‘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[61] 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[62] 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[63] 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[64] (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[65] 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[66] 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.’
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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[68] 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[69] 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[70] 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[71] 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[72] 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:[73] ‘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[74] 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[75] 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[76] 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[77] 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.
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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[79] 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.
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‘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.’