‘The living record of your memory.’ Shakspere, Sonnet lv.
Miss Beale enjoyed both receiving and writing letters. She kept a very large number, especially of those from old pupils. A letter which told of help or inspiration gained through the life at College would be put away, labelled in her own peculiar and favourite abbreviated way: ‘Sent 2 chēr me.’ She was a very ready and at times a very voluminous correspondent. She attended to all her letters herself, and answered all to which she intended to reply, not merely by return of post, but often the moment she received them. If her answer was of some importance she would keep it by her for a time, and often rewrite it before finally sending it. Her papers include a very large number of drafts and copies of letters which she sent. The chief part of her correspondence was done before the school hours began each morning, and she generally came to her place at 9 a.m. with her morning letters already answered. Where she found she could help by means of letters she would spare no pains nor time over them.
Perhaps Mrs. Charles Robinson received more than any one else. In 1878 Mrs. Robinson, then Miss Arnold, left Cheltenham to become a teacher at the Dulwich High School. She was at that time in a state[372] of great religious perplexity; dissatisfied with the teaching of the Plymouth Brethren, among whom she had been brought up, unable to accept that of the Church, she would not attend the services of either. During this time of gloom Miss Beale wrote every week to Miss Arnold a letter she might receive on Sunday morning, and all her life remained a constant correspondent. It is fitting that this chapter of letters should begin with some of those written to the ‘best-beloved child.’[104]
To Miss Arnold:—
‘July 1880.
‘It seems to me you have failed in trying to keep the first commandment, and so of course in the others. “Thou shalt worship the Lord Thy God and Him only shalt Thou serve.” You see it is not when we feel inclined; when we can realise His presence, when we have plenty of spare time.
‘Then in your life and work has it not been that you have thought more of pleasing others, of doing work, of being so laborious, so useful, etc. etc., instead of serving Him, too much of being well thought of yourself. This often leads to greed of work: we do not say: “Lord, what wouldst Thou have me to do?” but, “I want to do this or that.”
‘Then as regards your public worship. Do not you think, if you told your father that you felt Church services more helpful, he would be less grieved that you should go to Church than go in deadness. He chose the Brethren because he felt his religious life quickened with them; would he not wish you to act in the same spirit? Could you not frankly talk it over with him?’
In 1881 Miss Beale wrote to urge Miss Arnold to attend some addresses Mr. Wilkinson was about to give:—
‘You will make some effort and some sacrifices, if necessary, to come, will you not, my dear child? Even the love of Miss —— for which you should give thanks, is a danger too,[373] lest you should learn to look at yourself with the indulgence that we give to those we love, and do not see clearly the faults and failings. Mr. Wilkinson does help to show how much ground there is for humility.’
To the same:—
‘1882.
‘Your letter grieves me very much, just as the painful illness of one I love would; because you have to go through it; but it is right, if you go through it rightly, seeking the truth. Only one cannot in a letter, nor in a little while, nor off-hand deal with these difficulties. As in every science, thought, and earnest labour, and aspiration, and desire are necessary if we would find truth; so in religion, the knowledge of absolute wisdom and goodness, which transcends all we can know, there must be a deep devotion to truth, which spares no pains in the search.
‘Will you begin with a simple and clear book first,—I noticed it in the last Magazine,—by Godet. It is translated by Canon Lyttelton. I think it shows conclusively the fact of our Lord’s resurrection, and with that goes the testimony of miracles, not as wonders but as signs. When you have got thus far, you will find, I trust, the repulsion to the supernatural element diminished, if it exists in you. Don’t ever let yourself say, “We can’t know.” We can know enough to believe and trust in God’s goodness, and one must go on seeking by prayer, thought, obedience, very, very patiently, and then through eternity one will draw nearer and nearer.
‘As regards your conception of inspiration, I think it requires correction; claims have been made for the Bible which it never made for itself. Holy men spake as they were moved by the Holy Spirit; but the literal dictation of every word we are not taught.
‘But I cannot attempt to answer piecemeal. I have gone through all these questionings, but I think my faith strengthens from year to year,—if I dare say so. So that it seems to me marvellous that any one can fail to feel the divine, underlying all the superficial, the phenomenal which men verily call realities. Do you remember how Browning makes Lazarus feel “marvel that they too see not with his opened eyes!” That objection to the Israelites destroying the Canaanites seems to me so frightfully superficial. Are there not evils far worse than death? Would it not be enormously preferable to die than to live as many do? What should we say if we could see[374] beyond the grave? We judge knowing only one side of the grave. And if God saw well that these people should die at once, would it not be part perhaps of the education of a nation chosen to do a particular work, that God should make them burn with indignation against the detestable, unspeakable, moral evils, and make them the executioners of His justice? It would not degrade them to do this, if they did it as a judge condemns the guilty, with no personal hatred. We cannot sit in judgment thus. In the world’s history we see God ever employing men to do the work He has to do. There may be necessities for this, of which we know nothing; I mean in the nature of things: certainly there is good as regards the moral training of men.
‘Go on wishing and praying and seeking all your life, never saying anything which you do not believe, and then the God of truth will hear you as you say, “Open Thou mine eyes, that I may see the wondrous things of Thy law.” “Lighten our darkness, we beseech Thee!” Feeling must come in, as the Brethren rightly say. We must love, and desire, and know Him to be our Father; we must trust Him. We can’t understand even an earthly friend without trust, but we must use the powers He has given us, we dare not bury them. We shall have to wait for the solution of much hereafter; but we shall grow in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour.
‘My poor child, would I could help you more, but God will help you. “Though He tarry, wait.” Use the means natural and supernatural. Tell me from time to time how you are getting on, and I will try to put you on a course of reading.’
To the same:—
‘1882.
‘My poor child, I do indeed feel for you in your loneliness, but remember him whose eyes were opened spiritually and he was therefore cast out of the synagogue,—but Jesus found him. Do not fear that because the disciples call down fire that the Lord will [send it]. “Come unto Me all that are heavy-laden,” He says to us now as then. To those who are “without guile,” i.e. sincerely seeking truth, He still promises that they shall see greater things than they have ever done.... No; we cannot and we would not believe that He who is infinitely wiser than man can be less good. He is not a Pharaoh to bid us make bricks without straw. He does not tell us to do what we cannot and then punish us for not doing it. “She hath done[375] what she could” was the sentence of the Lord when others found fault. God is love, and if we pity and long to draw to our hands any suffering child of earth, must not He? If we pity those who suffer in a less degree, must not He those who are suffering the sorrow greatest of all, the loss in any degree of His presence, of that faith which makes all things possible? Go on, my poor child, looking up to Him, and trusting in His utter love who will not leave us, not when we cry, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord.” It is hard sometimes to believe we are not wrong, when we see the disciples, those who really want to do right, acting so differently from the way in which He acted. But we know that in all ages some of the most unchristian things have been done by those who thought they were doing God’s will.
‘I do not think from what you tell me that you can go on at the Meeting. If your father wishes it you might for a while abstain from going to church; but if so, let the time you would have spent in public worship be passed in private prayer and studying; just looking up with childlike spirit to the Father, feeling His presence, His love.
‘I do not think you should, however, absent yourself long from communion with some body of believers. All Scripture and our spiritual experience is against this. If you decide for St. Peter’s, I think I can tell you of a friend’s house where you would be welcome most Sundays; and we must have you among us for the Quiet Days at Christmas.
‘You know I do not want to proselytise; if with the Brethren you had found spiritual nourishment, I would have had you rest there; but now you are starving it is different, like that poor dove who found no rest for the sole of her feet, you need to be taken into an ark.
‘I do not want you to be dependent on man, but it is the order of God’s providence that He sends disciples to lead others to Him, and so we are to help one another. And you have a period of trouble before you, outward and inward, until you are able to stand upon the rock once more. Trust God if you should have to walk through that dark valley where you cannot see Him. Each trial will one day result in joy,—the joy of being able to help other troubled souls especially. He descended into Hades, He rose again! I shall remember you in prayer, and I shall ask prayers for you at St. Peter’s, of course without their knowing the least who you are, but that you are suffering and in darkness. Be patient and I think your father’s heart will come back.’
[376]
To the same:—
‘1882.
‘Now, my dear child, do not fret about this trial. Just try to look up and wait. I believe your father’s heart will come back. You see he has obeyed his opinions before, and truth is like the sun which ever rises higher upon our earthly day, and does not sink as the natural sun. We need sometimes to remember the words, “Call no man your father upon earth.” I mean that there is the all-embracing Fatherhood, in which we see all earthly relations: we do not, must not, cast those off, but they must be swallowed up in the greater. Write to me whenever you feel it would comfort you, I will try to help you, until you feel again that you need not outward help.... One feels more and more how slowly one learns and how infinite is God’s truth; how one need’s patience and deep humility, and utter faith in Him who is the Light.’
To the same:—
‘January 1883.
‘My poor child, you must not grieve thus. Since God loves your father, He is giving to him only that discipline, whatever it be that is necessary. Yes, believe this, even though the suffering has come through you, for we must believe it universally. I do not say you will not suffer for it, or that there may not have been some wrong in it on your part. But if, as you know, he does wish you to know and serve God more perfectly, then through this God is leading him on to know and serve Him better, and you must trust God to know what He is about. You must go on for your own sake (and for the sake of the children God has given you), seeking for light.’
To the same:—
‘January 1883.
‘I always feel as if I must write by return. Your letters draw out my heart to you so. I am glad you went and felt the love shining in on you.
‘Now, as regards the a priori argument; it is just the fundamental thing. Did you read my Browning paper? See, it is just the thought that comes out in “Saul.” We, if we love ourselves, we must believe in God’s love. He must be better if He is greater in every other way; it cannot be that we excel Him in the power of love, which is the highest gift of all. We[377] can’t think that He does not care for His children, that He has left them orphans.
‘I think one can see too that He in whom dwelt the Divine Spirit without measure, yet who was truly man, and who therefore grew as man in insight as we do, felt that utter faith grow, tower up, as that intense love, that utter self-devotion which He felt within, told Him of His oneness with God; as He prayed that we might be one, even as He was one with the Father.
‘And He, trusting the Father, knew He could not be deceived by that Father; and we knowing Him, know He could not deceive us.... So I come a priori to belief in the story of that Life, and when I get to it by inward reasons, I am able first to look at the outward [reasons], which to many are enough without the inward, but are not to me. It was in this way too Kant got back to belief in Christianity. I read it was the moral law within which taught him, and all St. John’s teaching seems to me to be that we must feel the Spirit within ere we can recognise the Christ without. But then He does give freely of His Spirit,—if we seek, we shall find. He knocks at the door of man’s heart, “If any one will hear He will come in.”
‘My child, do remember those comforting words, “If ye were blind ye should have no sin, but now ye say, we see; therefore your sin remaineth.” So blindness is no sin in itself, if is lazy, conceited ignorance that is sin.
‘I wish you could be in the House of Rest from Friday to Monday, and have all Saturday of the Quiet Days. I wish you could have one talk with Mr. Wilkinson before he leaves.’
To the same:—
‘January 1883.
‘It does seem to me such a strange idea that our service should be acceptable to God in proportion to its difficulty. It is really at bottom the same thing that makes people torture themselves. It lies at the root of that idea regarding the Sabbath, which our Lord condemned so strongly. He came to make us know better the Father’s heart. Surely He loves to make it easy to His children to draw near. “I will allure her into the wilderness and will speak comfortably unto her.” Under the old dispensation He appointed a solemn ritual, and why did St. Paul exhort us to use psalms and hymns but that by the joy of music our hearts may be loosened from their deadness, and then we can trust them whither we will. It[378] seems to me of course that our service is much more in conformity with the apostolic model handed down, and with allusions in the Bible. But I do not want to dispute about that. God has left us free. If your father says, “I wish you to go to the meeting,” you should, supposing you think it not wrong, obey. But I don’t believe he would, if you told him you went merely in obedience to his wishes; that you felt it did not help your spiritual life.
‘If it is finally decided that you go to St. Peter’s, I should like to ask Mr. Wilkinson to see you, and I would tell him some of your difficulties; he is so wise.
‘I have been thinking much these holidays about the many who like yourself are full of difficulties and questions. One thing some of us are going to do, and I want you to join: make each week special prayers for the teachers in Colleges and High Schools,—(you will specially remember me), and ask that some means may be found of helping them....
‘Need you dwell upon that question of eternal death? Could you not say, “Father, I see not yet what Thou doest, but I trust Thee?” If the death of any of His creatures whom He loves is inevitable, then it does not make us believe Him unloving, we know how He yearns to serve us.’
To the same:—
‘March 1883.
‘I do not mean either to say that the carelessness of a time in which you did see and were able to realise divine things was nothing to do with the present trial. Who can judge another? I begged him not to be unhappy if your religious life took another form....
‘Yes, I was so glad to see your father. I feel I know him much better, and perhaps he knows me better.
‘I quite understand his strong language about the Church, only those evils are not inherent in it, but in our sinful nature, and similar ones appear even among the Brethren. The unreality does not depend upon the amount of ritual....’
To the same:—
‘April 1883.
‘I have very much enjoyed Professor Edward Caird’s Hegel. It is 3s. 6d., published by Blackwood. I am not quite sure it would help you, but think it would. I want you to get deeper, and to be very patient until God shows you more light.[379] He is showing it to you, only until you and I are able to see more clearly He must wait. You have not suffered so much for nothing, but I trust you may one day help others. If you get Westcott on the Resurrection, read the end first on Positivism, there is much in it that is so Christian, and much in what is called Christianity which St. Paul would have called carnal. All that about the Lord’s glorified Body in St. John and St. Paul speak to us of a spirit glorified and no longer bound in any space, but a life-giving power, real, substantial....
‘Poor George Eliot. She had a passionate nature, and she came into circumstances so sad. Her life is a great sorrow to those who feel that her teaching was in some way noble, though in others it was really weakening. He who knows all will judge her: “Whose mercy endureth for ever.” She was a long way above Lewes. If you come across Hutton’s Essays you ought to read them. I always get a good bit of reading in the holidays that demands thought....’
To the same:—
‘May 1883.
‘I am glad you find the work comforting again, and that God has sent you help through some one else. Don’t fret and look forward to next holidays, you don’t know yet how full of blessing they may be. Just remember it is a command, “Be not anxious for to-morrow,” and so we can obey. I remember once that thought that I must stay seemed the only thing to save me from breaking down, and so failing to do as I ought the work God had given me. See that it is a sin to fret and be anxious about your father’s health, or your future relations to home, or anything. We have to do our best, and then trust to Him “who ordereth all things according to the counsel of His Will.”
‘Then as regards past sins. It seems to me that it enervates you to dwell upon them as you are doing. I may be wrong, but it seems to me that the sense of guiltiness in the past makes you afraid of God, as you ought not to be. If a child were ever so naughty to you, did ever so many wrong things to you, would it shut her out from your love? You know it would not; you would sorrow over her, and seek to do her good. Only her continuing naughty, continuing to hate and distrust you, could prevent your doing her good. “Ye are not straitened in God, but in your own heart.” “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us.” We can’t think of Him not forgiving us, without thinking of Him as less[380] good than He is, and He is infinitely good. Of course this does not mean that He will not give us due discipline for our past failures, in order that we may be healed of the sins which caused them; but then we are glad of this, it is only a sign of His love for us.
‘We should confess to Him because He is judge, i.e. He separates and enables us to discern, distinguish the good from the evil in us, and separate. One whom I have often quoted to you said, “I forbid you to look at your sins except at the foot of the Cross.” Do you do this sometimes? The consciousness of guilt would be hardening without the consciousness of the abounding love. This purifies. I wonder if I have met your thought....’
To the same:—
‘May 1883.
‘You say you don’t know what to pray for. I think, perhaps, you are praying too exclusively for yourself. Ask for God’s grace, and power to respond. Intercede much for your children, your relations, your father, teachers and friends, and any one whom God gives you the means of helping. Especially at Holy Communion pray for the Church and all who are separated by darkness from one another, and put yourself quietly in God’s Hands. Some of our collects help me; one Mr. Wilkinson was so fond of: “Who knowest our necessities before we ask,” etc. etc.: do you know it? I think of Him then as coming to us all in Holy Communion, and from His own Hands giving us the pledges of His love, to make us know He is giving us His own glorified Life; the Life of God in such a way that we can receive it,—emptying Himself in Christ of that glory which we can’t know: the Absolute Being, the Infinite we cannot conceive. We must trust His word ... and this faith makes us strong, saves us from sickness, delivers us from the power of sin; yes, though we fall again and again, enables us to arise.
‘I so want you not to have that crushing fear, which, I may be wrong, but I think, you sometimes feel of God. He must be so sorry, if we don’t understand Him and feel like that.... “I fell at His feet as dead, and He laid His hand on me, saying, Fear not.” Think of this and of the parting words, “Peace be unto you.”’
To the same:—
‘July 1883.
‘ ... You will have heard of our great loss, and yet I ought[381] not to call it so,—in dear Mrs. Owen. It is good to have known her, and one feels what it is to live and work in the hearts of others, seeing such a life and death. I will tell you more of what she has taught [me] when you come.’
To the same:—
‘July 1883.
‘My dear child, I will certainly ask for both of you to come. Yes, it is a naughty letter. You must love not only with pity, but with a stretching forth to sympathise. What if we feel ourselves better than another, because the Spirit has stirred the once cold depths of our soul, and so there is some light. Is it not because there has been so little that souls near us have remained cold? Can we ever glance at their faults without shame in thinking we are responsible for so much? How we shall long to make them some amends, how gladly we shall bear any punishment, or even harshness, if we can through this show our yearning love, alleviate our self-reproval! We cannot feel we are better. Our Church service does at least try to keep us humble by our repeated confessions, especially at Holy Communion.’
To the same:—
‘So very glad you have had a happy time. God is good in giving us playgrounds as well as workrooms; we want both, and in both He shines on us, and is glad in our gladness as well as afflicted in our afflictions....’
To the same:—
‘October 1885.
‘I object to your sentence, that you would rather your father thought what was not true, than that he should think what is certainly the truth, viz. that he has been in some way to blame. Also to that “I cannot bear this sorrow to fall on him.” We have simply to do the right, and believe that God knows what He is about, when He lets pain come upon us for our mistakes; pains us, yes, “shatters us,” that we may know the truth better. How many a parent or teacher tries to spare a child pain, and wrongly. You will not, of course, willingly pain any, much less the father whom you love so much, but you have both of you simply to speak the truth and do what conscience bids you.... Say frankly and firmly what you feel you must do, and then drop the subject.... You remind me of those good Christians who[382] beg us not to hang a man, “lest he should fall into the hands of God.” God can care for people whether alive or dead, but I believe your father would really suffer less, and be worried less, by a simple straightforward course of conduct. You are thinking of self too much, thinking yourself of too much importance when you say, “I am only thinking of the sorrow that threatens him and how I can bear it.” Perhaps God is leading him to truer views of the Father.’
The following letter, written in August 1888, refers to Miss Arnold’s appointment as Head-mistress of the Truro High School:—
To the same:—
‘August 1888.
‘Do not trouble yourself about whatever you ought to have done now. It is done, and you thought it right, so it was right. I think of your Bishop saying in his quiet way, “I do the best I can, and then I just leave it.” I dare say the Lakes will refresh you. It is “heart-rending,” I doubt not. I wept all the day that I left Queen’s, but it was well. We are having a delightful time....
‘Now I must stop my 15th letter. I had to get up at 5 a.m., the days are so full.’
To the same:—
‘September 1888.
‘I think you are beginning to-day, at least you are a good deal in my thoughts, and you will want a lot of wisdom. It is a comfort to remember, “If any man lack wisdom let him ask of God, who giveth to all men liberally.” I am so glad you have Miss ——. It is a great thing to have a few who work for love only....
‘Don’t be hasty in making changes, and don’t take to caps!’
To the same:—
‘Be sure the rooms will brighten when you have prayed some sunshine into them. It is terrible to have such a lot of servants!
‘Miss Buss gets her girls to help adorn.
‘I am glad we open on St. Matthew’s Day.’
To the same:—
‘August 1888.
‘Miss H. and Miss E. wanted me to advise your going out socially a little. I said I thought there were as yet difficulties, as a Head-mistress cannot choose; that I thought for the first[383] term it might be best to abstain; then you can look round you and judge better. They did not think there were many who would ask you, that those who would were nice, and it would be better for you not to be quite shut up. What do you think of saying you will go out not more than once a week? You have had so active a life; and intercourse with other people, and varied interests are good for school teachers. Also they think for the school it is good. I merely tell you this, I said I could not judge for you.
‘I hope you will not be led by anything I said to speak, if you do not think it is quite best, or indeed to do anything. I cannot judge, and if I could, the responsibility is yours, and I should grieve if I misled you.
‘I am so glad you feel refreshed. It is our general meeting; I shall be glad when it is over.
‘All best wishes, dear child, for you and yours, the children whom God has given you.’
To the same:—
‘October 1888.
‘“Be wise as serpents, and harmless as doves.” I should not answer people who lay snares, we have a good example of this to guide us.
‘It is so absurd of people to expect one to make up one’s mind on all subjects. We can no more judge of many questions of foreign or domestic policy than we can about the steering of a ship. But we can of questions of morality and cruelty.
‘Mrs. Grey’s new book, Last Words to Girls, is so grand. I hope it will be useful.’
To the same:—
‘October 1888.
‘We must put things in the ideal way. Religiosity is the death of religion, the grave-clothes which keep the living soul bound in the sepulchre; which you have to help to loosen that it may come forth at Christ’s word.
‘No, I don’t know the Bishop at all personally. I think if he will let you consult him, you will find his judgment a great help, but after all the responsibility rests on you, you can’t put it on any one.’
To the same:—
‘July 1889.
‘We have, I should think, quite full numbers now. I have[384] not got the lists, but we have at least seventy new pupils; it is strange.
‘I am better, have managed to be in College every day, by means of spending the end in bed. I hope I shall pick up, for work is a tonic.’
To the same:—
‘February 1889.
‘I am so thankful God gives me any words to help you, my dear child. I think, however, it was that passage I sent you from Canon Body’s notes, was it not, that really helped you, not what I said myself?’
To the same:—
‘January 1890.
‘It was nice to see you. Be sure that nothing would be worse for you than to have no worries, to have all speak well of you. Besides the more you need wisdom the more you will ask and seek it, and the more it will come for your needs.
‘And it is only by patience under our trials that you can bear witness to her and others of the spirit that is in you.’
To the same:—
‘August 1890.
‘I shall not, I expect, see you. I do not go to Oxford till Saturday, and leave on Monday. I hope you will not be made ill at Ammergau; I mean to keep as quiet as I can. I have already begun a good read; all Lotze’s book on Religion, The Children of Gibeon, part of Stanley, a good deal of Green’s philosophical works, and Lux Mundi, and endless magazines.’
To the same:—
‘August 1890.
‘Thanks for your very interesting letter. I think I should have felt as you did. I once went to something of the kind in Switzerland, and liked some of the early scenes, but after the Agony in the Garden I felt I could see no more, and came out....
‘I have had such cheering letters lately. One from a girl whom I thought the most tiresome I ever knew, about thirty-four years ago. She has been writing and saying how sorry she is, and wants to send her niece to be under me: “after many days thou shalt find it.”’
[385]
To the same:—
‘November 1890.
‘All good wishes for “more life and fuller.” Don’t trouble about not feeling. Remember the Lord’s words to those unfeeling disciples who went to sleep during His agony: “The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.” There is winter as well as spring or summer in our spiritual life. “Die Blume verblüht, die Frucht muss treiben.” You complain of the outward excitement of others, yet you want inward excitement. See how in the Imitatio one finds the same sort of feeling. I foresaw some reaction; there have been times during the last few years, during which you have been overstrained, and now you want a period of hybernation, I believe. You will, of course, go on doing just the same, as if you felt and saw, and you will believe in the Presence, and do your best.’
To the same:—
‘June 1891.
‘Don’t fret about what “they say,” not even listen, except to learn. I dare say they are right, and have sides of truth that we have not. In Tara there are beggars who go about saying: “What God gives, I will take”; each of us can only do that.
‘I am glad you have got advice; you have been too careless with this marvellous body, so complicated and needing to be well-treated. You have driven it on, like some poor ass, with sticks! Now you must be a little kind to it or it will stand still and kick.’
To the same:—
‘February 1892.
‘Your Bishop came last Wednesday, and I spoke to him for the first time in my life, after having known him for so many years. He seemed so bright, and I hope the removal of the load of responsibility will restore him, and he will be able to take up some less heavy work. He cannot but do good where-ever he is: it is wonderful what a spiritual power he is felt to be. He did just manage to see us before we broke up, but only in a hurried way; then he lunched with me, and when all were gone he gave me his blessing, which made me feel worse and better. Do you understand?
‘I am so glad you are feeling cheered about the school. Don’t you think it is right to be content with prosperity as well as with adversity?...
[386]
‘Yes, I read The Wages of Sin when it was coming out, a thing I seldom do, but I was much struck with its power. The author is a daughter of Kingsley. I don’t feel inclined to read Mrs. Ward’s new book.’
To the same:—
‘June 1892.
‘ ... I am enjoying my work. I was on the top of Battledown before 7 a.m. to-day. It is the best time for a walk....’
To the same:—
‘July 1892.
‘Our new building is to begin, and I am miserable at having to turn out of my house, which is to be pulled down.’
To the same:—
‘August 1892.
‘I think this state is partly reaction; do not bustle about it, but take rest. The excitement of last year is, I fancy, likely to lead to this; our spiritual faculties need rest after overfatigue, so seek repose, “O rest in the Lord.” Read, too, some lighter literature. Farrer’s story of Nero’s time I should like you to read. It shows what Christianity has done. I had a restful time at our Sanatorium after I had got out of my house, and now I have had a very pleasant week with my sisters at Woodchester. I really think it would be good for you one day to make your headquarters at Leckhampton. The country is so lovely, the air bracing, and there are all sorts of nice excursions by train and omnibus, to most lovely places, and there is such variety....
‘Be not anxious. Let me recommend you, as a diversion, to learn shorthand. I find it very good. Script phonography, it is an easy system, you could teach yourself. I am taking lessons; it is much liked.’
To the same:—
‘January 1893.
‘ ... We began to-day. I dare say I shall feel better when we are once more immersed. We are about the same in numbers, but there is a great deal of illness about, and we are half thinking of having a whooping-cough class, under a separate teacher, for Division III.’
To the same:—
‘June 1893.
‘I have had a great pleasure lately. Mrs. Russell Gurney[387] has been spending six weeks here. You must get her Dante’s Pilgrim’s Progress, just brought out, you will enjoy it; I have given a copy to Mrs. Rix. Mr. Alfred Gurney came to stay with her, and he has sent me his Parsifal, a little book of about eighty pages; it is beautiful too.
‘I should like you to read (in part) Mrs. Booth’s Life. It is very interesting, and I am quite surprised at the clearness and truth of her teaching. She seems never to have joined a party, but always looked for truth, and hates the God of Calvin and the doctrine “of assurance,” and the idea that Christ could be good for us and we need not be good. Her utter devotion is beautiful. I have not finished it, and I can’t see how the work was carried on after the person “was saved.”’
To the same:—
‘August 1894.
‘I am so glad you are feeling somewhat refreshed. You really must forget “the things that are behind”—the bad things as well as the good, or the heart “would fail in looking back.” And if no other way opens, and you are both called to go back to Truro, you will be able. “I can do all things,” and the sorrows for both of you will be like the mist which, though it came up from the face of the ground, yet watered Paradise and made it fruitful. Does not all consciousness of sin and failure bring us nearer not only to Him in Whom alone is strength, but to our brothers and sisters in sympathy and compassion. We are touched with the feeling of their infirmities.
‘So, my dear child (I feel inclined to say children, for this has made me feel nearer to your friend), “lift up the hands that hang down and the feeble knees, lest that which is weak be turned out of the way, but let it rather be healed” by your sorrows—your wounds too.
‘I have had a very pleasant but exhausting time since we met. I spent a fortnight at Oxford, attending both Oxford Extension and British Association. We heard a good deal about social and economic problems. Mr. Sydney Webb and Dr. Rein of Jena, who trains men as teachers, gave some nice lectures. Miss Louch is come back, having had a delightful time at the Educational Congress at the Clarke University, under the Presidency of Dr. Stanley Hall. She says she has learned a great deal.... I think our Training Department has as many if not more than any College there is, in spite of not having received any of the thousands that have been given to them—or, shall I say, because of it? I am sure it is good to[388] have to pay one’s way. I believe our Universities would do better work if they had nothing. “Then welcome each rebuff.”
‘We had many parties at St. Hilda’s, and everybody admired the house. The girls enjoy the boat very much; I hope there will be no accidents. It is a very safe one, but one is always nervous about the water....
‘I am pleased with the Higher Cambridge List ... and I am glad that we manage to keep up our lists, because we do not buy up our neighbours’ girls, and try not to make examinations the end. Glad your girl has done so well.
‘I am working hard at the Magazine and my Reports to the Council, and trying to rest a little after my Oxford labours. On Tuesday I hope to go to the hills near Stroud.
‘I must lend you some day Streets and Lanes, by the late Miss Benson. The Archbishop has sent me a copy.
‘May God bless and comfort your hearts, my dear children, and make this light affliction, which is but for a moment, work out an eternal good.’
To the same:—
‘Ambleside, May 1895.
‘ ... The lakes are more beautiful and lovable than I had imagined. There is a singular charm in the hills round Ambleside, they ripple like the sea.
‘You must not “feel” while you are so weak, just lie, as it were, in the sepulchre, and then come out as Browning’s Lazarus.’
To the same:—
‘July 1897.
‘I got home from London late last night, and it troubled me, and you were much in my mind when I went to church; and in the service it seemed to me that it must be your energies were to be used to the full, and yet your married life, to which you have now been called, does in some degree restrain you. Hitherto I have thought you wanted, like an electric eel, to recuperate; you have gone through too much lately. To-day, it seemed to me as if you should still speak, but in writing; you have the power of writing well. I think I speak better than I write; I don’t know how you speak, but you can write. Now see if speaking is not to be your work whether writing is. How I feel I need solitude, and can’t write for want of it; but you have solitude enough to enable you to write. A little later, as I waited for a message, which sometimes comes at[389] the quiet times, the words came: “I became dumb, and opened not my mouth, for it was Thy doing.” I thought it was to be sent on to you, so there it is; not with your mouth, but with your hand, and perhaps to a larger audience. I think the solitude of the cycle will help you too....’
There was one friend and old pupil, a writer for whose philosophical and poetical work in particular Miss Beale had a great admiration, who received many letters from her. A few extracts from these are given. To Miss ——:—
‘December 1886.
‘I don’t think you will get any food in Spinoza. You say, may we not adopt Agnosticism and say of these problems honestly, “I will give it up”? But you cannot. We may try to, but it is not human to be content to be caged in by this little world of time and space. That restless discontent reaching out to wider knowledge, to the infinite, is surely its own witness. If not, Man, the crown of all things on earth, is the only irrational creature upon it. You will not be able to give up philosophy.
‘I quite agree that we are not to be allowed here so to “make up our minds.” That spirit ever open to receive more light, is what our Master spoke of as the childlike spirit.
‘Have you seen a little sixpenny book by Armstrong of Leeds? He is a Unitarian, so I do not agree with the end; but all the early chapters on the Belief in God are very good, and I think you would like it. There are also some very satisfactory sermons by Professor Momerie on the existence of the soul. I read a great deal of philosophy when I get time. Have you read Martineau’s Types of Ethical History? If not, do. Also Green’s Prolegomena to Ethics. Last summer I read Lotze’s Microcosmus, but I should recommend the two others rather.
‘I wish you entered more than I think you do into Browning’s thoughts. He has, it seems to me, so clearly set forth the main basis of Faith, not systematically, but recurrently.
‘We must work out these matters for ourselves; but rest we cannot. You cannot in the presence of your brother’s suffering—you cannot in the presence of death say: “I care not to lift the veil, or ever to know whether there is a curtain behind which we pass or a dark abyss.”
[390]
‘Indeed, dear child, I do feel for you. When you are freer, you must come and see me, and we will talk over things. I shall not think you wicked, but believe that you do want to know God, and that He is sorry for you, because you do care, but cannot see.... It is only the contemptuous, what I may call the omniscient Agnostic, that I do not want to have anything to do with; those who sneer at the most pathetic aspirations and hopes. The reverent and yet sorrowful doubt which yet longs for dawn, shall one day be blest by the sunrise, here or hereafter.’
To the same:—
‘January 5, 1887.
‘My dear Child,—No; I don’t mind your saying anything that is in your heart.
‘As regards knowledge. We use this word, it seems, in different senses. It is not at all identical with “to form a conception of”: e.g. I cannot form a conception of what gravitation or electricity is, but I know each in a sense. These are names for something without which the kosmos as it is could not be. Or I might perhaps illustrate better by saying I can form no conception of the Universe, no complete conception, and yet from my isolated spot I look up and say, it is. Of what can we form a complete conception? Not of the “flower in the crannied wall.”
‘Any other explanation of the facts of the Universe seems to me incredible, except one, viz., that it is the utterance of supreme Wisdom and Love, and that it is adapted to the intelligence of finite beings. The Unity of law tells us there is one God, the Creator and Ruler. As regards the hypothesis of order coming out of chance atoms—the myth of a prim?val chaos—can any one entertain it? Ex nihil nihil; the order we see in evolution must have existed with the original atoms, if such were the basis of created life.
‘No, I do not think it your fault, but the fault of Spinoza’s system that it cannot give you satisfaction. It is a revival, only in another form, too, of the old Greek thought of Zeus, over whom there was another God, Fate. So Spinoza’s and the Greek Supreme were not Supreme.
‘Of course I can do nothing in a letter but suggest lines of thought and lines of reading. After Armstrong, I should most like you to take either Green’s Prolegomena or Martineau’s Types, and read both several times. Green will help you to see the unity underlying all possibility of knowledge.
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‘It is perhaps more than anything the harmony of the Threefold Unity which helps me to realise the conception of the divine which Jesus uttered most clearly.
‘One sees the absolute physical unity, each atom forming part of the complete whole, and standing in vital relation to the whole.
‘One sees all knowledge as real, only when it takes its place as in (can I say part of?) the Universal thought. One can see things only when one sees all in God. But one sees that this which we have separated off as physical nature, is yet the means and the condition of the intellectual too; for Light, which is necessary to vital processes, is the means by which the Universal thought is revealed to our intelligence, by which God touches, as it were, from without and awakens, and causes truly to live, our intellectual being.
‘Thirdly, each—the physical, the intellectual—are felt by us to be the means to the highest of all, the perfection of the moral nature. Without this, goodness, power, and intellect would be worthless or horrible; and as the material can only be translated into the conception by the intellectual, so we feel that the moral alone can interpret the intellectual.
‘That the full solution is not ours must seem natural to us, who know ourselves to be shut in by space and time. But I am sure that men will not long remain blind to other facts, as they have been to some extent in this generation, owing to the scientific sudden growth of our day.
‘The facts of conscience are to me quite inexplicable on any other hypothesis than that of One who is supremely good speaking to His children, not through “eye or ear,” but directly. There is the unity of consciousness which makes memory possible, and moral judgment possible; and yet there is a secondary consciousness, the “categorical imperative,” the ideal goodness, ever revealing to man a higher and better. What if the conscience has never—I should say Except in One—received the perfect vision of goodness? This is only to say that the receiver is limited and imperfect, not that the perfect spiritual sun is not, or rather I should say the universal light, for the sun is a localisation of that which is invisible; is saturating through infinite space. Words ever fail.
‘I know that endless questions are still unanswered, but this seems to me to be a real knowledge, which is consistent and which gives peace, that all other theories are inconsistent, and that the highest, the moral being is starved upon them.’
[392]
To the same:—
‘January 27, 1892.
‘ ... The Bishop of Gloucester was here to-day, and began talking about your Goethe, which he praised; he is a good judge. I thought you would like to know. Would you send him the book, and say I have asked you; he will tell people about it. He reads philosophy too, and specially advises Lotze.’
To the same:—
‘Written from Sudeley Castle, (probably) December 1893.
‘I fetched your Magazine from the Post Office about five o’clock, and I have just read it through. I must express to you how delighted I am with it. It is so clear, so well written, it gets to the centre of things. I have seen nothing you have done at all to compare with it. I must get the number. I think I shall take in the Magazine, it looks good throughout. A friend takes the philosophical review and lends it to me. I might take this and lend it to her. I have a paper in hand against an article in that, but I fear I shall not be able to polish it off. You must have had days, weeks, of quiet thought to write this. This makes me want you still more to go to Oxford, and get to know Caird. Did I tell you I lunched with Jowett tête-à-tête not long before his death?
‘You must come and see me if I can’t come to you....’
‘PS.—If you lend it to other friends, ascertain about the postage.’
To the same:—
‘November 1895.
‘ ... I am sending you a little book on Psychology by a young teacher and writer. I wish she had shown me the MS. or the proof. If you feel inclined to look at it, and give her a few written criticisms I should be glad. We want so much common language in all these subjects, words are used so differently; e.g. “conception” is not generally used as she does. Intuition is another which we must fix the meaning of, for each book one reads. Real, reason, etc., want defining. A dictionary of philosophical terms should be made by some people authorised to establish an Eirenicon.’
[393]
To the same:—
‘? 1896.
‘No; I am sure you ought not to give anything. I am sorry even that the notice was sent you. Perhaps, however, you may know some one or ones who may have money that they want to put out in some way for the Master’s service, and might think this a right way. We shall not get on if the Guild has to produce funds unasked. I don’t want any one to be asked, but they might be shown a paper.’
To the same:—
‘January 1897.
‘ ... I find I read Not made in Germany without knowing it was yours. It is prettily written, but I don’t consider such things worthy of you, and the variations on that one tune are so very numerous. I wish we, like the Greeks, had things written which turned on other problems. These things are very well as a diversion. I wonder what is the subject of the novel.
‘One of our teachers has been translating a book of Herbart’s. I have sent for his introduction to philosophy. I will tell you if I think it would do for what I want; something giving the fundamental questions which come before beginners. Herbart is much read now, but he is difficult to translate, and the people who have tried have not been very successful; I wonder if you have read any of him.
‘I send a letter of introduction to Miss Swanwick, I suppose you know her translations and writings. I think she is only second to Mrs. Browning, and she is charming, and young still. When I last saw her, the friend of so many distinguished people, her memory was wonderful. Tennyson had one of her books open upon his table during the last days.’
To the same:—
‘(Date uncertain.)
‘ ... Herbart is a power. I have not got the book yet. You really must not let yourself be diverted altogether from philosophy. You have not thought and suffered so much for nothing, and though your philosophy will come out in most things, even in stories, you must give it us sometimes “neat.” You remind me of Darwin’s earth-worms; you have had to burrow and work underground, and you have turned up some fruitful soil. Well, the Spirit which led you into the wilderness will bring you out of it, and anoint you to tell some good tidings.’
[394]
To the same:—
‘July 4, 1898.
‘ ... I am glad to hear you have come to a satisfactory agreement with Blackwood. It is an advantage to have a leading publisher. Now as regards the sonnet. I don’t feel as if anything could make the Eros of later Greek religion pure. He and Aphrodite have fallen from heaven, and I cannot think of them at the same time with the Sufferer on Calvary—so it rather jars on my feelings.
‘I know there is behind the myth the thought of love, of one who is the offspring of truth and purity, of perfect beauty. But love, associated with Eros as we know him, is not love....
‘I am feeling wonderfully well; the body responds to the spirit, and is refreshed too by the sympathy of my dear children.’
Miss Beale’s correspondence with her ‘children’ frequently concerned spiritual and mental difficulties of various kinds. One or two of the letters she wrote on such questions follow.
To one in religious doubt:—
‘(Undated.)
‘ ... How I wish some one abler and better than I could help you now, but as God has given you to me, and something of a mother’s heart with my children, I must try.
‘First: I would resolve to take some fixed time each day, say ten minutes on first rising, just to plume one’s feathers for some short flights above the earth.
‘Secondly: I would think of some of the blessings and thank God for them.
‘Thirdly: Then I would plead for light; “Show me Thy glory; but I would ask in humility, being content to wait till the third or even the fourth watch.” I would ask, “Show me the Father and it sufficeth; let me know Thy love, if I cannot bear Thy glory.” And I would utter the prayer not only in aspiration in spoken words, or only in feeling (which is the music of prayer), but I would utter it in act, by reading in a childlike spirit some Scripture—climbing as it were the Delectable Mountains with the shepherds, and trying to make out something through their glasses. Ask that same Spirit, which has taught the spirit of man, and which I believe taught you[395] specially,—not for your own, but for the Church’s sake, to show to you spiritual truths.
‘Fourthly: Then I would see if there was some selfishness, some “Evil Eye” preventing my seeing, and ask deliverance from any besetting sin.
‘Fifthly: I would ask God to let me offer some sacrifice, permit me to join with Him, to hold communion with Him in blessing another, and try to look for some to whom I might give some cup of refreshment, some way of entering into His joy, and of crucifying self.
‘Sixthly: I would place myself under such influences as have lifted the souls of others. I would join in common worship as much as possible in ou............