In Elizabeth Alston Dorothea had a friend of her own age—a friend who survives to tell of the many happy hours the young girls spent together, of the books they read and discussed, their philanthropic works, and dreams of good. Dorothea, always fond of teaching, gladly instructed her friends. Miss Alston learned from her to read St. Mark in Greek, and in return taught her to sing. ‘We would linger long at the piano, as I sought to make her convey by her singing the depth of meaning in the words, “But the Lord is mindful of his own.” She told me it was a revelation to her.’

As late as 1902 Miss Beale wrote to that friend of her youth: ‘I think with gratitude of those lessons you gave me in singing; this, I believe, has helped much to make me able to teach without fatigue. “In questa tomba oscura” was fine for a chest voice. I suppose you are as much interested in music as ever.’ And in 1903, with an allusion to those designs on all knowledge which the friends had shared, she wrote: ‘Sanscrit is very fascinating; my Sanscrit studies were cut short by my coming here.’

The vacations of this period were spent sometimes at watering-places like Brighton, or Blackheath, where she would be in charge of the younger members of the family. To this day is remembered her conscientious way of taking them for a walk with her watch in her hand. Sometimes she went to Germany or Switzerland, where she took every opportunity of studying schools and methods of education. She was most happy in her work. The actual teaching, apart from the subject, was in itself a delight. That power of inspiration which she held should be one of the gifts a teacher should earnestly covet, was already hers. This was felt not only by the elder pupils, whose minds under her guidance opened to the interests of Latin and mathematics. The children in the school knew it also. An unexpected tribute from one of these once reached Miss Beale, when the parent of a pupil wrote: ‘I have just learned from my little girl that the Lady Principal of the Cheltenham Ladies’ College was my dear and valued teacher of olden days, at Queen’s College.... I assure you I have never ceased to cherish a warm affection for you, and I have never forgotten your great kindness to me in Harley Street.’ In 1905, at the time of the College jubilee, one who had been a child pupil of Miss Beale’s wrote to her: ‘The few months during which I was under your tuition more than fifty years ago were an epoch to me. Young as I was, I ever afterwards judged teaching by the standard set by yours, and very seldom indeed, I may truly say, has it been subsequently reached. The fifty years that have since passed, full as they have been, have never effaced the impression then received, both of your teaching and of something more comprehensive than teaching, which contact with you engendered, and which impels me to take this opportunity—late in the day as it is—to express and to thank you for.... I had a most keen desire to visit Cheltenham and the buildings and institutions which embody in so grand a manner the impress which my childish mind received.’

There is also ample evidence that the professors and lady-visitors of the College highly esteemed Miss Beale’s work there. ‘The flattering regard in which you are held at Queen’s,’ wrote her father to her just after she had left the College, are words fully justified by other letters which exist.

It is clear that this spring of work was full of hope and delight, as well as of scrupulous effort. Dorothea Beale possessed at this time a growing confidence in her own powers, educational ideals which were slowly shaping themselves, and a consciousness of her fitness for the work on which she was engaged.

Then, at the end of 1856, the connection with Queen’s College came rather abruptly to an end by Miss Beale’s own wish. She appears to have been some time feeling that there was a tendency for the whole administration of the College to get too much into the hands of one person; and that there was consequently not enough scope for that womanly influence which she felt to be so important where the education of young girls is concerned. She returned to her work after the summer holiday of 1856—a holiday spent in visiting Swiss and German schools—to find the power of the lady-visitors more restricted than ever. In fact, she said, ‘the time had come when it could be truly said, “the lady-visitors have no power.”’ As she was not in a position to effect the changes she desired, she sent in her resignation, and her friend and fellow-teacher, Miss Rowley, did the same. The actual moment for doing this in November seems to have been decided for Miss Beale by hearing she could obtain the post of head-teacher at Casterton.

Miss Beale’s connection with Queen’s College had been long and close, and her gratitude to it was so great that she hoped to be allowed to resign without explanation. This was during the headship of Dr. Plumptre. When Miss Beale’s resignation reached him, he urged her to make the reasons for it known, and his letter on the subject shows something of the consideration in which she was held.

‘If there is an evil which cannot be remedied, are you right in leaving those to whom the welfare of the College is very dear to all the discomfort of feeling or imagining that there is something amiss without giving them any clue to that which, whatever it be, has been at all important enough to lead you to resign? Are you right in exposing the College itself to the consequence of the construction which will inevitably be put upon your conduct—whether that construction be true or false? I may form three or four conjectures as to the motives that have led you to this decision—but it is all guess work—I think the decision itself to be deplored. We shall lose an able and earnest fellow-worker. You will lose a position of great usefulness—you give up a work to which you have been called and opportunities of doing good. I believe that these lamentable results might have been avoided, but it is too late for this; there is at any rate time for the openness which, I think, we have a right to look for.

‘I will not end without thanking you for your consideration in calling to tell me what you had done, and for all the assistance you have given me in my College work.—I am, yours most sincerely,

E. H. Plumptre.’