] 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[130] 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[131] 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[132] 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[133] 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.